"It's gonna ITCH!"

15 YEARS AGO, as this blog has made abundantly clear, I went through chemotherapy. And chemo has side-effects.

So, did I experience one of the more well-known and visible effects – hair loss? Sorta.

This was obviously a concern when we first started treatment. Not that it would have stopped us from proceeding, it was more of a question of how much I would lose, for how long and if and how it would grow back.

And I actually had quite a bit to lose. The hairline at my forehead had already started to recede (a genetic gift) but I had stopped getting haircuts for a couple of years and had a longish ponytail and a full beard.

Still, I was told, I was getting the half-and-half chemo of two different compounds. One was known to cause hair loss, the other wasn’t. Plus body chemistry and individual genetics come into play, so it was impossible to predict how or if I’d lose hair.

As it turned out, the chemicals wrecking my veins and killing the malignancy had an odd sense of humor. I got to keep the hair on my head – I’d be losing that naturally in the years to come – as well as the beard. Everything from the neck down, however, was gone.

Slick arms and legs are OK, and loss of chest hair made that area easier to mark when I started radiation treatments. But I didn’t really feel I needed a chemical bikini wax.

The fact that I was losing hair “down there” was a source of endless amusement for my female friends. Not that anyone but Gwen saw the results. It was more a schadenfreude on the part of those who felt compelled to trim or shave or wax or otherwise maintain their “area.” They knew I would learn what they had found when they had allowed hair to grow back.

“It’s gonna ITCH,” they would tease.

And they were right.

TODAY the hair on my head is kept very short, which helps make the thinning less noticeable. The beard has been reduced to a trimmed goatee. But otherwise, I’m fairly hairy. On my arms, legs, chest, nether regions – could do without it spreading to my back, but what can I do?

Having gone through the itchy days, I would not ask anyone to remove body hair unless they truly wanted to.

And I don’t mind that I became a source of amusement for my friends. Especially since I may have just done so again.

Been there, done that, got the T-shirt

TODAY, if I’m not mistaken, is Cancer Survivors Day.

Appropriately, yesterday I participated in a local Relay for Life, walking the Survivor Lap. I’ve done this several times.

Over a decade ago I attended my first one, in Stuttgart, Ark., where I was living and working at the time. The town calling itself the “rice and duck capital of the world” also had a higher-than-average cancer rate, I have heard. Could just be a statistical fluke, maybe the agricultural chemicals sprayed over nearby fields was a factor, maybe it was the almost-nightly spraying of insecticides throughout the town in what felt like a vain attempt to control the mosquitoes (rice fields require standing water, and the bugs were already very much part of the local ecosystem). Since it didn’t seem to faze the insects, I referred to the spray trucks activities as “feeding the skeeters.”

Whatever the cause, if any could be assigned as cancer is a tricky multifaceted devil, the disease touched many around town, including the great-great grandson of the town’s founder (and my landlord at the time) whose wife is a survivor. So the town embraced the American Cancer Society’s “Relay” program, and put out a big effort, with walkers on the track all 24 hours, lots of business sponsors, and tents and booths around most of the high school track.

I’ve seen places with much bigger populations put on smaller events, which is surprising and disappointing.

Fortunately, Greenfield, Ind., does a fairly good job with theirs, and instead of having the Survivor Lap start the event on Friday evening, it was set as a “Victory Lap” on Saturday morning. I guess it was easier to get survivors to come out then than to fight the evening rush-hour traffic the day before. The local state senator is a survivor, and she gave a brief speech before we walked. Afterward we had a Survivor Brunch under a big tent.

And, as with every Relay I go to, after signing on as a survivor, I get the Relay survivor T-shirt.

I have mixed feelings about these shirts I’ve collected. I am proud to support the ACS effort, but often the shirt will say something like “I’M A SURVIVOR” in big letters on the back. Being one who doesn’t like wearing his survivor status on his sleeve metaphorically, I couldn’t help but have second thoughts about doing it literally. Fortunately, some shirts – like the one I got yesterday – don’t make a big deal of it. Reflecting the optimism of the recent successful Obama presidential campaign, the Relay has a “Hope” theme this year. I don’t mind wearing that across my chest.

Aside from the ACS Relays, I’ve also gotten free T-shirts from the Northwest Arkansas Radiation Therapy Institute. (I’ll be getting into the radiation therapy memories soon.) Every summer they host a Survivor Luncheon with free T-shirts and an inspirational speaker. I’m a long ways from Springdale, Ark., where NARTI is and the event is held, but I can still have them mail me the shirts. These have different themes from year to year. My favorite was the one that was modeled on the logo of the TV show “Survivor.”

Talk about going through some challenges to be declared the ultimate Survivor. But then, our Tribe doesn’t want anyone’s fire to go out.


Postscript, and follow-up to my previous posting: Things went surprisingly well on my journey down to see my son graduate high school. Kathy* and her husband were gracious hosts, the lad was glad to see me and to help my little niece discover the ocean (my mother, sister and brother-in-law also came along). After commencement Kathy told me that my son’s grade average was just shy of Honors, and that he was already enrolled in the local community college. Life goes on.

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*Not her real name

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