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There was a teacher at Holliston High School who was legendary for his curmudgeonly ways.  By most accounts he didn’t teach much, and generally ruled his classroom with the congeniality of a schoolyard bully.  I never had the misfortune of having him as a teacher – and in truth, I can’t even recall who told me this story – but it’s never left my mind.

On a sultry day towards the end of the school year – mid-June in my estimation – the temperature in Massachusetts sent the mercury soaring, and like most high schools in Massachusetts that aren’t equipped with air-conditioning, HHS reeked with the combined stank of 500 sweaty teenage males and their 500 female counterparts who were trying to mask their sweat with cheap perfume.  As 30 students entered the aforementioned teacher’s room – just after lunch in the top heat of the day – they found the windows and curtains closed and the teacher sitting peacefully at the front of the room.  For a few minutes none of the students dared to ask the man if they could do something to rectify the situation – not necessarily to go out outside like the rest of the classes were doing at the time – but perhaps to open the windows ever so slightly so as to allow some air to flow.  Eventually, with 60 eyes beginning their trek towards rolling back in their respective heads, and the threat of 30 bodies slamming to the floor in a mass fainting spell, a student broke ranks and pleaded with the tyrant teacher to come to their aid.

“It’s mind over matter”, he replied.  “I don’t mind, and you don’t matter.”  Enough said.

My point is this…or actually, there is no point.  I just can’t think of the phrase ‘Mind Over Matter’ without thinking about that story.

Here is my point though – great news, to be sure.  I’ve decided that beating cancer is mind over matter.  It hit me yesterday with the subtlety of a kick to the face.  I can’t explain why – and certainly not how – but I decided yesterday that I’m cured.  Mind over matter.  There is no physical evidence to suggest as much, and this certainly isn’t doctor endorsed, but a strange feeling has come over me.  Something has told me that I’ve been cured.  Certainly I’ll continue my regimen of radiation, Temodar, Avastin, Irinotecan, broccoli, exercise and sleep – but when all is said and done, I’ll be a perfect picture of health.

Does that sound odd?  Surely.  Would I blame you for thinking that I’ve tampered with some experimental drugs other than Avastin?  Absolutely not..but I haven’t.  All I can tell you is this.  Pray for me, please. Continue to read at will, and definitely keep clicking on those ads to the right, as I’ll continue to write.  Just don’t worry about me.  I feel healthier than I’ve ever been – and I’m certain that I’ll eventually be fine.

Sorry cancer.  It’s mind over matter, and you’re not going to bring me down.

GBM

I’m linking you to this article for two reasons…

1) …to make my dear Mom happy.  I’m not sure how she stumbled upon this piece in an AARP magazine, but bless her.  She did.  While I’m not quite on the level of the three guys on NBC’s Momma’s Boy (currently airing), there’s not much that I wouldn’t do to make my Mom happy.  Not only did I read it, but I’m endorsing it as well.  Love you, Mom. 

2) …it’s actually very interesting.  Authored by a Harvard professor, this article is confirmation of what we’ve already known.  I’ll admit to deleting many of my Mom’s emails before I’ve read them (usually chain letters, computer virus notices, and warnings not to leave the house because of the gypsies, rabid animals and lawless hoodlums running amuck in parking lots across the country) – but I actually read this article, and I’m glad that I did.  Sure, it’s technically for people like me that are in dire need of healing, but I imagine that it is good advice for those of you that want to remain healthy as well.  Please read. 

http://www.aarpmagazine.org/health/super_healing.html?cmp=NLC-WBLTR-CTRL&DET=F6-110708&print=yes

We also unearthed this info recently, courtesy of a book given to me by Jessie’s Aunt Delta. 

In a study published in 2005, a doctor tracked 93 men in the early stages of prostate cancer – each of whom refused conventional medical therapies.  The men were divided into two near equal groups – a control group that went about their normal lives, and a second group that agreed to a lifestyle change that featured 30 minutes of daily walking, a vegetarian diet, and regular yoga. 

(Note: I’m not going to put myself on vegetarian diet, but I’ll eat enough vegetables to choke a dinosaur – and though I’ve yet to begin yoga, I have done some research into the possible when’s and where’s.  Exercise, on the other hand, I can handle immediately – evidenced by this picture of me Electronic Stepping my way back to health.) 

In the year-long study, of the men in the control group, six saw unfortunate tumor growth to the point that required surgery, while the others were cursed with an average tumor growth of 6%.  Meanwhile, in the group of men that orchestrated lifestyle changes into their being, none of the men saw the tumor grow to the point of required surgery, and on average the patients enjoyed a decrease in tumor size by 4%.  Blood samples were also drawn from each group at the end of the study, and in the group that dieted, exercised and yoga-ed (I know that’s not a word), their samples were seven times more capable than the control group’s collective sample of inhibiting the growth of cancerous cells introduced in a lab.

If I hadn’t already stepped today, I’d exercise right now – but instead I’ll opt for a good night of sleep.  Another part of the master plan.

GBM

Cancer and I will battle toe-to-toe in a variety of titanic clashes in the coming months and years – somewhat like the old Superstars TV series that pitted elite athletes against each other in weekly battles for supremacy.  I hate Cancer.  I loathe every speck of it, and both publicly and privately I’ll curse its name to anyone that will listen.  I have to give Cancer credit though.  It has proven to be a ferocious competitor against many poor souls – but it’s a competitor that met its match when it decided to pick on me. 

To begin our Superstars series, Cancer challenged me to a football game – the Radiation Bowl – which kicked-off in late November and has reached halftime as I write this.  Unfortunately for me, the game officially began with me already facing a deficit of monstrous proportions.  Cancer cheated and got out of the locker room early, and when the officiating crew didn’t catch it, Cancer jumped out to a massive early lead before I even took the field.  Thought to be an insurmountable lead by some, I refused to sit on the sidelines and watch Cancer celebrate a big win on my home turf – so I decided to fight back.  After ensuring that my coaching staff was ready for the challenge ahead, I took the field and decided to play rough.

While many of those that were in attendance thought I was too young to be on this stage, I couldn’t allow that to deter me.  Am I too young?  Perhaps.  But with no time to fret about what got me here, I knew that looking forward rather than back would prove to be a veteran move.  When I finally took the field I met little resistance at first, and executed my early game plan to perfection.  Yes, a few penalty flags were thrown at me on the way – illegal procedure, false start and too many men on the field – but the flags proved to be minor blips on the first quarter radar that saw me steamroll Cancer to claw my way back into the game.  I was the aggressor, dominating the game and keeping my offense on the field for the duration of the opening stanza.  Was I on my way to a rout?

At the start of the second quarter, the playing field leveled.  Cancer had its chance to take control of the game before it even started, but botched its chance and allowed me to fight back.  I took full advantage of the opportunity and gouged my way back – making an all-out brawl out of this grudge match.  My defense had to take the field in the second quarter for some time, an experience that cost me some hair but left me tougher for the battle.  We traded blows and exchanged big plays, neither side making much headway though in the second quarter of the Radiation Bowl.  I made a few advances, but Cancer battled back.  I bent but didn’t break, and put Cancer back on its heels.  Surely we’re both in for a lengthy fight.

As we stand now though, we’ve been at a stalemate since Wednesday – with neither side doing any damage since then.  We stared each other down and went into the locker room at halftime at a standstill. 

16/33 of the way through the game, the second half of the Radiation Bowl kicks off tomorrow morning – and I’m on offense first.

GBM

From a treatment standpoint, today was as ordinary as any other.  With no radiation treatment on weekends, and my next Avastin infusion not scheduled until the second week of the New Year, all that today held in store for me medically speaking was my six-pill breakfast of champions. 

Personally though, Saturday December 27^th was a landmark day for this Country Gentleman as I made my game-night debut in my new lid.  In truth, this blog softened much of the effect of me strolling into Verizon Center while doffing my new cap, as I had the sneaking suspicion that some of my co-workers that frequent BrianSereno.com were anticipating my arrival.  That said, their reactions still didn’t disappoint.  We had a grand old time trying to think of other accessories that could serve to accentuate my new look…with a stylish walking cane, monocle and kerchief at the top of the list.  In all seriousness though (the Country Gentlemen never jokes for too long), my friends and co-workers embraced my new look, and it proved to be a heck of an icebreaker and conversation starter (not that I ever have trouble finding things to talk about) if you ever find yourself in desperate need. 

On the court, as the Wizards fought and clawed their way to their much-needed and well-deserved fifth win of the season tonight, there was talk after the game that we’re now 1-0 with my new hat in attendance.  True enough, I suppose, but mere coincidence to be sure.  We’re bound to lose a game at some point when I’m similarly attired, and I need everybody to understand that neither me nor my apparel have any impact whatsoever on the success of the athletes on court.  They played well and deserved to win.  I was just happy to be there to play my small part.

I did learn afterwards that my in-laws that were in attendance enjoyed their first-ever NBA game, though I should have realized that with no NBA team in Buffalo it was likely that they had never been.  Good timing too.  The 3-28 Oklahoma City Thunder only come to town once a year, and the Wizards were due for a win.

My day didn’t consist of anything else of particular interest today.  I slept late, ate well, and worked late…and plan on repeating steps 1 and 2 on Sunday when there will be no need to work late.  With my new coif though I imagine I’ll have to give myself another haircut tomorrow, not unlike my first-ever haircut 28 years ago pictured here.

Me and my British barber, Hazel

Other

Before I delve into some of the sillier and more trivial parts of my day today – and the accompanying thoughts that ensued – I’ll address the most important issue of today’s agenda (at least as far as Duke’s protocol is concerned).  My highly anticipated second infusion was scheduled for 3:30 pm today, and to spare you the suspense, we left the oncologist’s office a short time later with 800 mg of Avastin swimming safely through my veins. 

The usual hubbub and chaos of the oncologist’s office was replaced today by an eerie serenity that I guess only Boxing Day can bring, and despite the fact that it was just Jessie and I (and the Vegas puzzle) alone in the waiting room for 20 minutes upon our arrival, I was ushered into the chemo room in an expeditious fashion relative to the usual delay that we’ve seen on nearly every other visit.  I was fortunate not to be assigned the old hobgoblin nurse that trolls the premises, and in my estimation my blood pressure settled in nicely as a result.  My pre-infusion temperature checked-in at a balmy 97.8 degrees, and while my blood pressure and heart rate (128/68 and 84 bpm) were elevated by my standards, they still fell well within the office’s range of acceptability.  After a momentary prick on the back side of my right hand (a new IV site for me), the Avastin was safely “run in” over a 60-minute period.  Known to cause high blood pressure in some, Avastin had the opposite effect on me today (or more likely I just settled down once the cocktail began to flow) because my post-IV BP and heart rate cooled to a more-like-me 120/61 and 74 bpm, respectively.

We were the last to leave

Since I had the day off from radiation yet again, the lone other part of my day as far as treatment was concerned was my morning spread of pills – an antiemetic Zofran pill at 8:15 am followed by 150 mg of Temodar at 9:15.  Today, like most mornings, I slept walked through the ingestions and downed the ½ liter of water that I drink with the pills each morning without fully opening my eyes.  Water – by definition a tasteless liquid – never much appealed to me as a beverage of choice because of that ‘tasteless’ tag, but I’ve learned to love it throughout this ordeal, particularly when served at room temperature.  I’m not sure that I could out-drink a camel (a species known to be able to drink up to 30 gallons of water at a rate of 2.5 gallons per minute in a single helping), but if given the opportunity I’d certainly give it a try.

My day didn’t consist of much else…a lunch of Christmas leftovers…dinner at Chadwick’s with my new in-laws (where we enjoyed our post wedding rehearsal dinner a few months ago)…and another shearing of my scalp, as the line between the cue ball-like baldness of my frontal dome and short-but-thick whiskers on the back of my head became too pronounced for me to tolerate any longer.  I may look like a twisted mix of cancer patient and Chris Daughtry now, but at least I don’t look like the poster child in the fight against segregated manes.                

Kudos are deserved today for a dear friend, Klein, who shared with me the hidden gem that is countrygentleman.com.  I wish I could follow Klein’s thought process that led him to punch that URL into his browser, but perhaps he was just lured by their slogan: Defining Casual Elegance.  Interesting…I think I’ve been defining casual elegance for years. 

The Country Gentlemen will make his suited debut tomorrow night at the Wizards game.  Surely I’ll elicit some interesting reactions.  It will be noteworthy to me to see how different groups react; those that are knowledgeable about my situation and will thus be tolerant (hopefully) of my coif…and those that are unaware of my situation and will certainly judge my unique choice.  Rest assured, details will follow. 

My entry in Scar Wars

GBM

I suppose yesterday’s rules are in effect again today…it’s Christmas, so I’ll make it a quick one.  Although I wasn’t particularly effective at following the Christmas Eve mandate to be quick, I’m going to try to do better today.

Christmas Day never disappointed me when I was young, and today I extended my streak of great Christmases to 29 years and counting.  Our 800 square feet of the world proved to be more than ample to host Jessie’s parents and three siblings, and Jessie and her mom had our tiny kitchen churning out dish after dish like we were hosting a White House State Dinner.  Ham, mashed potatoes and gravy, stuffing, corn, green beans, salad, rolls, apple pie and ginger bread…with chocolate fondue for dessert.  It was a meal fit for royalty, and I wasn’t bashful about taking seconds (or thirds).  I know I said that I’m trying to eat healthier nowadays, but it’s Christmas – and I’ll use the same excuse next weekend as well when my parents come to town for Christmas II.

Christmas also brought me a respite from radiation treatment, and in fact, I won’t be radiated on the 26^th either nor through the weekend.  Today began a four-day absence of radiation for me; the longest such drought of this entire treatment regimen.  I asked repeatedly if a four-day layoff would jeopardize the effectiveness of the treatment – knowing full well that they wouldn’t possibly tell me that it did – and true to form I was reassured over and over again that in no way whatsoever would it change things for me in any way at all.  I guess that made me feel better, but I’m also one to want to finish things when I start them, and a four-day break just doesn’t fall into my plans.  Lesson learned though…you can’t always have your way.

While I don’t have radiation treatment tomorrow – Canadian Boxing Day, I’m told (and I could use a brief history if anyone is aware of it) – I am scheduled to receive my second infusion of Avastin on Friday.  Hopefully it goes smoother than my first.  As I look back on that day two weeks ago when my body reacted negatively to the insertion of the IV, it actually causes me some slight concern for tomorrow.  They told me then that my blood pressure plummeted from anxiety, though I’ll still swear until I’m blue in the face that I wasn’t anxious.  My concern is this though…if I wasn’t anxious then, and though I still won’t be nervous of the IV needle itself tomorrow, how could the last incident not weigh on my mind when tomorrow’s IV nears my veins? 

As usual, I’ll be sure to let you know after the fact how it went.  Before the fact though, it will be on Jessie and I to put me in a good frame of mind – and a Steak and Cheese sub from the deli downstairs from the oncologist just may do the trick.  Last time I couldn’t eat before the 12:00 infusion because it fell within the restricted eating time.  It’s not easy to fast for two hours before treatment and two hours after, but it’s a sacrifice that I’m somehow willing to make.

The rest of my day today was relaxing and routine – though I did struggle to watch yet another narrow Wizards’ loss on national TV in a game that I’m sure we were the better team.  When Washington and Cleveland meet their respective records don’t seem to matter – a good thing in this case considering our 4-22 mark entering play and Cleveland’s near symmetric 24-4 mark.  Unfortunately the officiating crew didn’t see it our way.

I got an email today from a friend and work associate that I hadn’t heard from in some time, saying among other things that he heard that I was “sick”.  I haven’t yet responded, but it made me wonder.  Am I sick?  There is a scene in ‘The Program’ in which a football coach (played by James Caan) asks one of his players if he’s hurt or if he’s injured…continuing on to explain to the player that if he’s hurt he can still play but if he’s injured he can’t.  By Coach Caan’s definition, like his freshman running back was – I’m just hurt.  Certainly I can still play.  I suppose I’ll tell my colleague that emailed me the true depth of my situation, but I’m hesitant to say that I’m “sick”.  I’m not bedridden nor ailing nor ill.  I’m just not a hundred percent right now. 

Regardless of what you want to call my situation, I had another great Christmas today.  I truly hope that you all did the same.  Merry Christmas.

Other

Jessie has instructed me that “it’s Christmas Eve so write a quick one”…so while I usually take the time to thoughtfully and fully analyze my day and try to think of the answers to every question that could be asked before it is, I’ll follow orders tonight and make it a quick one.  She’s right, it is Christmas Eve, and if our weekend readership numbers are any indication of what our Christmas Day blog viewership will be like, I’m not expecting heavy site traffic tomorrow.

Today was fairly uneventful anyhow.  Radiation was quick and easy, and my weekly trip to the oncologist’s office was the most expeditious yet.  After we checked in and paid the obligatory $10 co-pay, we only had time to put three puzzle pieces in place in the 1,000 piece ‘Las Vegas’ puzzle that has been in the waiting room for weeks.  In fact, I have to give the credit to Jessie for finding those pieces a home.  I just sat there complaining about how hard the puzzle was.

I weighed-in in my usual 173-175 lb. range today.  I didn’t catch the exact weight but I don’t think the nurse did either.  The scale was still bouncing around when she told me that we were through…and I wasn’t in the mood to argue.  My blood pressure was 130/70…high for me, but still in the acceptable range.  I also registered a temperature of 97.1, which I think is my coldest yet but they didn’t seem alarmed.  In fact, when I told them that I’ve had somewhat of a sore throat for the past few days, they told me that it’s only troubling if it’s accompanied by a fever.  I seem to be going in the opposite direction.

The big news of the day was that my blood counts checked in on par with what is expected of them.  My white blood cell counts were down slightly to 4.2 – which are technically low as compared to healthy individuals, but in the words of the nurse practitioner, “most people in here would kill for a 4.2.”  All in all, I had to be pleased with my morning battery of appointments.

I was somewhat tired when I returned home in the early afternoon, and proved to be much more tired than I had estimated I was.  I was aiming for a quick nap of an hour or so when I burrowed into the bed at 1:00 pm today…and at 4:45 I awoke to realize that I overshot my goal by a wide margin.  I’m sure that the dreaded ‘fatigue’ that I’ve been warned about it isn’t upon me, but after my 16^th radiation treatment this morning I am crawling closer to the ‘20^th treatment’ threshold when fatigue is supposed to intensify.

After my midday nap – a nearly four hour slumber that would have sufficed as a full night’s sleep for me on certain nights – I met my new in-laws for a Christmas Eve feast at The Olive Garden.  No it wasn’t a traditional Christmas Eve gathering, but it was warm and hearty – and placed me well ahead of the curve of the countless poor souls across the country that would have traded places with me in a second tonight.  When you’ve been through what I’ve been through, you count every blessing. 

I’m back at home now wrapping up my day in my usual fashion.  I’ve realized that I didn’t exactly follow Jessie’s advice to make it a quick one…though I did rattle this off in quicker than usual fashion.  Perhaps I’m getting better at this. 

On our first Christmas Eve as newlyweds I won’t disappoint any further.  Merry Christmas to all…and to all a good fight!

Other

I mean no disrespect whatsoever to my coworkers when I say this…but sometimes I really enjoy it when they’re not at work.  I don’t mean the other gentlemen in my department, as they’ve been nothing but supportive and helpful through this ordeal and for that I feel like I owe them much more than I’ll ever be able to repay.  I also don’t necessarily mean my friends and associates in the other departments that I work closely with, as they too have served to brighten my days of late and welcome me back with arms wide open.  I suppose I just mean people in general.  Though I like to socialize at work (sometimes), and I enjoy the occasional visit to my office, I’m most productive when it’s quiet.  I don’t think anybody will fault me for that.  Today was a quiet day in the office…a day in which everybody tried to beat the Christmas Eve rush by skipping town on the eve of Christmas Eve.  With the office half-full, or quite possibly even less so, there were few distractions today at the office to keep me from the work that I needed/wanted to accomplish before I take the next two days off.  Left alone to my own devices, I planned and plotted, made phone calls and emailed, caught up on some of the things that I had left unattended to since October, and tried to get ahead on the coming New Year.  I even snuck away for a few minutes to begin my Christmas shopping – and yes, I’m aware that Christmas is 24 hours away, but my family’s ‘fake Christmas’ isn’t until the weekend after so there’s still time to procrastinate from shopping.

Aside from my fruitful work day, the eve of Christmas Eve held a few other notable moments for me.  My radiation appointment this morning was decidedly ordinary – particularly since the most talkative of the three radiation techs that rotate shifts had a day off today.  That said, an ‘ordinary’ radiation treatment is fine with me, as I can’t even guess what an extraordinary treatment day would bring.  I suppose my 33^rd treatment day will be extraordinary…but I’ll be surprised if I have an extraordinary time at radiation any time sooner.  

If I was 11 again (I’m guessing that I was 11 or so when we began the ‘What Made Me Happy Today’ game at dinnertime), I’d identify a few things – in no particular order  – that contributed to another great day for me as a cancer survivor. 

1)      The Country Gentlemen’s debut was a rousing success

2)      I made myself laugh on several occasions by referring to Jessie as “Little Lady” when wearing my cap

3)      My in-laws arrived safely in town tonight, and we enjoyed Papa John’s finest cuisine at the same local hotel that we stayed at on the night of our vows in September

4)      I used the term ‘in-laws’ for the first time, and am still laughing about it

5)      The 15^th of my 33 radiation treatments passed without incident…

6)       …and I found the words to blog about my day once again

Though I don’t have to work tomorrow, it still promises to be an eventful day.  After my 10:15 radiation treatment tomorrow morning, we’ll drive straight to the oncologist’s office for my weekly blood check.  Here’s hoping that my WBCs, HGBs and PLTs are up to par.  I’ve altered my diet to feature plenty of fluids, fruits and vegetables galore, limited sugar, minimal caffeine…and general healthiness, though I’m still not sure what a ‘legume’ is despite reading on a few occasions that they’re well advised.  I can only hope now that my counts are what they should be.  I think I’ve done my part.

GBM

Typically I only fear things that have severe repercussions.  I’m not afraid of much, but I’m confident that the things that I’m fearful of frighten me for good reason.  Snakes…repercussions.  Sharks…deadly repercussions.  Clowns…well, maybe clowns are the exception, but those things are damn scary in their own right. 

I knew that I had specifically violated the radiologist’s orders not to cut my hair when we sheared my locks last night, but I wasn’t particularly afraid when I walked into her office this morning.  What was the worst could happen?  Surely she wouldn’t refuse to treat me.  That said, I still wasn’t sure what to expect.  Her thought was that my restrictive mask was fitted at a time when my bushy curls added some size to the dimensions of my head, and without that extra volume the mask wouldn’t fit quite so snug.  With more room for me to move inside of my mask the radiation dosage might not properly be doled out…or so it was thought. 

I suppose it was a risky move on my part – but a calculated risk to be sure.  It didn’t take long to make my first mask, so I was hopeful that even if I jeopardized the integrity of the mask by removing some of the cushioning that I once provided, we could make a new mask and proceed as planned.  As it turned out – and though I wasn’t fearful to begin with – I had nothing to fear at all.  My ears and nose were sufficiently large to still hold the mask in perfect place, and the health care professionals at the radiologist’s office were sympathetic of my situation.  Not that I was particularly distraught about my hair loss to begin with – and certainly there are some good things about it (like the Country Gentlemen lid I now proudly doff) – but I must have done a more-than-adequate job of portraying yesterday’s hairy shower scene because nobody faulted me for my decision.  I was embraced for removing my hair on my own terms.

After that surprisingly uneventful trip to the radiologist this morning – and my weekly consult with the chief radiologist that takes just a few minutes in all – I made a late decision to work from home today.  The Wizards left for Charlotte and Cleveland this afternoon – a trip that I was supposed to be on if I was healthy.  I used to take my great health for granted, and I was disappointed when the Wizards schedule was released and I learned that I wouldn’t be home for the holidays.  What a mistake that was.  Never have I wanted to spend Christmas in Cleveland as much as I do now, as I’d rather be healthy in Ohio than sick at home any day.  That said, I’ll be healthy again one day soon, and I’ll consider myself fortunate when I’m healthy enough to miss future holidays while I’m on the road. 

With the team out of town and the early signs of a head cold coming on, I thought it made sense to take advantage of the relative down time to work from home in the comfort of my sweats.  I did some work online, browsed the internet, and stumbled upon this gem… http://www.cancer.duke.edu/btc/

Look for the link at the right side of the page titled A New Patient Perspective. 

I guess my 15 minutes of fame begins now.

GBM

When I sat down to write yesterday I was optimistic, upbeat, and I had a full head of hair.  Thirty-six hours later as I’m blogging again, I’m just optimistic and upbeat.  I recently wrote about how I’ve yet to be affected by the common side effects of radiation, chemo and cancer in general.  As it turns out, I spoke too soon. 

When I showered yesterday in the mid-afternoon, my hair seemingly had enough of me.  I made it through 12 radiation treatments before it happened, but before the lucky 13^th treatment my locks staged a mutiny on my head.  I had heard before that the worst part of losing your hair – at least as far as cancer-induced hair loss in concerned – is the traumatic effect of having your hair come loose in bunches.  Having gone through it now, ‘bunches’ sounds far too orderly.  When my hair came loose it did so in droves, coating my hands in my thick curls and making me look every bit of the human/gorilla hybrid in science’s missing link.  The bathtub floor that once had a white ceramic sheen was replaced by a 70s shag carpet look – and my post-shower routine became lengthier than my in-shower time.  It seemed like hours that I shoveled my hair out of the bathtub, off of the shower curtain, and into the trash – shedding in no time what it took me months to grow. 

Some people that saw me today might want to dispute my claim, but in the world of magic, this is what is referred to as ‘smoke and mirrors’.  For the first time in my life I feared being exposed to the wind…as the whipping breezes through DC threatened to expose my comb-over.  When I was getting ready for the Wizards game tonight I painstakingly placed every individual hair on my head in the optimal place for max-coverage of my scalp – and I was careful not to move or shake too much during the game as the hairs that rested on top of my head weren’t actually anchored at the root, but were held in place by an entwinement of curls that proved to be an acceptable fix for the short term, but couldn’t withstand much jostling around.

I had long debated what I would do when I reached this point.  Would I allow my hair to fall out in the shower, on my pillow case, around the apartment, and disgustingly onto my plate as I dined?  Or should I take matters into my own hands and shear it off while I still had the chance?  Perhaps it wasn’t much of a debate after all.  I’m not overly-competitive but I certainly don’t like to lose – and when I do lose I’d rather blame myself than credit the opposition.  I know that’s not a good example to set, but after 29 years on this Earth, so be it – I’m unlikely to change.  So while I have lost the battle for my hair, I didn’t want to give cancer the satisfaction of taking it from me.  I’m more than capable of taking it from myself.  Thus, after an itchy car ride home from the game tonight as the stray hairs that weren’t attached wiggled down my face and neck, Jessie and I played barber and buzzed my head almost bare.

When I showered again thereafter the picture started to take focus.  Radiation is an amazing thing.  Although the radiologist strongly suggested that I do not cut my hair – preferring for me to sport a “punk rock” look instead – I couldn’t do it.  The hair needed to go.  When it left though and I could more freely assess the damage, I found it incredible how precisely the daily radiation dose cuts across my head.  Perhaps these pictures do it justice, but I’m not sure that they do.  There is a clear line that now bisects the top of my head…separating my locks in the back where the radiation doesn’t roam from my spotty frontal region that will eventually be hairless altogether.  I’m told that it will grow back when this ordeal is over, but that it might not necessarily come back in the same quantity, texture and color as before.  I’ll hope for something similar though, if not exactly what I once had.  I think I’d look silly with straight blonde hair.

As usual I’ll choose to find the positives in this all.  It won’t take me nearly as long to shower and get ready for work each morning with my new buzzed look instead of my former wild mane.  It may have look well-kempt, but believe me that it wasn’t easy to tame.  I’ve also developed a newfound appreciation for hair in general.  It’s not that I necessarily mind being hairless, but I’ve certainly developed a new empathy for the balding among us.  I’m fortunate to have had my hair this long.  Finally – and certainly most excitingly – I’ve also found an excuse to don the cap pictured herein as well.  The tag inside reads ‘Country Gentlemen’, and naturally I’ve adopted that as a new persona of mine.  It’s stylish and sophisticated…much like I hope to be. 

I’m now optimistic and upbeat…and a country gentlemen, of course.  Albeit with a different ‘do than before.

GBM