Noggin Art and 3 year old Me

My BFF, Erin, was here right after my last treatment.  She left her busy life (she is a mom, a teacher about to start back to school, just moved and a wife - super busy life if you ask me) to come and sit with me while I was coming out of the poo poo days. I have known Erin for 25 years and she still loves me just like I am.  Bald, fat and flat!  And, she may be one of my biggest supporters, other than my mom.  I love her and am so grateful for her visit.

The other thing you should know about Erin is that she is super creative.  When she was pregnant, she painted her belly with body paint and it was so cool.  So we decided to do the same thing with my noggin.

Fun with wigs.

If you have seen me during this whole thing, you know I had some freaky yellow hairs that grew after I lost my hair.  Turns out this happens to most people who get chemo - I call it chemo hair.  I HATED THE CHEMO HAIR.  I think it just made me look sick and so I felt sick.  After this last treatment I was thinking how much I just wanted to shave my damn head and get rid of the chemo hairs.  But the docs didn't want me to shave it for fear of nicks that could get infected.

Shiny cue ball.

Well, while in the shower, I took a look at my intuition shaver and just said eff it and shaved my little noggin.  And friends, it was liberating!  I got out of the shower and I of course had missed large spots, but wow!  Its what I wanted this whole time!  A cue ball soft and smooth noggin!

Smooth as a baby's butt.

This is the first time I felt happiness, deep down pure happiness, in many many many months.

It was a perfect canvas for Erin's noggin art!  This art was done with washable body paint crayons we got from AC Moore.  Did you know that you could get body paint crayons?  Me neither.

Here are some photos of her work.  I loved it and it was pretty fun and relaxing.  I highly recommend this activity to anyone going through this process.  There may or may not be a hidden message.  Can you tell what it says?

Earrings from pal Nelly.

Pretty cool, huh?

Plant "hair".

Do you see the message?

Noggin art went out to dinner.

We took my painted noggin out to dinner and got lots of stares and a few compliments.  It deserved much more attention, but I was still in poo poo days, so we didn't do much more.

Noggin art was awesome.  Erin is awesome.  I felt awesome.

Until this past week.

I am trying to make small shifts towards better health.  Trying to not to be like I am with all or nothing thinking.  So went for walks with friends and even went back to Pilates.  Turns out I'm not as unfit as I thought.  Sure, I can't do what I used to, but I was actually able to walk quite a distance and even do the whole loop at Duke trail AND do an upside down push up (my nemesis) at Pilates.  Not bad for going from 3 months of just about no activity.  At all - like sitting in the recliner all day.

However, I got really really tired in the middle of the week.  I think maybe I overdid my activity.  And then I got really emotional.  I mean like the super duper whopper doody doo sad.

I am sad that I have gained so much weight.  I am sad that my cholesterol has increased so much so that they have doubled my medication.  I am sad that I lost my breasts.  I am sad that I worked so hard to lose so much weight and I have put much of it back on.  I am sad that I worked so hard to be fit and strong and am no longer fit and strong.  I am sad that my entire life has been disrupted.  I am sad that I have to worry about my cancer coming back.  I am sad that I no longer have the option to have my own children.  I am sad that my body as I've known it is no longer.

I feel like a failure.  I feel like I did not at all do my best.

No wonder I was so sad.  Plus I am chemopause so no telling what is going on with my hormones.

I fight tears so hard.  I feel embarrassed if I cry.  I call it exploding.  But damnit, things are sad right now.  Who wouldn't be sad?

I exploded on Mom, I exploded on friends, and I exploded on my acupuncturist.

My acupuncturist asked me what I would tell the 3 year old version of myself if she were telling me these things.  I had no idea.  I think this is kooky.  But when she left me to rest with all my needles in, out came 85 thousand years worth of tears and it came to me what I would tell 3 year old me.

I would tell her that it is sad that your body is no longer the same.  It is a loss and is something to grieve and be sad about.  I would tell her that just making it through treatment should be considered success - no matter how you got through it (in my case it was with the help from my pals cake and pizza).  I even patted the pillow I was laying on to comfort this 3 year old me.  HOLY KOOKY BATMAN.  I guess those voodoo needles brought out the kookiness the therapists always want me to believe in.

I felt such relief after this acupuncture session.  Tears are healing and I wish I wouldn't fight them so much.  Who knew I could be in touch with 3 year old Melinda?  KOOKY DOODLE DOO!