This past Monday, November 28, turned out to be an extraordinarily long day.
And yet much progress was made on the new book!
Although the arrival time for my chemo appointment on Monday was a couple of hours earlier than normal–which would have led one to believe that the day might end an equivalent number of hours earlier–alas, that was not to be. Because last week was Thanksgiving, lots of people like me opted not to have treatment on that Monday or on Thanksgiving Thursday (the only two days of the week that chemo is administered). Instead, a whole gaggle of us shifted our appointments to this week. That, as you might imagine, led to a backup of gargantuan proportions. I arrived shortly before 10:00 a.m. and left the chemo suite that night at 7:30.
Adding to the unusual nature of the day was the fact that this was the first time I’ve gone through the process alone. Normally, my daughter is with me. But she had an unmanageable conflict at work, so I went solo. Admittedly, that is not my favorite way to experience the experience, and yet I was able to make good use of the quiet time by writing a substantial portion of the chapter on the “hair thing” associated with chemo. Of course, the part I wrote during the 90 minutes following the IV bag of Benadryl wasn’t completely intelligible … or even exactly legible … since I had been making notes earlier in a spiral binder and decided, for some unknown reason to keep writing instead of plugging in my mini. But those pen strokes (and, believe me, I use the words lightly) marking up and down (and across and sideways) on the page did make me laugh. And then I got serious when the Benadryl began to wear off and the chemo drugs started infusing. In fact, I wrote for the entire four and a half hours of the infusion process.
Given my previous blog comments on the subject, there won’t be any surprise to learn that this “hair thing” is a huge component of chemo–at least for me. And the more women I meet at Sloan-Kettering, the “huge-er” the subject becomes. Each person handles the trauma differently. And some, amazingly enough, don’t even use the word trauma. Yet all are deeply affected by this particular side effect, which hits every part of the body, not just the head. Eyebrows, eyelashes, everything–nothing is sacred. Consequently, the manner in which women come to grips with the situation has become increasingly fascinating. And this chapter is extraordinarily important to me, because I’m hoping to offer a small measure of help to women who might be feeling alone or isolated in the midst of the decisions they have to make and those things over which they have no control.
My goal of having this book available on Kindle, etc., by the end of December seems attainable at the moment. And I’m especially motivated now that I’ve enrolled in the January Writer’s Digest Conference (https://cherilaser.wordpress.com/2011/11/25/happy-thanksgiving-wishes-for-peace-updates/) where I’m hoping to practice pitching this new work to agents, just for the heck of it.
Meanwhile, here are a couple of photos of me and my new hair taken with my Webcam in my office tonight. Thank goodness for the blessing of this thing on my head, because without it I look like a bald man! Seriously! 🙂 (Behind me is the glass wall separating my office from my living/dining room, in case you’re wondering about the reflection.) Hope you’re all having a great week!