As of right now: I do have some hair. Probably a couple hundred of them. They poke out about an inch in a comical fashion on my shiny scalp. I haven't worn my wig in weeks. I feel quite self-aware while I'm in it, afraid of it slipping out of place. And I've resigned myself to looking like a person who has lost their hair to illness, since that's what I am. So the scarfs that I never thought I'd wear have become my mainstay. About half of my lashes and brows have held on like troopers. My legs are surprisingly hairy, and I can't bring myself to shave them. How weird is it to say I'm too proud of those valiant hairs to shave them off?
My skin has held up fairly well, though it is like wrinkled tissue paper around my neck and eyes.
My nails are also in fairly good shape, though they are thin and short and the pink portion has a rainbow of varied colors. My stomach is sensitive and now considers dairy a poison. I can't get past the craving for all things salty and sour. My hubby tells me I'm scaring him with my fondness for hot dogs. Scares me a little too. Especially that potato chip thing. That just has to stop.
As far as energy, I have to catch my breath when I get to the top of a flight of stairs. I nap every day, sometimes for several hours, and my legs regularly feel like noodles. My favorite part of the day is bedtime, and I hate that about me.
My biggest focus of concern right now is my arm, which is both swollen and achy.
I hope to improve in all the areas in the coming weeks and months, even my arm. And while I'm getting a little on edge about the radiation, I'm feeling like it's time to get back to the act of living. Brandon auditioned for another musical this morning, so I guess life will happen whether I'm ready or not.