Hair - what hair?

Well, it's finally happened.  My hair is now a distant memory and I've taken to wearing a wig.  At this point, I'm not sure what to do with my eye brows though.  Unfortunately, the left one is disappearing way faster than the right and I suspect I have one ear just slightly higher than the other.  Perhaps this is just to take the focus off being completely bald - just for the record, it's not working.  I'm now walking around with my head slightly tilted.

On the bright side though - there's always a silver lining.  It feels fantastic having a shower and feeling the warm water running over your head.  It feels all tingly and relaxing and I'm loathe to get out of the shower.  The other good thing is my underarm hair is all but gone but my leg hair is hanging on for all its worth - it is putting up a mighty fight so I have to admire them for that.  I need to remember to take a leaf out of their book and keep on fighting. 

In my quest for inner peace and health I have finally gone along to my first yoga class - one of the many things I've been 'gunnado' for years and something I promised I would pursue once I moved to Bundaberg.  I really enjoyed it, although it was difficult for me to do some of the exercises because of my two dodgy arms but the relaxation and meditation sections were fantastic and I am now sorry I didn't learn to do this years ago.  I could have saved a fortune by not watching shopping TV throughout the night!

At first it was hard for me to focus on relaxing and my mind kept skipping to other crucial things like, what am I going to have for lunch?  has my turban twisted around?  does my bum look big in these trackie dacks ..... etc etc.  But, the final relaxation/meditation session just fell into place and I was sorry when we had to come back to life.  I wanted to yell, "NO, LEAVE ME HERE TO SLEEP - DON'T YOU KNOW I HAVEN'T SLEPT SOUNDLY IN YEARS!"

Unfortunately, when I tried the technique on my own at home to try to get to sleep I had no luck.  I suspect I need the background music, soothing voice and tinkling Tibetan bells.  Needless to say, I'll be back there next week if all goes to plan.  Even if it just to have a good 30 minute power nap.

A friend of mine from New Zealand sent me a message which is "Kia Kaha" which means 'stay strong'.  I love the way it sounds and am trying to live the message as well (just like my leg hairs).

Vintage Cars - definitely worth recycling!

Windscreen Wipers – why bother?

Who’d have thought that there are whole clubs dedicated to old cars?  Heaven help you though if you call it an old car ... from now on I shall refer to them as hot rods or classic cars.

As far as I can tell, the one thing they all have in common seems to be their windscreen wipers – or lack thereof.  They either don’t have them, have only one, or they just don’t work at all.

Here I was thinking that the owners didn’t take their cars out in the rain so as not to spoil the duco. Now I know the real reason.  Bloody windscreen wipers don’t work!

I had my first ride in a hot rod just recently so I was quite excited.  I watched a couple of old Happy Days episodes for a refresher course on being ‘cool’.    I’m not sure I could tell you what type of car it was but it was beautifully painted in orange and had luxurious cream leather upholstery.    

Everything was going well until it started to rain so, to overcome the lack of adequate windscreen wipers, the driver sped up.  I am guessing the theory behind this mad stunt was that speed would deflect the water off the windscreen.  Yeah, right!  That might have worked with a modern-day, sloping, aerodynamically designed windscreen but not your straight up and down vertical model. 

Owners of these cars are able to replace entire motors but can’t get the windscreen wipers to work!  Do they not think that’s an important safety feature?  I notice that they put in seat-belts and I’m sure they didn’t come standard in the original versions. 

The windscreen wiper was invented circa 1903 and, just for the record, was invented by a woman, Mary Anderson.   I’m sure the idea came to her when she was travelling with a male partner who, way back then, also thought it was a good idea to speed up to deflect the water.  As the saying goes, “necessity is the mother of invention”.

On the other hand, maybe she invented it one rainy evening  stuck at home, bored to tears baking scones, making cups of tea for her husband and playing parlour games.  She possibly thought, “if only we could go for a drive on this rainy night and I could pay somebody to make me tea and scones and I don’t have to keep pretending to enjoy  playing bridge and charades”.  Next thing you know, cars are fitted with windscreen wipers.   As they say, the rest is history.  We now have coffee shops on every corner, Devonshire teas served in the country and all of this because of Mary Anderson.  I really don’t think she gets as much credit as she deserves. 

Anyway, back to my story.  On arrival at our destination on that fateful rainy night it was all I could do not to fall to my knees and kiss the ground in true Papal style.   If I had my own door, I probably would have but, being a two-door meant I had to wait for the people in front to get out and then I had to manoeuvre my sizeable butt out of the back seat making sure not to trip over the running-board.  This probably looked ‘uncool’ enough without falling to my knees and kissing the bitumen.  Also, never once did I see any of Richie Cunningham’s girls do that.  Mind you, they didn’t go out in the rain either.

It’s a shame that the beautiful cream leather upholstery now has my fingerprints permanently embedded into the back doors. 

Asked would I go again – hell yes!  I will, however, be sure to check the weather forecast.

When does Second-Hand become "Vintage"

Maybe I'm the only person who doesn't quite get "Vintage".  Is it just second-hand stuff and, if so, why not just rummage through the local op shops instead of paying top-dollar for old stuff?  At least if you go to the op shops you are helping out the needy in our society so not only are you getting something new (or old) you can easily justify the expenditure because it's actually donating to charity.  In fact, I wonder if you buy your stuff at op shops you can claim it on your tax?

I was looking in a "Vintage" shop today and yes, it did bring back some memories of clothes my sisters and I were wearing in the 60s and 70s and I'm telling you, they didn't look that great back then and, in my eyes, they still don't look that great now.  Maybe your "Vintage Dior" or "Vintage Versace" may be worth the big bucks because I think they stand the test of time.  They genuinely are works of art with hours of labour going into creating the lace and beading but I think they are really pushing the "Vintage" tag to the extreme on a lime green cotton shift dress with machine-embroidered flowers or a multi-coloured crocheted poncho!

In the famous words of Darryl Kerrigan in "The Castle" - 'Tell 'em they're dreamin'.

It's not that I don't appreciate retro and vintage things.  There are many things that you have to love and admire from this era.  For example, old cars look fantastic and bring back memories of a less complicated lifestyle.  It conjurs up colourful images of Elvis and rock & roll, the drive-in movies, malted milks and sock-hops, pony-tails and cheer leaders.  Hang on - I have got to stop watching Happy Days!

Don't forget  the VW combi camper - how cool were they?  These were probably the original motor-home and shouldn't be thrown on the trash heap and I would encourage recycling of these. 

With "Vintage" clothes though - who decides when clothes become "Vintage"?  Are thereVintage police out there somewhere going through the big pile saying "Yes", "No", "Are they kidding?, "What the xxxx" , "What were they thinking!"

First Dose of Chemotherapy

Well, I've had my first dose of chemotherapy and am proud to say that I have survived although there were a couple of days there that my family may have thought otherwise.  In fact, I thought otherwise! I staggered from the bathroom to the bedroom, to the recliner chair and then to the lounge before going back to the bathroom to pee.  The peeing was endless.  No doubt that had plenty to do with the gallons of water I'd been told to drink. I was in the bathroom about every 90 minutes for the first few nights so sleep was very elusive.

It hasn't been quite a week and I am thinking one down and three to go.  I guess that is a positive and I haven't decided to quit after the first dose.

It doesn't matter what symptom I get at the moment, I blame it on the chemo (like blame it on the boogie).  The first few nights I was having weird nightmares where I woke up in a lather of sweat and screaming.  I haven't had nightmares like that since I watched  Silence of the Lambs.  I get weird aches and pains all over the place - in my joints and sometimes just a quick stabbing pain in my shin and then my shoulder.  I just hope this means it is doing its stuff like a little pac-man chomping its way through any stray escaped cancer cells it comes across.

The amount of support and information that is available for breast cancer patients is nothing short of amazing so, in many cases I think I may have been able to counteract some of the symptoms such as mouth ulcers and dry skin.  In fact my skin hasn't been this moist and supple in years because I'm encouraged to look after my skin and moisturise regularly because of both the surgery and the chemotherapy.  My hands and arms are now beautiful and soft and my nails are glowing from putting about 50 coats of nail strengthener on to combat possible breaking nails.

For years I've had this crease between my eyebrows (some people may call it a wrinkle but not me) which I thought was a permanent fixture but it appears that not working and looking after my skin with beautiful quality products (complements of Look Good Feel Better) has reduced this dramatically.  I can now see that there is a direct link between how well I sleep and the depth of the crease (or wrinkle if that's the road you're taking ).  Every morning I jump up out of bed, or at least drag my butt up slowly to check on the sleep-o-meter crease and it does me the world of good when I have trouble locating it.  I'm now a girl on a mission to get rid of it for good.  If it can disappear for hours at a time then it can piss off permanently.

The fact that I'm not working also gives me ample time to pamper my skin so I'm cleansing, toning, gelling, moisturising, eye-creaming, neck creaming daily and masking regularly.  Hopefully, if I have glowing pampered skin I won't feel so bad about things if and when my hair falls out.  On this matter though I have been trying on hats, scarves, turbans and wigs so I hope to be prepared and not have a melt-down.

Tomorrow I'm back to the hospital to get the dressing changed on my PICC line (for the uninitiated, this is best described as a direct link to drugs) and if I'm up to it, a visit to the wig shop just to see if there is anything there that takes my fancy.  Perhaps a blond bob like Julia Roberts wore in Pretty Woman .....

From Boogie-Boarding to Breast Cancer

I left Melbourne on Anzac day to move back to Bundaberg to be with my family after my husband died.  At the time, I didn’t think too much about the Anzac connection but now I can’t help feeling it was a sign.   It meant I had the fight of my life on my hands.

Mostly it was frightening packing up my life with Alan, selling the house and saying goodbye to family and friends but always in the back of my mind there was this element of excitement that kept me going.  I was getting the opportunity to start afresh.  I was moving to a warmer climate to find a new job and buy a new house and begin again close to my family.

I’d barely started on my new journey before I discovered a lump in my breast and from then on I have been living in a nightmare just waiting to wake up.  

One day I was boogie-boarding in the surf feeling fantastic and two days later I’m getting mammograms, ultrasounds, needle biopsies and a core biopsy.  I barely knew what these things were.  By far, the worst thing is waiting for results.  I thought I suffered from insomnia before but the nights spent wide awake imagining the worst were the worst nights I’ve ever experienced.  Scared and feeling very alone even though I was surrounded by family.  During this time I tried to tell myself that I had a lump in my breast that could be benign.  I tried not to even think of the word ‘cancer’ because it was way too hard to deal with.

I shall never forget sitting in the surgeon’s office and being told “you have breast cancer”.  It was like being in a tunnel with the words echoing around my head.  The next words I heard were “choice of mastectomy or lumpectomy”.  My head was spinning and I’m surprised I didn’t faint but it is amazing how you can deal with a crisis situation when you have to.

I had no idea what to do or where to go after hearing the diagnosis I’d been dreading.  How I got to meet with the McGrath Foundation Breast Care nurse I can’t even recall but it was the best thing I could have done.  My mum, who had been by my side throughout the ordeal, came with me to meet Margie Mears who put the world back into perspective for me.  For this I am very grateful.

Within days of my diagnosis I was admitted to hospital for a lumpectomy.  Having only been to hospital once before as a kid to have my appendix out I was really scared and had no idea what to expect.  Half of me was thinking I should just have left the lump alone and the other half was grateful that I was at least starting on the cure and not waiting for something.   I hate the waiting!

I don’t think it is unreasonable for me to say that I hate pain and I am assuming that I have a very low tolerance to pain.  Nobody knows this for sure though – I am just guessing.   Up until this point, getting a blood test was a major ordeal for me.  If I’d known the pain I was about to endure I think I would have backed out and gone back to boogie boarding.  I thought the mammogram was painful until I experienced the test for the sentinel node biopsy.  If you are feint-hearted or weak-stomached you may want to stop reading now.  This procedure involved injecting blue dye into my breast through the nipple area with the sharpest of needles with absolutely NO pain relief.  I want to add that it wasn’t just one needle but FOUR.  I’m not sure they’d heard such obscenities in the laboratory as they did that day. 

The surgery was somewhat uneventful because of the anaesthetic but again, I find myself back waiting for pathology results.  I hate the waiting!  I was feeling well and confident that everything would be fine and I’d be back boogie-boarding, job and house-hunting within a couple of weeks.  Who was I kidding?  Back to the surgeon’s office to be told he had good and bad news.  The good news being that he had successfully removed two tumours (first I’d heard there were two!) and the bad news being there were signs of cancer in one of the two lymph nodes he had removed. 

At this point I cried – I didn’t know what else to do.  I couldn’t stay strong any longer.  I wanted to yell and scream – it just wasn’t fair.  Why me? What had I done to deserve this? I read of other people who show amazing strength at times like this and I wish I could be like that but I can’t.  I still can’t help thinking of the unfairness of it all.  I’d lost my husband only five months ago from cancer and here I am - having to face the fear all over again but without my partner by my side.  At this stage, if there was a choice to “opt out”, I would have gladly taken it.  Life doesn’t work like that though.

Again, I am amazed by the strength of the human mind to get back up but I do and find myself back in hospital to have my lymph glands removed.  I am certainly getting value for money on my health insurance at the moment.  Mind you, I’d rather not be.

To be honest, up until this point I wasn’t really sure what a lymph node actually did – this was probably a bonus now that I know what I can’t do without them.  I’m sorry I didn’t pay them more attention and show them more respect when I had them.

As I sit in hospital waiting (I hate the waiting!) to have the drain removed and go home I can’t help thinking how long it has been since I have had some ‘me time’ which I am getting in abundance.  I am enjoying re-connecting with my family, reading, sleeping, writing, watching TV, talking to staff and eating well-balanced meals and thinking about my future and what I can achieve.

I am starting to come out of the tunnel and can see and can see a glimmer of light as I come to the end of the first leg of my journey to recovery.

Can you be too old to boogie board?

I hit the surf the other day to test run my new bathers on a boogie board.  Yes, you read it right - boogie boarding!  It's not just for skinny teenagers you know. 

As a skinny teenager (those were the days), I was always in the surf or at least sun-baking on the beach and it feels great to be back in the salt water and walking on the beach sand-blasting the hard skin off the bottom of my feet.  Now that's something I didn't think of when I was a skinny teenager.

Anyway, back to my boogie-boarding exploits.  It was fantastic!  Once I was on the board, riding the wave into the shore with the white water frothing around my ears the years disappeared away and I was 16 again in my sexy little white, crocheted bikini.  BANG!  the years very quickly came back when I hit the shore.  How do you gracefully get up to walk back out to catch another wave!  I'm sure I used to just pop up but I found myself on all fours heaving myself up like a big sack of potatos.

New Bathers/Togs/Swimmers .....

I've done it!  I finally had the guts to go into the bathers shop and ask for help.  Normally, I slink in and try and hide behind the racks of skimpy slivers of lycra and nonchantly look for the larger ladies bathers and slink out again with nothing.  Why do they put the bathers for the fuller-figure ladies way at the back of the shop?  It's like we have to walk the walk of shame.  Why can't they put them midway down the shop to one side so, if you are not a gorgeous 20-something, tanned, size 10, you can slink in inconspicuously.

This horror of buying new bathers is how I ended up in Queensland with a 10 year old tankini with dodgy elastic in one leg.

As my departure to Bundaberg for my 'sea change' is rapidly approaching I thought it was time to get myself a sexy new cossie.  This time, I asked for help - a fairly novel concept for me.  I must complement the assistant in the Seafolly shop at DFO in Essendon - she really new her stuff.  She brought me in about six pair of bathers and all of them fitted, hid some of my problem areas (maybe not all of the muffin top but, hell, she isn't a miracle worker) and looked pretty dam god - even if I say so myself.

I am now the proud owner of two cossies - one tankini and a sexy aqua and white one piece which really highlights my curves.  I am now ready for my sea-change. 

One downfall that I'd forgotten all about when one wears bathers on a regular basis and that is the whole waxing ordeal.  Having grown up in Queensland waxing became a normal part of my beauty routine but I never got used to the excruciating pain.  You would think by the time you get to 50 this wouldn't be necessary - that nature would have stepped in to give us a break from unwanted bloody hair.  Or perhaps nature thought that by the time you got to 50 you woldn't be wearing bathers.  Someone needs to remind 'nature' that 50 is the new 40!

I can't understand why underarm hair, leg hair and bikini line hair never stops growing but, for some reason, over-plucked or waxed eyebrows don't grow back even though I'd welcome full, thick and glamorous eyebrows.  Whatever possessed us to pluck our eyebrows so thin in the 70s?  Has anybody come up with a 'yeah yeah' solution for eyebrow regrowth?