Delayed reaction

A few weeks ago it dawned on me that I hadn’t blogged about my first Paclitaxel treatment. Since then I’d been meaning to write about it (honest I had!) but then something really major happened. My beloved city of Christchurch was devastated by a M6.3 earthquake. As anyone in New Zealand knows, we have suffered massive loss of buildings, infrastructure damage and much, much worse, people have been taken from us. Now it seems to blog about anything other than the earthquake would be trivial, even insensitive. I mean, I’m still battling my own bullshit, but so many people are having to deal with much worse circumstances than me. I will go ahead with my intended post though, because perhaps it will be useful to someone, and because it does help to think about something else for a moment.

On January 12th I switched from AC chemotherapy (given every three weeks) to Paclitaxel. I was slightly pissed off about having to switch from a three-weekly regimen to a weekly regimen. Chemo is enough of a drag without having to go in to the hospital to get it every week. It is administered slightly differently than the AC treatment. With AC treatment, the ‘A’ (Adriamycin, also called doxorubicin) is pushed through with a syringe, and the ‘C’ (cyclophosphamide) is given through a drip. Paclitaxel on the other hand is administered through a line hooked up to a machine that pumps it through.

Regrowth and radiation

I am sporting a great new ‘do. I would say it’s about a number 1, pushing a number 2 perhaps. I started noticing some regrowth about a week after my first paclitaxel treatment. I thought I might have been imagining it. I was checking myself out in the mirror every chance I got, straining my eyes to try and find evidence of tiny new hairs on my almost bald head. It was kind of hard to see because I hadn’t lost all of my hair. I still had some straggly bits that I was holding on to like some kind of victory prize. I kept making people take a look at it and see if they could see any new hairs poking through or not. I don’t think they could. But it felt different. And then this dark line started forming at the front. But maybe that was  just where my wig or headscarf had been rubbing during the day. Then it started coming back downstairs and since all of that was gone I could definitely confirm, without a doubt that my hair was growing back. Wohoo! I was so stoked! And I didn’t care that the regrowth on my head was starting with a frullet at the front. A week or so later my head looked like a giant peach with a lovely fuzz all over. Now, 3 or so weeks later, it’s grown to a point where I can feel confident enough to go about town sans headwear. And, lucky reader, I am even feeling bold enough to post a picture ON THE INTERWEB for you. So here you go: