I had a 3 week follow up with Dr. R on Wednesday April 15th (the day after Travis' birthday). This time, I had to attend alone due to the covid restrictions (this thing is really getting on my nerves). I recorded the appointment so I wouldn't miss anything and could go over it with Trav afterwards. After the internal exam, the Dr told me the tumour did look slightly bigger. She then explained she had taken my case to the tumour board (since I'm a unicorn and all) and the recommendation was that I consider doing chemotherapy prior to the baby being born. She wanted me to start the following Tuesday (yes - 6 days away) on carboplatin and paclitaxel. This way I could do 2 cycles of chemo (one cycle = 1 day of 6-8 hours sitting in a room full of others getting chemo with an IV COMPLETELY ON MY OWN because of covid and then meds for the rest of that week, 'rest' two weeks, start again) before the baby, delivery the baby via c-section at 38 weeks, 'recover' for 2 weeks, start another cycle of chemo and then 2-3 weeks after that cycle was complete, go in for surgery for the RH.
I was initially semi-OK with this as she told me it's more risky for baby to be born premature than to do chemo while pregnant. There were no long term effects on the baby with chemo. What about short term though? Well, both myself and the baby would be immunosuppressed - which in the time of covid... NOT SO IDEAL. Especially coming in and out of a hospital all the time.
What was said next, really got me. My demeanor changed. I started crying. I could no longer focus on what was happening.
"Now, one of the side effects of the chemo is you will lose your hair"
WHAT. But from what I've read on the support groups I've joined it's most common to use Cisplatin for cervical cancer and you don't lose your hair on that. Well, that one isn't safe during pregnancy because it effects the baby's kidneys. The nurse had to get me kleenex. I broke at this point and you can hear it in the recording - I tear up when I listen to it still. This sounds so vain, superficial and selfish, doesn't it? Colleen, do you even know how many people lose their hair to chemo and you're acting like it's the end of the world!
The thing is, my hair is the biggest part of my identity. If you're reading this, you *likely* know me, or have seen the picture of me in previous posts. I'm a redhead. When I was younger, I HATED my hair. I got made fun of constantly in elementary school and even through high school because I was different than everyone else. Seriously, why were there no other redheads? (Another unicorn reference here, right?) My hair makes me who I am. I had so many self image issues growing up because of being made fun of, but finally, once I realized that I truly didn't care what anything thought about my hair and embraced it, I knew how lucky I was to have red hair and that it was long, thick and healthy. People would even start to admit to me how jealous they were of my natural hair colour. I also cried when I discovered my first couple of greys not that long ago (totally thanks to Tyler!!)
The doctor went over a whole slew of things she was handing me (including a doctor's note for me to get a wig which was super weird - I've worn wigs before, for DANCE RECITALS not because I was bald this was too much) info about the chemo drugs and then let me know the nurse would go over the drugs I had to go get from the pharmacy before and after chemo. She also wanted me to get a flu shot right then (because of all the covid testing happening they were discovering how many people still have influenza right now, yes in mid April!). There was so much. A steroid pill that I had to take 5 of at 10pm the night before chemo, another 5 pills at 6am the morning of chemo, an anti nausea pill 30 minutes before chemo, another one of those 12 hours after the first, and then repeat the steroid and anti nausea pill 1 each, twice a day for 4 days after chemo. My hair would be gone by the time the second cycle began - so in roughly 3 1/2 weeks from then. There was a list of wig salons for me to reach out to - wait, are they even open right now?! Oh - I don't know, they might not be. GREAT. I was given about 3 inches thick of paper information including my prescriptions and sent on my way to the pharmacy.
Poor Travis is waiting in the parking garage this whole time because he can't go anywhere (there isn't even anywhere you can go use a bathroom when you're waiting for someone in the hospital - think about that!!). So I let him know I have to get prescriptions and a flu shot and I'd still be a bit. I sat in the pharmacy for an hour waiting for all this and lost count of how many times I started crying while trying to not let anyone see me. There were people coming in, young and old, that had no hair, head wraps - and weren't as sad and upset as me. I felt guilty being so upset. I finally got my bag of drugs and headed outside to be picked up.
I broke down the second I got in the car. Completely broke. Stuttered out the words "I have to do chemo" and "I'm going to lose all my hair". This was all just too much for one person to handle. How am I supposed to deal with being pregnant, being laid off from work, having cancer, and going through a worldwide pandemic where you can't see friends or family or hug them?! IT'S NOT FAIR.
Something else that I really struggled with after this news was that everything that had been dumped on me, I was still trying to process this was my last pregnancy. With Ty, I took the weekly photos, did the maternity photos, did the newborn photos. We have all of those memories documented. I haven't taken a single bump photo because this pregnancy has been bump (no pun intended) after bump in the road. I can't do maternity photos because photographers aren't allowed to work and I guarantee we won't be able to do newborn photos either. The worst part... any photos we get when the baby is born... I'm going to be bald. That's not how I wanted to remember any of this. Again, I know this is such a small part on such a big scale and others are going through so much more than me, but this one was tough.