Apparently not mentioning the blue hair did nothing to quell the myriad of questions, such as what's with the blue hair? And what blue hair?
As previously mentioned, the hair loops are itchy as all hell. Plus they require wearing some sort of hat, making my head hot and sweaty. For some reason, hot, sweaty, and itchy are not ideal to me. The obvious solution? Blue wig with itch-preventing wig cap underneath.

But where did the blue wig come from? Before chemo started, I decided that I wanted a blue wig. So Matt and I went to the costume shop and I asked for a short blue wig. The first few didn't work out so well, but this one was perfect.

To answer your final question, yes, I wore the wig to work. Multiple times. In fact, that's where the picture was taken, by the lovely Loretta.

I'm glad we got that all cleared up.

After not receiving a full dose of Taxotere during round one, I received a temporary reprieve from hair loss. Unfortunately, temporary means it happened after all. It started falling out while I was recovering from round two. As soon as I was well enough to leave the house without falling down too often, I went to the wig salon with Matt and my dad for fun with a razor. The following pictures depict the emotional torment I faced that day. Viewer discretion is advised.





Two hours later...

While not a long-term solution, the loops provided me with hair, that when worn under a hat, made me look and feel normal. They also provided me with a very itchy head. At least it was only for the few weeks until my real wig was ready. After all, would I rather have my hair fall out and be bald or have an itchy head?

And now for something a bit more family-friendly: the mysterious Morri flowers.
The enigmatic sender's identity came to light by pure accident. When I searched my email for something completely unrelated, I noticed an email exchange between myself and the sales manager at The Ritz-Carlton. I hadn't even remembered that I told him about chemo a couple weeks ago when explaining why I couldn't sign some papers in person. How thoughtful of him, and now he can be thanked properly. Mystery solved.

The past few months I've received dozens of cards, some flowers, and even a cookbook. I've tried to thank everyone for their kind thoughts and gifts, which really have done wonders to cheer me up. Even the cookbook made me feel loved, though the picture of food made me feel even more nauseated the day it came. Why am I mentioning this now? Well, this Monday a pink watering can with pink flowers arrived at the door. The card claimed the sender to be one Morri, and I have absolutely no idea who Morri is. Neither do my parents. Ergo, this will have do as my thank you. Thank you, mysterious Morri, for the pretty flowers that I have been staring at all week, as my happy narcotics kept me drifting in and out of consciousness.

I will post a picture when I have enough energy. Same for the pictures of my lack of hair, even though the intartubes failed to riot properly.

I probably should have alerted the world to this fact about a week ago, but to perfectly honest, I've been trying not to think about it. Granted things went quite a bit better. Namely, there were no trips to the emergency room, which means that none of the nurses there had a chance to recognize me again. No horrible trips is a benefit of no horrible allergic reactions to Taxotere. Unfortunately, the no allergic reactions is brought to you by loads of preemptive steroids and Benadryl. But they have a pleasant side effect of making me pass out for most of the chemo. And I can't stare at IV bag and panic if I'm asleep.

The week after was remarkably similar to round one, except all instances of Mommy were replaced with Daddy. Oh, and the role of infection was played by thrush! That's right, instead of a bacterial infection, this time I went fungal! Just in case I wasn't having enough problems eating, my tongue swelled and grew three sores, each the size of a New England state. Useless.

The intense pain and nausea were better managed this time, with the help of my new transdermal friends Fentanyl and Sancuso. Despite being more potent than morphine, the Fentanyl was not enough to make my legs stop hurting, so Percocet was called back up from the minors. The combination of the two pushed the limit of safe dosages, so it's a good thing it was enough to brighten my mood, if not fully dull the pain. It was not, however, enough to pry me off the couch, where I spent all "waking" hours for nearly a week.

Since you read through all of that, you have earned the right to learn of the tragedy that has befallen my head. That right, however, doesn't say you find out right now. You have to wait for a certain Matt to send me certain pictures first. He knows what I'm talking about. You hear that Matt? Send me the damn pictures already! Or the intartubes will riot!