1. Many years ago I decided to get a closet organizer installed, to bring some order to my chaotic wardrobe. I planned to pack up the clothes that no longer fit, and donate them to Goodwill. I was sure I’d never lose enough weight to fit into the size 4 suits I once wore.
|
2. The installers came two days after I was diagnosed with cancer. As I was sorting through the clothes I decided to hang onto the size 4 outfits. The main thing I knew about cancer treatment was that you threw up a lot, so I thought maybe some would fit again. Later I found out that 50-70% of breast cancer patients gain weight during treatment—which I think is SO unfair. Goodwill got the size 4's, 6’s, 8’s, 10’s …
|
3. I had rosary beads--from the shrine of Our Lady of Knock, in Ireland, where miraculous healings have occurred—that I wanted to take into surgery with me, but I wasn’t sure where I could put them so they wouldn’t get in the way, so I stuck them in my sock. A few weeks later for the next round of surgery I took them back, along with two small crosses people had given me. But they had new socks, green and smaller, and the nurse told me patients complained they were falling off. I had visions of my religious paraphernalia spilling out all over the operating room, so I explained my dilemma to the nurse who must have thought I was a bit crazy … but I didn’t dare leave them behind. I finally wrapped everything around my ankle before I put the socks on and luckily the socks stayed on, and everything stayed in.
5. Guess who came to Tufts a few months later, and guess who else went through the receiving line and got her picture taken with England’s former Prime Minister. I thought good picture, I’m going to try to use that somehow.
7. My parents came to my first chemo treatment, and I joked that chemo was fine, but the ride home with Dad was harrowing. At age 82, he was a good driver, but casual in his use of directional signals. I was convinced we’d be rearended and I’d have my first bout of nausea in the middle of Memorial Drive while he exchanged insurance information with an irate motorist he’d just cut off in traffic. The following month he was diagnosed with multiple myeloma and leukemia and died10 weeks later.
9. Anthony gave me the final haircut, before my hair fell out. I thought this was one of the shortest cuts I'd ever had, then realized in about two weeks it would be a lot shorter.
|
4. Dean Jack Galvin introduced me at the Fletcher School Commencement ceremony that May by saying I know Margaret Thatcher, Margaret Thatcher is a friend of mine, and Maria Judge is tougher than Margaret Thatcher,” and I thought good line, I’m going to try to use that somehow.
6. Armed with my Walkman, an aromatherapy eye pillow, snacks, and a book to read, I found my first chemo treatment to be a much calmer experience than I expected. A friend said I looked as relaxed as though I were getting a facial instead of being injected with toxic chemicals.
8. A friend from work and director of our Security Studies Program, accompanied me to my second chemo treatment, and we discussed the drugs that I was receiving. Dick, I’ve heard these chemo drugs contain the same toxic substances used in chemical weapons. I hope they don’t ratify the chemical weapons treaties before I finish my treatment. It might limit the supply. Dick told me later he was thinking Gee, I hate to tell they just did ratify the treaties.
10. The wig fitting. I had my choice of color, style and length, and several people suggested this was the time to return to my roots (genealogical, not follicular) and become an Irish redhead. But I opted for something as close to my own hairstyle and color as possible.
|
11. Cindy and I met at a cancer program in early June, and after discovering that we were starting chemo at the same time, we decided to go through treatment together, a couple of “Bosom Buddies”. We both bought our wigs while we still had hair, and after it fell out we went back for a refitting, posing with new hair in hand before turning it over to the stylist for a “tune-up.”
|
12. After a little trimming, our synthetic hair looked as good as the home grown stuff ... well, almost.
16. ... or even the vacuum cleaner. One day in Oncology I found a sheet of helpful hints that someone had compiled about how to deal with hair loss during chemotherapy. One of the suggestions was to vacuum your head to get rid of loose hair - that way there would be less cleanup. The first thing I saw when I got home that day was my very large, very heavy, upright vacuum cleaner, and I could not imagine how I could ever use it to vacuum my head without ripping off my ear in the process. I assume the person making the suggestion had in mind a vacuum cleaner with a hose attachment - or maybe a Dust-Buster - but I’m not sure I would have tried even that.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|