A Prisoner at the halfway mark !!!!

"Salutations Non-incarcerated Humans,

It's nearly two weeks ago  that I had my third of six cycles of chemo. I am officially half way through the chemotherapy. Ordinarily I would be cockahoop about this significant milestone but I have to confess to being rather underwhelmed at this point in time. Even though each of the three week administrative processes seemed to roll around rather quickly, I am still looking at a further nine weeks of treatment at the least and I am tired this time.......very tired.

This third cycle started well enough. Albeit a tad tired, I had had two glorious weeks of negligible inconvenience. I had enjoyed a particularly lovely lunch and exhibition with Clare, and lunch with Colin, had done some great gardening and caught up with good good friends during that time.  Siobhan and I had also undertaken our pre chemo infusion rural escapade down to Gippy but more of that later.

So nearly two Thursdays ago  I got to Peter Mac in time for my 9am appointment and was ushered through to a small room with only one chemo recliner and a bed. That was odd I thought but may be I would have a sleep whilst the line was in situ.  So I was settled into the chair and the nurse did her thing. It was the same nurse from last time and she had had a bit of difficulty in getting a good vein last time. During that second time, she couldn't get a line in at my wrist like the first time so had struggled and found a vein half way up my arm which didn't go that well as I ended up with substantial bruising and restricted movement of my arm as a result.  So this time in preparation, she placed heat packs on my flattened arm in an attempt to get the veins to pop up. Despite prolonged warming none were volunteering to offer up their services to Nurse Vampira. She perservered and banged one in my wrist and shit, it hurt. I was extremely conscious of the needle the entire time it was pumping stuff into my vein......and the bruising afterwards was not nice. Nurse Ratched said I can expect it to be harder next time. Nice!! I think I might ask for the nursing interchange player to manage the line next time!!.

So there I am sitting in my little room with the chemo pumping diligently into me and I am in a mood to neither read nor write. I can feel the cold substance going into my vein and travelling my body- at least I think I can feel it. Naturally, we don't feel our heart beating, nor the blood moving throughout our body, nor electrical charges or neurones travelling to and from the brain.  I imagine we would be a tad distracted if we could. But you know that feeling you get when you get a rumble in your gut on occasion ? You can sense or feel, as well as hear,  the air pockets and the movement of a substance of some kind? Well it's like that - sort of.  I can feel the chemo in the vein as it moves through my body. There is a cold sensation that I can progressively feel throughout my body. But I have grappled with the best adjective or best way to describe it. Because it is travelling through a part of my body, my whole body isn't cold. It's not like you can throw a cardi on and the chill will leave. It's an isolated yet travelling sensation. And cold isn't quite the right word. It's like it is a refrigerated substance of some thickness or density that is cocooned in a casing of some sort. Hence the cold permeates from the inside out not the outside in. It's quite a disconcerting feeling.

In between the three types of chemo being injected I use the toilet that is an ensuite to the room that I am in. I settle back into the chair and get connected up and then three people walk in. I didn't look too closley only catching the face and eye contact of the one woman in the group. Two in dark clothing one in street clothes. I smile and one of the guys takes up residency on the bed. Next thing, this temporarary screen appears and is posted between me and the bed but leaving me the passageway to still access the toilet at the far end of the room.

Guess what? My roomie (cell mate??) was a prisoner with two police escorts having his last cycle of treatment which, ordinarily is done at St V's but for some reason is happening here. The cop uniforms, guns and use of the word Officer by the chemo patient sort of gave the game away. I am amazingly observant aren't I???? Could have been a Detective!! So my next thought was hmmmmm, could I naturally wander past and pretend to take a selfie and perhaps catch him in the background of the shot???  Lets face it folks three and a half hours of chemicals being pushed into my poor collapsing veins isn't that much of a gripping read but a exposé of Victoria's most dangerous criminal sharing my room, toilet and infusing equipment whilst being observed closely by Victoria's boys and girls in blue is a hell of a lot more interesting. Still common sense prevailed as well as respect for a total stranger's privacy so I let it be,  but it made for fertile imaginings during the remainder of my treatment.

Now ordinarily, the chemo doesn't affect me for a few days - Good lord, I can't believe I used the word "ordinarily" - as if having toxic crap pumped into my system is a natural, normal  and recurring event.....it really is amazing how something so extraordinary does become routine so quickly in your life.......... Anyway, for the last two times the effects haven't been felt for two to three days. After treatment ended I drove home and  crashed for three hours - totally zonked out with no explanation. It was the exact same stuff, my chemo regime doesn't change until next time when I go onto taxatere, so I had no reason other than this time was different - and so it proved to be.

The next ten days proved to be pretty hard with the usual suspects of chills so powerful they could loosen your teeth fillings, hot surges and industrial strength nausea all playing their part. But I also had the extremely unpleasant experience of diarrhoea  - violent diarrhoea. I had been spared this the last two times but not this time. Somethings are best left unsaid or not described and this is one such time.

But after nearly 30 minutes on the dunny, with agonising gut pain that seared my innards, with rivulets of sweat originating from my temples and my non existent hairline, and running down my face and stinging my eyes,  together with my nose running in unison in some kind of macabre symphony (in three movements - pun intended) of exiting body fluids, I emerged from the bathroom and felt almost concave with emptiness and helplessness. I collapsed into Siobhan's arms crying and saying I had never felt so sick in all my life.

The diarrhoea struck a few times over the next few days so being at home was the best and safest thing for all concerned!!! And as it should, this and the other horrid side effects of chemo did reside. They started a little earlier this time and hung around a little longer and they were a trifle tougher but they have resided and I am now enjoying my window of relative good health.

On the Sunday prior to this episode of crap occurring, in good health and spirits from Cycle No 2, we had headed to our second rural destination - West Gippsland to visit a local winery or two and eat at a restaurant that Siobhan had read a good review. Down the Eastern, onto the Monash freeways and then off to Warrigal we go. In little over an hour we turn off for our first winery - Cannibal Creek . Popped in for a tasting - they do a great chardonnay and then into town for lunch at the Big Spoon Little Spoon. Must have changed the owners because the menu was dumbed down to basic everyday fare, so we upt and out and headed to Wild Dog Winery instead and boy were we grateful we did!!!

Fabulous!!!!!!!!!!! Totally.

That's a hat on my head not our fourth little white dog!! 

Here is Siobhan enjoying the delights of their wine......a great range with some genuinely lovely gear which we enjoyed with a trememdous meal in a beautiful setting. Peoples, if you are looking for something not far away but seriously special and picturesque - this is the place. Tres lovely.

And I have been meaning to for some time but havent quite got around to showing you the hair that I wear!! I have had to order a gel substance that is contained in a headband to wear underneath because the damn wigs cause tension head aches but since then I have been able to endure it - they are not comfortable no matter what anyone says. But also because I have been accustomed to seeing myself sans hair when I do wear a wig, it feels like I am wearing hair the size of an afro and feel very self conscious.........

This is my "Going Shopping" Hair

This is my "Going Out" Hair

 











And here is Siobhan wearing my Going Shopping Hair and deciding (her not me ) that she looks like a total bogan!!!

Noice!!!!!!

Good Hair Days to you all.


Kelly xx

Look Good Feel Better with Ladies who Lunch

Mwah !! Mwah!!
(Interpretation; air kiss left, air kiss right)

Dear Blogees,

According to the cosmetic industry and Kerrie-Anne Kennerly, who is now my post diagnosis, Poster Gal and Guru for all things breast cancer, it would appear that even when one is subjected to the rigours of chemotherapy and feeling like crap, a true feminine kinda chick still should not leave the house without having plastered a whole lot of goop on her face........ so that instead of resembling a bland beige coloured upright mobile bowling ball, you look like an autumnal or summery (depending on your "colours") shaded upright mobile bowling ball!!!

The oft repeated mantra being.......that if one looks good, then one will feel better.

Now those who know me well know that I am not a joiner per se and rarely buy into "group think". I am highly derisive of this current pop culture rubbish where it seems everyone is on some bloody "journey of one kind or another", that everyone has a backstory of cancer, bankruptcy, or depression, or if they are really earnest, the whole lot - and their raison d'être for undertaking this cooking, singing , redecorating, renovating, weightloss, survival contest is their inspirational long dead and departed grandmother who leaving her war torn homeland in a leaky boat, overcame adversity, immigration challenges and Australian blowflys to bake the best moussaka in culinary history whilst singing opera to homeless folk and single handedly building her own mud brick home in the Australian outback.  For goodness sake !! And what is with the all the crying??? Why is it that we regard the pursuit of prize money somehow more palateable and less grubby if we cloak it in so obviously shallow and manufactured sentiment? Bleuch!!!! I find it sooooo distasteful. 

So anyway, as a cancer patient (cue tears now), I receive an invitation to register for the Look Good Feel Better program. This program offered Australia wide is supported by many of the cosmetic companies . It's patron is Kerri-Anne Kennerly, it is run by a small organisation who effectively tap into hospitals and clinics across the country and in conjunction with the respective hospital's army of volunteers, provide a two hour workshop to female cancer patients  in how to put on make-up, wigs and scarfs and adapt to your new look whilst going through treatment. 

As regulars will be aware, I am no stranger to the transformative abilities of make-up as anyone reading yesterday's blog and seeing how utterly ravishing I can look without it whilst doing a spot of gardening, can attest. Equally, I know my way around good, bad and indifferent wigs thanks to my foray with Craig. (see earlier wig trying blog entry)  And finally, I am so very comfortable with my physical limitations, to know that , no matter what the fabric, colour or braided accessory, one Kelly Minogue, looks like an ageing  Gloria Swanson on a bad day in a bloody turban!!!!! - for those not aware who Gloria is, google her image and you will understand my aversion to turbans!!!

Yet, I was keen to attend and I am not ashamed to admit my ulterior motive for doing so. It was not so that I may bond with my sister sufferers and share experiences of our respective journeys...... nothing so noble nor honourable. No, my oncology nurse mate John had said you are given a terrific show bag of goodies. So there it is. I was going to the workshop for the sole reason of securing some contraband- pure and simple!!!

However, as I have found with this cancer caper, I am often taken in unexpected directions both emotionally and intellectually and this was to be the case with the  Look Good Feel Better workshop. But before I got to hang with this group, together with Siobhan, I had an outdoor luncheon catch up

with my personal shearer, Pauline. As you can see from the pic, whilst I sat on my lemon bitters, the two gals maintained that compulsory maxim for  those ladies who lunch.......a glass (or in their case, a piccolo of fizz to wile away the afternoon - tres wonderful!!!!!!in beautiful Melbourne winter sunshine we tried a new eatery in Clifton Hill together. Lotsa fun as always. 

So the following week, sans make-up but dangly statement earrings in situ for that post makeup reveal, and wearing a black ensemble with an aqua pashmina scarf slung loosely, Muslim style over the bald head and around the neck, (Going Out Hair Wig was in a plastic bag in my handbag at the ready), I ventured into the workshop.  To walk into a group where no one knows anyone I think is always a little bit hard. Despite being a reasonably confident human, the absurdity of the circumstances in which we had come together, left me a little dumbstruck. It wasn't like we were all here to join the new local tennis club now was it?? As one of the volunteers checked my details and gave me a name badge, I was wondering, what's a suitable conversation starter? 

Questions such as "So what chemo regime are you on?, or  How come you still have your hair? " seemed too personal and overly familiar. And my favourite one ...did you know about the whole post double mastectomy reconstruction from a tummy tuck  thing - cant wait?  " might be misinterpreted by someone not understanding my often bleak sense of humour......I was at a bit of a loss. 

Well the coordinator herded us to our seats and introduced us all. We were a disparate group of roughly 20 women of all ages, some as young as their mid to late twenties, most in the middle and a few older ladies. We were seated around a rectangle table each with its own setting with a selection of cosmetics selected in accordance with the "profile" that we had submitted a few weeks prior that detailed our colouring and what we routinely used ourselves. Let me say from the outset peoples that 

it was AMAZING contraband!!!!! Estée Lauder, Chanel, Revlon, and quite a few other brands and it included moisturiser, cleanser, eye cream, concealer, mascara, lipstick, foundation - the whole box and dice.......marvellous. 

The lady who was to lead the class, Leonie, from Chanel, asked me if I would be her model to demonstrate technique  and of course. I was more than happy to comply. So I simply got to sit back and enjoy being pampered - tough gig what??? 

To say that we all had a great time is to seriously undersell the real benefits of this workshop. It was clear to me having the benefit of sitting back and observing the room rather than applying my make-up that the workshop was working its 'magic' on so many levels. Warm exchanges between the ladies were the order of the day, much laughing, empathy, encouragement and genuine kindness was evident throughout the room. 

Some of the ladies who attended had come in full make-up and with wigs or scarfs or hats in place. When asked to remove the make-up and head covering so that a thorough cleansing and application could commence, you could feel the reluctance and self consciousness emanating from some of these lovely ladies. I just wanted to reach out and  give them a hug. Wanting to hug a total stranger is not a common reaction for me so that was  a complete surprise that my first compelling feelings where  empathy and the need to provide reassurance. The  make-up and  head gear is so clearly their amour when presenting to the outside world and their once beautiful hair ravaged by chemo and pale skin devoid of all colour and sporting the pallor of illness made them feel so vulnerable. But they were brave and they too entered into the spirit of the day.  

We spent a while on the make-up application, then, the lovely June from the Peter Mac Volunteers showed us the beanies, hats and turban ideas that were available for us to learn, lend, buy and also a handy tip to watch YouTube for scarf tying creations!!!!! Then came Di from Creative Wigs, who with her signature frankness and pushy-ness (a good attribute in this instance when assisting ladies to go for the most suitable look, and not a poor synthetic facsimile  of what they are used to ), enables the ladies to try on a range of wigs. This was hoot for all with much laughter and merriment and generous and at times, diplomatic commentary. 

If one could bottle the intensity of the smiles on the faces of these lovely ladies as they found a wig to compliment their new make-up look that worked for them, it would be a world changing elixir for happiness and confidence. We enjoyed a sumptious morning tea  provided by the CWA no less and can I tell you the club sandwiches and pretty as a picture little patty cakes were divine. 

This two hour work shop has fundamentally shifted my outlook. I had started out as a most relunctant recruit to this Cancer Club of Sick Chicks, intent on being there solely for the goodies. I left having been privileged to share this time and experience with them. And while you probably wont see me donning any pink shirts and running the Tan, or invading the G anytime soon or riding alongside very good people for 100's of miles, anytime soon, I want to whole heartedly thank the participants and their friends who also came to share, the volunteers of Peter Mac for their wonderful warm caps and hats, Di from Creative, the CWA, the delightful Leonie from Chanel and all the other volunteers and co-ordinator of Look Good Feel Better. And of course to the participating cosmetic companies for their wonderful generosity.

I may only on occassion rise to the "Look Good"component of the mantra but I sure as hell have genuinely internalised the "Feel Better" from this rich and rewarding experience. Thank you to all. 

So looking very spiffy I arrange to have lunch with my friend Clare down from Sydney a few days later. We headed to the Monet exhibition late morning only to find the queue ridiculously long (since when do parents take little (and I mean little) kids to an exhibition by a French Impressionist )- can they have already run out of things to do by the end of the first week of school holidays ??? Seriously, what is wrong with Maccas and a movie!!!! So opted for lunch first then art. At Bistro Guillame we enjoyed a stunning meal and a gorgeous wine from Curly Flat. I had a glass, as I am treating my body like a temple these days. Clare had the rest.

Ppppffft!! You know I am lying right? Even I couldn't type that last line above with a straight face. The no drinking rule has collapsed but my intake is seriously curtailed and none for the first 10 days post chemo. So here is a pic of what Clare had an an entree..... a twice cooked cheese souffle with a rouquefort sauce....yum.......its a great place and we had a lovely time catching up. And even though we couldnt fit in dessert, here is a picture of the dessert Pauline had there when we went...this Ladies Who Lunch caper is simply fab

Afterwards we headed into the exhibition. I love his work with its focus on gardens and colour. It is simply uplifting. The kids running amok I could have done without and I am not ashamed to say that used my imposing baldness and stern look to unsettle the little darlings somewhat. Being bald has its advantages!!!

Clare came back later for dinner to catch up with another friend with whom we had both worked. But I forgot to get his head on camera, so here is one of Clare with one of hers at her side, the lovely Cashew, and one of ours (who is the personification of an endless pit of need and attention- Bombe Alaska). But thanks for coming Ben, it was just lovely to see you.

And just for you BK, and all the other filthy Collingwood supporters, (why am I even friends with this calibre of person I ask myself?) I have posted the sports page that I woke up to on Saturday morning. Was not thrilled......Still I am working on my Stephen Milne insults in anticipation of his return for this Saturday - Rest assured they will be "alleged" insults..........

And finally folks, this was Siobhan and I "enjoying" the five hour blackout in Thornbury on Monday evening. Thank god for iphones, Flashlight Apps and Candy Crush Saga on battery charged ipads is all I can say!!!!!!!!!

Lotsa


Kellyxxxx

  

Landscapes - My Garden, the Political and my Mind

Hello Greenthumbs,

Apologies as it has been a while since I last put pen to paper or, more accurately, finger to keyboard.

I had a rough time of it the first week of the second cycle but since then have been travelling rather well, if chronically tired. However, given the incredibly cold starts to these winter days, I probably garner more jealousy than sympathy, as I stay snuggled up in my toasty warm bed, as you my hard working proletariat, head off into the chilly mornings to earn your princely sums.

On the eighth day post chemo I was feeling well enough to head out into the garden and tackle some weeding and light pruning. We have only a small front yard but given my penchant for cottage gardens and flowering perennials, it is a labour intensive garden that needs regular tending. As with gardens of this type, in winter it looks like a bunch of dead sticks strategically planted around the garden - something of which Morticia Addams would be extremely proud. But I like this time as it allows you to see the bones and structure of the garden and plan accordingly for beautiful blooms come spring.

In the blink of an eye, three hours passed and I had only weeded and pruned but had filled the green bin to the max. A generous sprinkle of Sulphate of Potash and a light watering and I was ready to tackle the Mop Tops with Tony the next day. As you may not be able to tell from the photos below, these lovely trees develop into huge lush rounded heads come spring but they need regular pruning to keep them the size and shape in proportion to the house that I want. My towering height makes this a problem so I call on my dear (and much taller friend) Tony, to help me out.

With the ladder and nifty hedge trimmers in hand Tony makes light work of it as I cleared and bagged the prunings, planted foxgloves, delphiniums, hollyhocks, poppies and granny bonnets in every available space across the garden. Robyn T, your mother's fuschia, lillies, cyclamens and japanese anenomes are all flourishing here in down town Thornbury!!! All done in two hours and I drop Tony off as Siobhan and I have a hot lunch date with a gorgeous doctor. We will need to make a trip up to the hills in the next two weeks  to get two more white hydrangeas and two more rose bushes, but then it will be ready for spring. The only task remaining is for the next day ( a job of about three hours) - a thorough weeding of the nature strip (ours and our next door neighbour's that I have offered to look after for him) - Entirely selfish on my part as it allows me to extend my plantings beyond our legal boundary!!!! 

As you can tell from the pic, I dont give a toss what I look like when gardening!!!!

For those of you that don't enjoy gardening or see it as a chore, you probably wont understand how exhilarated I felt to be out there on those three consecutive days. It was a glorious Melbourne winter's day each day with bright sunshine and clear crisp air. I was doing one of the things that I genuinely love, without difficulty, without pain and with great physical capability. I was truly euphoric.

In the words of Mariel Heslop, 

"Now my life is as good as an ABBA song!" 

So with the garden all sorted and well primed with a sense of achievement, Siobhan and I head to a lovely restaurant in North Carlton called Enoteca Sileno. There, we meet a former colleague, the good Dr Colin, fresh from his regular weekly Italian class, to enjoy a meal, a goss and a vino. 

Now, Dr Colin is many things, - an engaging raconteur, an absolute font of knowledge on topics of the most obscure nature and origin, so as an entertaining dinner companion he is hard to beat, provided you can keep him focused long enough to impart the totality of said story.....but most of all he is just a lovely man who single handedly uptipped my very jaundiced opinions of doctors on its head. 

Upon his arrival he sought to impress all within hearing distance, by his command of his very recently exercised Italian linguistic muscle. Food and beverage (from the wonderful region of Friuli) was ordered and a lively exchange of Italian linguistic gymnastics between the good doctor  and waiter ensued. 

Momentarily distracted by my desire to rid myself of my "going out hair", Colin placed my wig on his own head and without missing a beat the same waiter walked past, complimented Colin on the style but thought the colour was not "very him" .....................you be the judge....... It was a delightful lunch and even more delightful company....

In the days that followed, I watched with great sadness as Julia Gillard  was deposed from the Australian Prime Ministership by a parliamentary ALP spill.  Now if you are going to sigh and think to yourself "get over it girl and move on" its happened, or worse....... "is she going to launch into some angry feminist, gender card playing rave"....first ask yourself, why are you having that reaction to what you anticipate is my anger?

I am angry because with the benefit of two weeks now into the post Kevin Rudd elevation wash-up, where is the commentary about the size of his dick, or whether his wife is a closet lesbian, or that the aspiring opposition leader's budgie smuggler's, (as well as his policies)  are lacking in content and substance?  

Nothing. 

The media is now robustly and meaningfuly focused in policy differences between the parties and the blokes leading them (now that the natural order is restored!!) It was only two weeks ago that they were unable to muster that focus yet the same issues were there then. I am despondent that my country is filled with a population that tolerates this sort of misogyny masquerading as news and current affairs, or worse that we are so loathing or terrified of women that we cannot bear them to be in any genuine or real position of power. 

It would seem that when it comes to women in power, we are more inclined to play the man (or in this case, the woman,) rather than the ball. I am so disappointed that we are so immature. I have no doubt that Gillard's legacy will grow in stature in ensuing months and years. I also have no doubt that it will be years before any ALP woman is allowed to put up her hand again. (and yes, I realise the absolute sexism of that statement)  I for one, will not be voting ALP until Rudd and each and everyone of his current supporter base has left the Federal Parliament.  

A friend once said to me.....they may be bastards, but at least they are our bastards..........

Not anymore they ain't.

It's an interesting political day indeed when Senator Stephen Conroy becomes the ALP's moral beacon for loyalty and principle.

Vote early  & Vote often Peoples

Kelly xxx

Take 2 - Second Chemo Cycle

Dear Non-Toxic (but freezing) Noggins,

I would just like to throw it out there into the universe that I am a tad pissed off people!

It seems to me to be extremely unfair or unreasonable that not only does one have to lose their hair completely, but one has to do so at the beginning of the coldest week EVER in Melbourne in years!!!!!!!

You will have to trust me on this one folks, but I can honestly say that sans hair I believe you are about 5 degrees colder than someone blessed with their natural hirsuteness.

Last week I attended my second chemo on the Thursday and it went well. Siobhan had shaved off the prickles left from my hair clippering and I was all bald and shiny headed.

I had attended the Medical Oncologist's the day before, and all was well with the progress. The chemo was over and done in a few hours and I headed home to a reasonably comfortable night. By Sunday however, the treatment had taken hold. Sunday was a long long day of intermittent sleep rudely interrupted with violent chills running through my body followed by soaring temperatures and hot sweats. It was incredibly exhausting.

It is very difficult to describe how awful it is. And in the comfort of post treatment hind sight you look back at your own inability to not push through and you think to yourself , "geez, get a grip", But as someone who is pretty tough, the one thing I can say I have learnt from having chemo is, that I will be far more empathetic to other people's experiences than I have ever been before.  The loss of your own well being for a known and prescribed period of time, where you just have to ride it out, is simply awful. The nights, I found, are the worst.  Everyone is different and apparently experiences different symptoms, duration and severity so one can't generalise, but now with my second treatment, having had the same regime as the first time, my medical oncologist indicated that I can expect the same thing for the three cycles. The second lot of three chemo cycles using a different regime, due the treatment after next, may pose a new set of impacts.  

For the first day or two nothing untoward takes effect. However after that, the two days following, the lethargy and fatigue is almost overwhelming. Lifting your arm to hold a cup of tea (that someone else  has kindly made for you) takes incredible strength to even get around the idea that you have a cup of tea that ideally you should drink!! You stare at a book or at the television hoping for some pleasant distraction but it hazes in front of you. To hold concentration requires an effort that you are simply incapable  of making. You are just inside your own head the entire time with random thoughts murking through your brain. If you are lucky, you will fall into a sleep  - which hopefully kills a few more hours towards that time when you will be feeling better. Often though the dreams are unsettling and bizarre in content and meaning and a cause for some anxiety. As the chemo works its magic, your symptoms take centre stage on the third and fourth days.

Throughout the day and every hour or half hour throughout the night, your body is trembling with chills and you feel just so wretched. If you are asleep, your soaring temperature awakes you with the last vestiges of cold shudders running through your body before the heat gets turned up to high. Despite your age, despite your circumstances, you revert to that little child inside and you simply want your Mum so she can make it all better. Suddenly, your body stops trembling and your body temperature soars.

You are burning up and your clothes stick to your body. You claw at the previously soft and toasty warm hand knitted beanie that so recently cocooned your bald head. Now it feels harsh and scratchy on your sensitive pasty skull. You rip it off your head to get relief. You throw the blankets and the jumpers off. You are sweating like a pig. You stink !! The chemicals oozing from your pores make you smell manky and horrid. Like some industrial spill, the odour is both toxic and 'commercial' - not human at all. You are damp and clammy in every body crease. And you just want to make it stop. And then the exhaustion sets in. Without leaving the prostrate lying position, you have run the equivalent of a half marathon and if you are lucky, you will sleep.

This pattern repeats for a few days and at night it is more frequent. In the stillness of night with no distractions, the impact seems so much more violent and so much more traumatic. The morning dawns and you are exhausted and spent. But at least you are one day (and night ) closer to the end. This week has been tough.

Just when you think you can't bare it any more, the symptoms shift and life becomes a little easier. The trembling and temperature swings cease and a constant low level nausea has now set in. But never fear queasy readers, I have two nauseau reducing strategies up my sleeve to combat the worst. Firstly, at my disposal is the miracle strength capabilities (in my mind, at least) of these amazing Ginger tea bags provided by the lovely Ron. Ron, Siobhan, I and our dodgy plumbing ........salute you!!! Second, is my anti-nausea kit provided by the ever thoughful Michelle, whose essential supplies of fruit tingles, peppermint lip balm and a totally herbal, nausea-preventing wrist band  leaves me strong and superwoman like in the face of cryptonite strength nausea.

So with some nauseau and the ongoing feeling that my gums have been scoured with a Brillo pad, I march onwards and hopefully upwards. My gums have become all soft and gooey and cannot abide salty or any tough food that needs some mastication. But compared to yesterday and the days before peoples, life is better...........so much better.

So all things being equal, I will now be on the improve and can start getting out and about. I can now start to enjoy the hair and hat options that I have before me and  give the neighbourhood (and blog readers) a very good laugh.


Take it easy and keep your hair about you!!!

Kelly xxxx

1. 
   

A Close Shave..........Hair 'Razing' Indeed !!!!!!

Good Day Hair Style Fashionistas,

Early week getting thinner at temples 

and around hairline
 but sufficient for quick trips in public.

After the unexpected and shocking commencement of my loss of hair last Thursday (13th June), I carefully nursed the precious strands through the weekend and into the early days of the following week.  On the Monday and Tuesday I could still get around town with a head of hair that, whilst it looked thin, lifeless and dull (and a stiff Melbourne wind could have whizzed it away in seconds) it still wasn't publicly shocking - unless you are a hypercritical Virgo, such as myself and to mine it looked like a travesty of a 'do' and the hair police would be on reasonable grounds to sentence me to house arrest for 12 months until it improved.

Thinning at the crown like Prince Charles!!! Pun intended!

But by Wednesday morning of this week, (19th June) it was just plain sad. 

I cannot express how utterly depressing it was to look at it in the mirror and to have to continously be picking it up from the floor, from my collar where it would fall and gather like some hairy and tickly scarf. I would also have to pick it out from down my back where lots would have fallen down and inside my shirt. It would hang mid suspended from the remaining in tact hair J&Just waiting to drop, or fall across and stick to my face. My scalp was terribly tender as my once lovely shiny hair just gave up the ghost.  I couldnt even try on the wigs to show Siobhan over previous nights for fear of most of coming out before some appointments and the big shave off.

I had to also head out that afternoon firstly to the Peter Mac Familial Genetic Cancer Centre and then to the Medical Oncologist. The genetic Counsellor took me through the possiblilities of me having the BRCA 1 or BRCA 2 mutation but I have only a very low percentage of that, so thats very good news. It has to be more than 10% probability risk  to get a government paid test at $3000 - $4000 and I am below that so am happy with those odds.

My family history suggests I have some genetic drivers for a higher than usual risk of breast cancer but work, whilst currently underway, has yet to identify what those drivers are to what the genes are. It is apparent given the number of breast cancers in my mother's family that we all probably share some common drivers in some genes but that my mum and I had more of those 'drivers' than the other female members who have had cancer or DCIS (ductal carcinoma in situ). As the only direct line mother to daughter, as opposed to other cousins who have a grandmother to grand-daughter line, I am a slightly higher risk. A very interesting field though, I would have to say.

Then I had to head to see the rogueish Irishman that is my medical oncologist. I showed him my "medical blog" called "Toxic Tome of a Sick Chick" which details what he requires in terms of actual descriptive side effects of the treatment and I have opted for this rather than hand write a daily journal. For any of you who has ever had to decipher my handwritten notes, instructions, postcards, letters or white board words of wisdom,  you will fully appreciate this thoughtful gesture on my part. Anyway, he can log in and check my progress as I go rather than wait for my scheduled appointment. I think I saw I wry smile on his face at either my efficiency or my pretencious blog titles!!! Lisa, my delightlyfully helpful Breast Nurse was her reassuring self and heads to Ireland in a few weeks, the lucky thing !!! I am most jealous as that is a destination Siobhan and I are planning for in our next holiday - a touring holiday of the UK. All good with that appoitment as well and I had doned a cap as I still has hair jutting out the sides and back so it looked passable. But by evening when the cap came off - I had very noticable bald spots.

By Wednesday evening I was soooo ready to have the whole lot shaved off. 

Not a pretty sight at all

I had originally intended for Siobhan and I to host a weekend afternoon get together for all the wonderful supportive friends who were available to have a bevie and a nibble as we shaved off my hair. For no other reason than to have a laugh and anyone who wanted to try their hand at clippering under the surpervision of Pauline (I am not entirely stupid peoples!!) could do so. I didnt want the loss of my hair to be a sad little affair with just Siobhan and I in the bathroom clippering and crying over spilt hair!!! But the toxic capabilities of FEC outsmarted me, before the idea could become a reality. 

Getting ready to start at the back

So we asked my two oldest friends Pauline and Tony to clipper and take pics and then have a lovely dinner and some nice wine.We also tried to film it on video but we got the whole record v pause indicators confused so we have only a start and finish for your entertainment!! I met Tony and Pauline back when I was 18 years old and we have remained friends all this time, something I am so privileged to still have. Together with my lovely supportive Siobhan and Pauline's husband Rob, and Baldie at the end of the table, a lovely happy night was had. I hate to sound all therapy and journal-like here peoples, but my acceptance and comfort with this new look was so based upon it beginning with a positive rather than negative or sad process. I highly recommend it as a coping strategy.

So Pauline began the clipping  process with Siobhan on camera, Tony taking pics and Rob throwing in smart arse comments from the side line. Clearly that man has learnt nothing from being a regular golfing gallery member!!!!!!

It is a weird sensation indeed

With the back completed Pauline moved to the sides and the front and decided to revisit her creative side with her idea of transtional styles before heading for the Sinead O'Connor look!!!

A formal 'Up Do' of the Comb Over

The Kevin Bartlett Comb Over !!

Finally my personal transition fave.......a style popular with the Third Reich!!!!

Hitlers moustache has made its way onto my noggin!!

So having had her fun, she commenced taking the last remants off with the clippers.

No turning back now

Side profile

Bald as the proverbial........

We left the process there and didnt shave the stubble off, as dinner was nearly ready. Siobhan offered to do that after Chemo on the Thursday but it may wait until the weekend. We have a short video of live action but I will post that a bit later.

And finally good friends, the blessed advantage of make-up, good lighting and a blurry photo. In my mind's eye, if I can believe I look like this when not wearing a wig, then I will be ok........

Second chemo cycle is next so stay tuned ...

 Keep your heads warm .......Kelly xxxxx

Moulting Minogue...Losing my Hair yeah yeah......

Hello Hirsute Humans,

As you know, everything has been tripping along swimmingly in the last two weeks after my first week of chemo, which was a bit of a struggle. Since that time I have enjoyed visits from lovely friends and wonderful cousins, I went to the legendary H's birthday party, a preliminary house warming for the Taj Mahal of Ascot Vale, played "ladies-who-lunch" with Pauline,  and again with Viv, was cooked an exquisite signatory dish of roast beef and Yorkshire pud by a closet culinary culprit who moonlights as an Executive Director of Nursing over in the western suburbs, and have had some wonderful foodstuffs cooked and so kindly provided to us. (Sally, Rosa, Andy & Rebecca). In short, its been good. (notwithstanding Carlton's last two outings......got in before all you filthy pies, dons, hawks etc)

But clearly the number 13 is not my lucky number. Here in 2013, I get diagnosed with this and then on Thursday 13th June having my daily shower and as I am enjoying the feel of warm water cascading over me, no longer sore or limited in movement due to surgery or healing wounds, I look down and watch in horror as strands and strands of my hair are carried towards the murky depths of the shower drain.

At least two weeks earlier than I expected this to happen, the actual reality is so much more confronting than the concept or the idea of  losing one's hair. I have known this would happen and prepared for it accordingly, as readers will know from earlier posts. I am wig ready.  In true rational, logical and methodical Minogue style, I knew I needed the wig (s), I also needed warm, soft and non-itchy beanies that don't make me look like a "carnie",  and I needed a good eyebrow pencil and appropriate make-up to ensure that I dont look like a walking flesh coloured bowling ball with squinty little eyes!!

With all this theoretically at the ready, I was surprised to find myself in a flood of tears, which in hindsight was the last thing I needed,  as it only helped my floating hair strands disappear post haste down the bloody drain buoyed by the additional water supply emminating from yours truly. I jumped out of the shower and with painstaking patience gently combed my hair and this was the result

This was just from the comb - I rescued double this from the drain as a plumbers' bill is the last thing we need right now

I can only put it down this unexpected reaction to one thing. As a former hairdresser, I have never been that fussed about my hair. You cut it, you colour it, you change it - it grows and it grows back. My days of being overtly interested in its capability to frame my face, update my look etc are long gone. Its hair. But this loss, albeit as people keep saying, a temporary loss, is so public. The hair loss is something you will be able to see. He will be able to see. She will be able to see. My little trial of dealing with this is now no longer something I share just with those close to me. I have lost control of who knows,  and control is an element I love at the best of times, let alone the worst of times.  So it knocked me and now four days later (Monday) I am preparing myself to get the lot taken off, having sensibly gotten a transition haircut only last week!!!

Last week, Siobhan and I went to the talented  Courtney for haircuts. Courtney did her usual brilliant job with Siobhan's hair and when it was my turn, I asked her to take it shorter because of all this pallaver which would make it easier when the hair loss happened - in the coming weeks - or so I thought. Courtney worked her magic and I was really happy with how it looked.

So with my new "coiff" I was prepared to enjoy a healthy and happy week before my next blast of chemo. I headed for a massage last Friday. Total bliss. But I forgot to tell Joel, the masseuse, about the hair. So when he had nearly finished the most sublime massage EVER!! - he moved to my head and began massaging my scalp. I was floating, and my brain and consciousness only returned to my body when the poor bloke, having finished a beautiful scalp massage, ran his rigid fingers from my scalp through the strands of my hair, which normally, for those who often have massages, will recall the wonderful sensation of your hair pulling against your scalp in a gentle form of stimulation..........

that is, of course, unless you have toxic crap in your system which has separated the hair strand from its anchor in the hair follicle.........

Poor Joel was immobilised with fear as his hands were full of long dark strands..... he started patting my head furiously in some vain attenpted to put it back in/on my scalp.......I nearly wet myself laughing. The poor bugger. 

After that I headed back to the wig shop to decide on a wig so I was ready when my hair became to thin to perservere. I have decided on two but you will have to wait til my next installment to see them!! The suspense is killing you I know!! Just dont laugh in front of me otherwise it wont be the suspense killing you....that will be me. 

Saturday and Sunday resulted in more hair loss and the stuff is just everywhere, on my pillow, the head rest of the couch, everywhere. I am shedding more than the four westies combined. Siobhan and I headed for Daylesford on Sunday. We have decided that if I am well the weekend before each of my chemo treatments we will head to a regional counrty town for a lunch as a little reward for marking another treatment off the list. 

Yesterday was Daylesford. It was a beautiful brisk winter's day with glorious sunshine. We headed first to their bot gardens where Alla Wolf-Tasker has the Wombat Hill Cafe for a light morning tea. 

Siobhan, doing a Gen Y and 'posing' for the camera outside of the Wombat Hill Cafe!!

Then with the four westies on lead avec their tres chic winter coats on, we browsed the main drag (the dogs were a draw card for every child and dog lover in the place - they hated the attention.....not) and purchased a tasteful (if there is such a thing) beanie for moi. - a combination of al Paca, wool and Possum. Very soft, very warm - and before anyone gets bent out of shape. The possum is an introduced species in New Zealand, hence it is regarded as vermin there and not protected like it is here as a native animal. So I have a NZ Possum Hat to wear. ( call me Danielle Boone)

We headed to Darmaggi in Hepburn for lunch and cannot recommend it highly enough if you find yourself in the area. Magnifico!! Heading home, we stopped at Passing Clouds for some of their vey noice Chardonnay to add to the collection. It needs a year or so - so rest assured none for me!! 

I ask that you indulge me here good people for a few entirely gratutitous shots of "aw shucks" moments of the dogs at the winery.......

And finally, a close up......although my hair is falling out all over, my temples and now extended hairline at the forehead is showing up first. Pauline has kindly agreed to come over and shave the lot off  on Wednesday night before the vacuum cleaner has a coronary trying to keep the place tidy......stay tuned next time for live camera action ...........

Stay Warm Possums !!!!!!!

Kelly xxx