. . . undeniably,
genuinely,
when-it-gets-longer-it-might-be-able-to-go-boing-boing
curly.
Yup - that's what my hair does if I get it wet and scrunch it a little bit and let it dry without putting a bike helmet or work bandanna on. So I don't get to see it that way all that often, but I love it. There's no way to tell if curly is from the chemo, the fact that this crop has never been cut, or my "no-poo" routine - I have started washing every few days with baking soda and a vinegar rinse on Saturday night. It's also baby-soft, and I do obsess over touching it.
My life, like my hair, is settling into its new normal. My left ovary has regained function and is picking up the slack that Grazelda left behind (unfortunately, having only one ovary does not mean you only get your period every other month). I'm juggling work and rocking my classes and biking wherever I can and cooking good food and dreaming of broccoli. I have very vivid dreams about broccoli.
There was a day a couple weeks ago that I felt bad at breakfast. Lots of pressure in my lower abdomen depending on how I sat. Nothing I did seemed to relieve it. It wasn't horrible, but it was the kind of pain I had last July that was the very first sign of cancer. So after a little hemming and hawing, I called in to my oncologist. I felt better the next day, but went ahead and had the blood test to confirm it: With an AFP at 3.8, I still don't have cancer. I guess normal people with this sensation would just think they had gas and blame it on the mac and cheese the night before, so maybe I do feel a little more fragile.
On the other hand, my cousins Noah, Elissa, and Dustin came out at the end of February, and we backpacked down into the Grand Canyon and back out again in two days. It was beautiful and challenging, a sort of victory lap for getting Grazelda gone. How awe-some to have such a powerful, strong body that can do amazing things! And it doesn't even matter that when we stopped at Chipotle for supper on the way back, we were hobbling so badly we thought people might assume we were drunk and refuse us service.
Spring break is over. Curly hair is in. And the Grand Canyon is really, really deep.
Peace and Health and Love,
margaret
My life, like my hair, is settling into its new normal. My left ovary has regained function and is picking up the slack that Grazelda left behind (unfortunately, having only one ovary does not mean you only get your period every other month). I'm juggling work and rocking my classes and biking wherever I can and cooking good food and dreaming of broccoli. I have very vivid dreams about broccoli.
There was a day a couple weeks ago that I felt bad at breakfast. Lots of pressure in my lower abdomen depending on how I sat. Nothing I did seemed to relieve it. It wasn't horrible, but it was the kind of pain I had last July that was the very first sign of cancer. So after a little hemming and hawing, I called in to my oncologist. I felt better the next day, but went ahead and had the blood test to confirm it: With an AFP at 3.8, I still don't have cancer. I guess normal people with this sensation would just think they had gas and blame it on the mac and cheese the night before, so maybe I do feel a little more fragile.
Spring break is over. Curly hair is in. And the Grand Canyon is really, really deep.
Peace and Health and Love,
margaret
