Monday, July 15, 2013
Cancer and Discrimination in a Small Town
I may be cancer free, but it will always be attached to me, especially while living in a small town where everyone knows my name and my story.
Yes, I have permanent side effects from all the chemo, radiation, medications, and stem cell transplant. I have a rare and progressive disease that affects my heart and my lungs. But I am still alive and able to work. Sure, I may get sick from time to time, but doesn't everyone?
I love living in a small town, until it comes to finding employment and people knowing way too much about my previous health issues, and some current ones, and worrying about what I cannot do instead of giving me a chance to show them what I CAN do. I kicked cancers ass twice while maintaining a part-time student status. Stop discriminating and start believing!
How do you prove yourself if no one is willing to give you a chance?
I love to work and have really enjoyed the jobs that have given me a chance. Working at the greenhouses right outside of town has allowed me to work outdoors, which is great since I love being outside and I get to work with native plants and I share my love of the outdoors and plants with my mom. In the past I absolutely loved working as a certified nursing assistant in a hospital setting as well as a nursing home but I had to resign from that position since I had to lower my lifting limit to 20 pounds due to my cardiologist's demand in effort to keep my heart and lungs in a more stable condition. The director of nursing at the nursing home was really sad that I had to resign because she knew that I was a hard worker and enjoyed myself as well.
That is who I am. I love to work and enjoy everything I am given the opportunity to have. But I cannot enjoy that if no one allows me to show them how much I love to do a good job, and my best, at what ever I do, and have a good time even while performing even the most daunting of tasks. Enjoying your job makes those you work with enjoy theirs, as well as anyone around you.
I love my town, but I may be forced to move just so I can find a job where I can use my degree in human services and psychology, because working makes me happy, and all I want is to be happy and enjoy this life I fought so hard to keep living.
Maybe one day I can survive off of selling my art pieces, which has always been a dream of mine. Until that day I will continue to search for employment while working on art pieces in my spare time.
Just in case you are wondering I am working on getting something set up so people can order prints of paintings, drawing, photographs, etc. that I have completed.
As always,
Lotza love.
Saturday, July 6, 2013
My Cancer Story: "It Is Just Hair, It Will Grow Back"
"It is just hair, it will grow back."
As much as you would like to think or hope, those are not the words a person wants to hear when their hair starts to fall out after chemo or when they find out that they are going to need chemo and that is one of the possible and likely side effects. It was a common sentence in the days before and when I started to loose my hair. I liked to manipulate my hair by braiding, curling, flipping, twisting, coloring and cutting it in various styles. Thus, hearing those words did not comfort me or make me suddenly realize that they were right, it was JUST hair.
Instead, having someone tell me that my hair would come back just made me feel silly for being upset that I would be bald. I don't know why people wouldn't just let me be upset about losing my hair. I like having hair, who doesn't? I was also well aware that my hair would return but knowing that did not change anything. It would take a while for the chemo to wear off enough to allow my hair to start growing back and even when it did start to grow it was a very slow process.
When I first started chemo I was too sick to really care about the side effects and losing my hair. I just knew that in order to get better I needed to go through the treatment recommended by my doctors. It wasn't until I started seeing my hair on my pillow in the mornings and then noticing large clumps coming out while taking showers when it really hit me that it was time to shave it off.
When I first started to notice my hair falling out I knew it was a matter of time before I would loose it all so this was the time to try something new, mohawk, spikes, edgy looks, etc. So, one of my friends brought a friend of hers that was in cosmetology school who gave me what I thought would be the first haircut and in a couple days I would get another one making it even shorter, probably mohawk style. However, my hair fell out too quickly for me to be able to mohawk it, which kind of made me sad. Instead of increasingly shortening each cut I shaved it a few days after the first cut.
It was but still was not an easy decision to make. Before being diagnosed with leukemia I finally got my hair cut and colored the way I really like it and was super excited about that achievement, what can I say, I was 19. Then just a few weeks later I was getting ready to shave it all off. The easy part about the decision was that all that hair on my pillow and my shirt was super annoying. The hard part was realizing that I finally reached the stage in my treatment where I would be bald for quite some time afterward. It made me think of what it would be like when I was able to go home and how I would respond to others looking at me, starring, and wondering why I was bald in the middle of winter.
I then had to decide if I would sport the new look, wear some fun funky hats, or try and find a wig that I liked. I went with the fun funky hats since I was not all that comfortable wearing a wig and they seemed to itch and were kind of hot. I also learned how to tie a scarf around my head, which was cool but did not seem to keep my head warm enough.
The first time I lost my hair I was really self conscious about it and would wear a hat at all times. For the most part it was because the air was cold and the hat kept me warm, but I also just did not feel comfortable without the hat. It became my security blanket. It helped hide the fact that I had cancer, especially when I was out and about. No one really thinks about someone wearing a hat in the middle of winter so it helped deter the stares that I experienced the second time around.
After I relapsed in 2005 I decided that I could care less what others thought. Of course there was a small part of me that was uncomfortable with people staring at my bald head, but I also knew that the human race was curious about every abnormal thing they saw in society and being a bald women was not normal.
I still wished that I did not lose my hair both times and it did not help that people once again said that it was just hair and it would grow back. I knew that from my previous experience with cancer and it does not make anything easier. Knowing how hard the first experience with cancer was did not make the second any easier just because I knew what could come as well as the fact that there was no way to tell what else could happen.
Sometimes when you try to say something to help make someone feel better it ends up making them feel like they are being silly for feeling the way they do. Understandably, some people do not know what to say so they say what they first think. Sometimes not saying anything, but instead listening to what another one is saying is the best. At times the comforting words helped but at other times I just wanted someone to listen to me rather than respond with words of encouragement. Sometimes that is all anyone needs.
As much as you would like to think or hope, those are not the words a person wants to hear when their hair starts to fall out after chemo or when they find out that they are going to need chemo and that is one of the possible and likely side effects. It was a common sentence in the days before and when I started to loose my hair. I liked to manipulate my hair by braiding, curling, flipping, twisting, coloring and cutting it in various styles. Thus, hearing those words did not comfort me or make me suddenly realize that they were right, it was JUST hair.
Instead, having someone tell me that my hair would come back just made me feel silly for being upset that I would be bald. I don't know why people wouldn't just let me be upset about losing my hair. I like having hair, who doesn't? I was also well aware that my hair would return but knowing that did not change anything. It would take a while for the chemo to wear off enough to allow my hair to start growing back and even when it did start to grow it was a very slow process.
When I first started chemo I was too sick to really care about the side effects and losing my hair. I just knew that in order to get better I needed to go through the treatment recommended by my doctors. It wasn't until I started seeing my hair on my pillow in the mornings and then noticing large clumps coming out while taking showers when it really hit me that it was time to shave it off.
When I first started to notice my hair falling out I knew it was a matter of time before I would loose it all so this was the time to try something new, mohawk, spikes, edgy looks, etc. So, one of my friends brought a friend of hers that was in cosmetology school who gave me what I thought would be the first haircut and in a couple days I would get another one making it even shorter, probably mohawk style. However, my hair fell out too quickly for me to be able to mohawk it, which kind of made me sad. Instead of increasingly shortening each cut I shaved it a few days after the first cut.
It was but still was not an easy decision to make. Before being diagnosed with leukemia I finally got my hair cut and colored the way I really like it and was super excited about that achievement, what can I say, I was 19. Then just a few weeks later I was getting ready to shave it all off. The easy part about the decision was that all that hair on my pillow and my shirt was super annoying. The hard part was realizing that I finally reached the stage in my treatment where I would be bald for quite some time afterward. It made me think of what it would be like when I was able to go home and how I would respond to others looking at me, starring, and wondering why I was bald in the middle of winter.
I then had to decide if I would sport the new look, wear some fun funky hats, or try and find a wig that I liked. I went with the fun funky hats since I was not all that comfortable wearing a wig and they seemed to itch and were kind of hot. I also learned how to tie a scarf around my head, which was cool but did not seem to keep my head warm enough.
The first time I lost my hair I was really self conscious about it and would wear a hat at all times. For the most part it was because the air was cold and the hat kept me warm, but I also just did not feel comfortable without the hat. It became my security blanket. It helped hide the fact that I had cancer, especially when I was out and about. No one really thinks about someone wearing a hat in the middle of winter so it helped deter the stares that I experienced the second time around.
After I relapsed in 2005 I decided that I could care less what others thought. Of course there was a small part of me that was uncomfortable with people staring at my bald head, but I also knew that the human race was curious about every abnormal thing they saw in society and being a bald women was not normal.
I still wished that I did not lose my hair both times and it did not help that people once again said that it was just hair and it would grow back. I knew that from my previous experience with cancer and it does not make anything easier. Knowing how hard the first experience with cancer was did not make the second any easier just because I knew what could come as well as the fact that there was no way to tell what else could happen.
Sometimes when you try to say something to help make someone feel better it ends up making them feel like they are being silly for feeling the way they do. Understandably, some people do not know what to say so they say what they first think. Sometimes not saying anything, but instead listening to what another one is saying is the best. At times the comforting words helped but at other times I just wanted someone to listen to me rather than respond with words of encouragement. Sometimes that is all anyone needs.
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