(Actually, my eyebrows have thinned quite a bit, but they are not completely gone. See the last two photos for a more "realistic" look.)
Finally . . . a life-long dream! I'm a Vulcan! As a child, I had stick straight bangs that gave me the Spock look, but this is the first time I've ever had the eyebrows! Rather, perhaps, I should say that this is the first time I've NOT had eyebrows so that it was easy to draw them on. I haven't figured out how to master the ears yet. I have no plans to buy pointy tips!
(Actually, my eyebrows have thinned quite a bit, but they are not completely gone. See the last two photos for a more "realistic" look.)
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It was a Saturday and my husband and I were sitting with a friend and his wife at a McDonalds in Hong Kong, sipping tea, coffee or Coke Zero . . . depending on the person. (One guess as to what my drink was!) We had arranged to meet this couple prior to a five-day long retreat for folks who live and work in Mainland China. They are the leaders of an organization that provides accountability for people who are in China for strategic reasons. We had brought them up to speed on the fact that I had a biopsy the day before and that I was to call the doctor for preliminary results at 11:30 a.m.
I left the McDs to walk to the lobby of our nearby hotel. The McDs was a below ground location with poor cell phone reception. The lobby was a quiet room, with two chairs and a nearby notepad and pen. I grabbed them and made my call. My doctor was leaving for his week-long vacation in the Maldives that afternoon and had come into the office specifically to get my test results. "I'm afraid the pathology report shows cancer. We don't know all the details yet, but you need to extend your stay in Hong Kong." In that instant, my life changed. It's not like I all-of-the-sudden had cancer . . . it didn't just suddenly made an appearance in my life, but it was definitely a sudden moment of awareness. I asked the doctor if we were looking at a mastectomy or a lumpectomy and he said that he couldn't tell at that point in time . . . that more information was needed from the continuing studies the pathologist would make throughout the week. We set up an appointment for ten days later, when he was back from vacation. Cancer. Even though my mother had died of breast cancer, I never really thought that I'd have it myself. To be honest, I felt that if I ever got cancer that it would more likely be lung cancer due to all the pollutants in the area I live in. I'm not a gal who needs to be coddled. I was very matter-of-fact on the phone and made notes as I talked to the doctor. Random thoughts went through my head as I walked back to the McDonalds. "Cancer. Okay, it's cancer. Cancer is treatable." I took a deep breath and walked down the stairs and to the corner where three pairs of eyes watched me. I sat down and said, "Well, there's signs of cancer, but he doesn't know to what extent. We have to wait for more test results." My eyes teared up, but I didn't cry. Cancer. What an emotion-filled word those six letters form. More deep breaths. I answered their questions, using the notes I had taken during the conversation. This couple's son had lymphoma as a child (diagnosed in Hong Kong, of all places!), so they had walked the cancer road before. They prayed with us and used the words, "Vickie's cancer" in their prayer. I remember thinking about how traumatic those words sounded . . . I didn't WANT cancer to be attached to my name . . . and yet, I also remember thinking that all those other people in the McDonalds could be living out their own traumas at the same time! I didn't feel "alone" because I knew that we all have an untold, or non-public story. A friend of mine recently referred me to the website http://www.writingthroughcancer.com . I HIGHLY recommend this site! It's put together by Sharon Bray, a cancer survivor. Writing Through Cancer features weekly writing prompts designed to encourage anyone living with cancer, another debilitating illness or difficult life circumstance, to write from that experience. In other words, it's not just for those with cancer . . . it's for anyone living with a difficult life struggle. This week's writing prompt was this: “Write about the moment when the doctor said, ‘Cancer.” She encourages each writer to "describe the moment in as much detail as you can: Where were you sitting? What were you feeling? Did you hear the doctor hesitate? Did you notice his/her face, her eyes? When you heard “cancer,” what happened? What was it like the moment before you got the news? And after?" She then takes the challenge a bit further . . . "But don’t stop there. Write about that same experience again, only this time, put yourself in your doctor’s shoes. Write about the same moment again, but write from the perspective of the doctor, the one who delivering the bad news. What the doctor might have seen as she looked at you or heard when you came to the telephone? What might she have felt? Write in as much detail as you can. When you finish, compare both. What happened in each? What changed? Did you discover any new insights or understanding? Write about the experience of taking the doctor’s point of view." I *have* thought about what my doctor may have felt. While he is a general surgeon, most of his current experience is with gastro-intestinal patients and thyroid patients. I'm not sure how often he has had to give a cancer diagnosis to people. I didn't sense any hesitation on his part. He was very matter-of-fact. I did notice that he never expressed any type of condolence . . . he never said, "I'm sorry, but . . . ." Believe it or not, I felt bad for him having to come in the day he was leaving on vacation and having to give me "incomplete" news. I have since wondered if he was able to put it out of his mind or if he dwelt on the case while he was away. When I met with him upon his return, he was just as matter-of-fact as he had always been. He gave me the news that it was invasive cancer and that even more testing was needed for more complete information. While I was hoping for a less severe diagnosis, I was also quite relieved to have a definite answer. I had spent ten days praying and conducting research, so I was able to understand everything he was saying. Because of having time to prepare, I was equally matter-of-fact which made him say, "You're being very brave in the face of such news," I didn't think of it as being brave . . . I thought of it as needing more information before being able to react. Yes, I've cried. I did most of the crying in the ten days between the initial diagnosis and the more complete diagnosis. At one point, I went to a park by myself and wept while sitting on a park bench, mindless to what others may have thought. I've been weepy a few times since then, but I can't say that I've had a major boo-hoo session in a while. I ended up switching over to a breast specialist who saw me the same day as the follow-up appointment with the general surgeon. It only made sense in light of what we were facing. The full diagnosis of Stage IIIb breast cancer came two weeks after that initial phone call and my first treatment was ten days after that. Did my world come to an end with my preliminary diagnosis on January 21, 2012? No. Did it come to an end with a more detailed diagnosis on January 31, 2012? No. Did it come to an end with my complete diagnosis on February 4, 2012? No. My world is still going on. I may eventually die of breast cancer metastases. I don't know. However, the fact is, I'm not dead now. I am more than alive, living a whole new world order. I know that some people, when faced with a major crisis, may ask the question, "Why me?" To be honest, the question, "Why not me?" has come to my mind more often. Why should my life be spared hardships, only to have someone else to have suffering? This doesn't mean that I wish for this to be happening in my life . . . in fact, I still pray for a miraculous healing . . . but I don't protest that it is happening. I have cancer. No ifs, ands or buts about it. More importantly, though, I have today. You have today. That's all any of us have. No guarantees of a tomorrow. I don't want to use the trite, "You could be hit by a truck" analogy, but where I live, that happens way too often! People get hit by trucks and buses all the time! When one lives in a developing nation, I think there are more reminders at how fragile life is. I have been given the gift of one more day. That's as much as I can ask for. It's my hope to live each day with great joy. As I ponder "what's next?" I am reminded of God's faithfulness in the journey. What more could I ask for? This is not a "complaining" post or a whine. No pity party . . . just some observations.
First, let me start by saying, I love being bald! I think it's a unique experience and overall, it's pretty cool. Sometimes, though, it's downright cold! I don't like having to wear a head covering all the time, though. I feel like I have a towel on my head even though my little jersey knit cap is very light. However, the temperatures aren't high enough yet to warrant going without some time of hat/cap/scarf. I know I've always been told about how much heat one loses via one's head, but I had never experienced a "'cold head" until now. I miss my shower routine. It used to be that I would get in the shower, get all wet and put the shampoo in my hair. Lather up, massage the scalp and then wash my body. Rinse. Massage head some more. Apply cream rinse. Shave underarms (each and every time I showered!). Shave legs (about once a month!). Rinse everything. Stand under the warm water for a minute or so and then get out. It wasn't a very elaborate routine, but it was mine. Maybe ten minutes max. And now? I get in, get wet, scrub my body with my scrunchie thing (I have no idea what it's called) and then I'm done! No hair to wash, no hair to shave! Dang! What do I do now? I think I understand the term, "Shower like a man!" I feel wasteful if I stand under the water for ten minutes, but I feel cheated if I'm done in two minutes. Sigh. I also miss the nighttime routine of brushing my hair. This, too, was pretty simple, but I can no longer do it. I usually wore my long hair in a headband. I would take out the headband and brush my hair, massaging my scalp with the hair brush bristles. Ahhhhh, soooo soothing! I miss being able to eat spicy food. A sore throat is a common side effect of chemo and I've found that my beloved spices just burn going down. I have plenty of good food without the spices, but I miss the flavors. I miss not being able to smell. Before chemo, I never had a strong sense of smell and now I can smell absolutely everything. This is NOT a good thing . . . especially in China. I *really* miss teaching! I love teaching. I am glad, however, that I'm able to continue teaching via writing and via meeting with a few beloved students on a one-on-one basis. I miss being able to go out just for the sake of going out. While my blood counts are good in the latter half of my cycle, I still tend to avoid crowds. I don't want to get sick as that would delay my next cycle. As it is, I have a small cold that was brought into the house by others. I miss being able to get through a day without taking a nap or without feeling tired if I miss a nap. However, I don't sleep that well at night, so naps are necessary. In spite of all I miss, I do know how incredibly blessed I am! I receive messages all the time from all over the world. I'm able to spend more time reading, reading, and reading . . . one of my absolutely most favorite things to do! I get to spend time studying all kinds of things. I'm able to spend more time planning meals for my family. I picked up a long-unfinished cross stitch and I'm working on that. I'm working on a knitting project as well. I'm able to watch Smallville on DVD. Yes, a bunch of other "little things" have replaced the "little things" that I miss. It's all about perspective. I could spend time focusing on what's gone. I believe that doing so would merely make me bitter. However, by focusing on what I do have, I am able to fully realize that life isn't about what's gone, but about what *is.* I am loved. I am blessed. I am so much more than what this disease portrays. I am a beloved child of God, resting in his promises of grace. I’ve been visiting my classes this week and it’s been both a rewarding and eye-opening experience! Most of them are amazed that I’m leaving my house and most of them are stunned that I don’t have a wig. Women just don’t walk around with bald heads here! (I do wear a cap most of the time as it’s still somewhat cool, but I can see myself going around with a “nekkid head” at some point in the future!)
Here in northwest China, a cancer diagnosis is often considered to be a death sentence. Most of my students’ contacts with cancer have been with terminal cases, so it’s no wonder they are confused. Many of the people they know who have died of some kind of cancer were in their 50’s at the time of their deaths. When I ask them for more information, they tell me that the disease was too advanced at the time of diagnosis or that the medical treatments were too expensive. Occasionally, I simply hear, “the treatments didn’t work.” These stories make me incredibly sad for my students’ sake. We see and hear a lot about China these days and much has been said about her fast development. However, for the vast majority of China, the rapid rise and higher income levels has also increased stress and pressure. China has universal healthcare. What this means is that everyone is supposed to be able to see a doctor at an affordable price. That’s it. When someone needs to see a doctor, they go to a hospital (typically, early in the morning), stand in line to register to see a doctor, pay the fee (varies according to the type of doctor, usually 5 – 15 yuan) and then wait for their number to be called to see the doctor. One does not make an appointment for a time! You can register to see the doctor at 8:00 in the morning, but you may not see him/her until 3:00 in the afternoon! There are no stand-alone clinics or independent doctors’ offices. They are all at the hospital. The universal health care does not cover the cost of tests and/or treatment. Consider that a yuan has the same spending power in China that a dollar does in the US. A simple blood test (CBC) costs 41 yuan. If you want your glucose levels checked during that same blood test, it will cost more. Medications can range from the very cheap to the very expensive. X-rays are about 100 yuan. CT scans are 323 yuan. MRIs are 1200 yuan. All tests and treatments are out-of-pocket. The universal health care only includes doctors' visits. While there are some who have medical insurance, the coverage is typically for accidents only and not for illnesses. The medical system in China is one of “payment first, treatment second.” For example, in November 2010, when Art had his head injury, the ambulance picked him up and brought him to the emergency room of our choice. (I had called some doctors and found which hospital was best for head trauma and asked Art’s friends who were with him to direct the ambulance to that hospital.) The ambulance insisted that a friend ride with Art so that there would be a guarantee of payment. While that was understandable, what was extremely different was when the ambulance arrived at the hospital, the emergency room insisted upon a 500 yuan deposit before anyone would even look at Art. This was a man bleeding from his ear and vomiting all over the place and the main issue was about money. Thankfully, the friends had taken up a collection before Art was taken to the hospital and they had exactly enough money to pay the ambulance and ER deposit. Later, after I got there, I was required to place a 10,000 yuan deposit for Art’s admission to the hospital. I didn’t have that much money on me and I had to negotiate a smaller deposit by submitting Art’s passport as collateral. Such a system means that people often delay going to a doctor for the more serious concerns in their lives. Most people will run to the hospital for the slightest sniffle and cold in order to receive a magic “IV solution,” but typically, the more grave the situation means the longer they wait. (For some reason, an IV seems to be the “cure-all” for most ailments. This could be a simple glucose solution to antibiotics (that don’t work against viruses), but it makes both the doctor and the patient feel like they have “done something.” ) Traditional Chinese Medicine (TCM) has somewhat of a role in health care here, but not as much as people would believe. Most people want western medicine (which is rather ironic, because in the West, many people are seeking TCM!). The difficulties with TCM is that very few people really know what’s in the herbs and solutions. Many of them may help one part of the body, but end up being toxic to another. A friend of mine last year took some TCM for something and she ended up allergic to whatever plant was used and spent two days vomiting. Medications are available over the counter, most of the time without a prescription. Or, if a prescription is needed, a “doctor” in a little room will write one for you . . . without an examination! The assumption is that if you know the name of the drug you need, then you must have gotten it from a doctor. There is rampant abuse of antibiotics here and just like the rest of the world, there will be a build-up of antibiotic resistance and “superbugs” that are harder to defeat. Narcotics are tightly controlled . . . to the point where they might not be available. Morphine is almost unheard of for pain relief. If a patient is in pain, then the patient typically needs to just “gut it out” or . . . given an IV! Mothers giving birth via caesarian section live in fear that they won’t be given enough anesthesia in the epidural so they “bribe” the anesthesiologist with a “red envelope” full of cash. The underground network lets them know how much that should be in order to guarantee the right dosage. Because doctor fees are controlled by the government, it’s not uncommon to bribe a doctor for better care as well. In some large cities, you may arrive at the hospital at 6:00 a.m. to register for an appointment, but if you pay an extra 300 yuan, you can be seen right away. For those who don’t have that kind of money, they simply have to wait . . . and wait . . . and wait. Health care is very unequal in China. What I’ve written here is true for my city in the northwest . . . a rather undeveloped area in the big picture. This may not be completely true for the large mega-cities on the east coast. However, I’ve spoken in depth with many, many students from all over the country and they’ve told me nightmare stories of their families’ medical experiences. Just like in the United States, health care here in China is a hotly debated topic and one that has no easy answers. As I personally interact with people, I deliberately bring up the subject of death. Death is a “taboo” topic in Chinese culture . . . it’s not really talked about, especially among younger people. People are afraid that I’m going to die and they don’t know what to do with this fear. My response to them is this: “I don’t believe that cancer has changed the hour of my death. I believe the time of my death was determined before I was born. However, cancer is changing how I live.” I go on to tell them that we are ALL going to die . . . none of us live forever . . . and that death is not something to be afraid of. I have an incredible peace about my life after my death and how it’s going to be so much more amazing than my life before death! Does this mean I want to die tomorrow? No, it doesn’t! However, none of us are promised a tomorrow. We have no guarantees. I remind them of how at noon on May 12, 2008, everyone ate lunch, but at 2:30 p.m., over 50,000 people died in a devastating earthquake in Sichuan province. Two hours earlier, they had no idea that their lives on this earth would end. The question for all of us isn’t about our deaths . . . but about our lives. What are our hopes? Our dreams? What is the foundation for our lives? Given the role of money in Chinese society, I ask my students and friends if making money is indeed, the most important thing in life. If they *knew* they were going to die in a year, then what would their goals be? What would they want to accomplish before their deaths? These are wonderful conversations that I am so blessed to have with people. Having cancer has given me so many opportunities to *really* talk to people. This is all a part of God’s very good story for our lives. What are *your* hopes and dreams? It's an amazing thing to watch the stages of progress in China. It's even more amazing to hear the stories of lives as their families have navigated this progress.
A student of mine, Ted, came over today . . . he was so scared that he couldn't come alone . . . he had to bring a friend with him. He wasn't sure of what I would be like and he wasn't sure what we would talk about. We had a wonderful visit, filled with lots of laughter and joy. I knew his friend quite well (in fact, she had already visited me), so the three of us had a nice time. Ted told me more of his story. Thirty years ago, Ted's dad was married to another woman and had a daughter. Ted's dad decided that married life with a baby wasn't for him, so he left. He was a building contractor and there was money to be made as the open door policy provided massive opportunities for him. He disappeared from that marriage, never letting his wife and daughter know where he was. His wife, believing she was an abandoned woman, started dating someone else and made plans to get a divorce (no easy feat for a woman at that time). When her daughter was ten, dad showed up again. Mom dropped her plans for divorce, causing her boyfriend to fly into a rage. She died an "accidental death" at his hands. Since this was considered a domestic dispute, nothing was done and the boyfriend was not held responsible. Ted's dad took the law into his own hands. Remember, he had not seen his wife for close to ten years . . . but he still wanted revenge. He and his brother paid a visit to the boyfriend and beat him up. Dad and brother were jailed for a few months and then released. During that time period, Ted's mom was happily living her life, making plans for her own marriage. Her family funded the tuition of her boyfriend to attend college and to receive subsequent medical training. Upon the completion of his training, the young man promptly married someone else! To his credit, his family did refund all the money that Ted's mother's family had provided, but that did little to heal her broken heart. Ted's mom was 28-years-old . . . and considered to be "old" for a single woman. The shame of being "dumped at the alter" also haunted her and her family. Her mother arranged her marriage to Ted's dad. Ted's mom met her husband on her wedding day. A short time later, Ted was born. He recalls happy times with his dad, but that changed when he was six years old. The call of "making money" was too strong and Dad disappeared again. That was fourteen years ago. He and his mom occasionally hear of him (he's a somewhat well-known building contractor and their city is a rapidly growing one), but never anything "from" him. They know he has had several other "wives" and Ted knows of at least one other half-sibling. Both Ted and his mom live in fear of the possible return of this man into their lives. In February, his mom bought an apartment home of her own because she is still living in the same home that Dad bought twenty years ago when they got married. She has no real plans to live in her new home, but she wants a back-up in case her husband shows up again. However, she's also quite panicked over the fact that she now has a ten-year mortgage. Debt is not an easy thing for the older generation to take on. Ted's story is one of many. He doesn't feel close to his mom and doesn't really know his older half-sister because his mom doesn't want him to have anything to do with her. He feels the closest to his grandmother who laments the fast pace of modern life. Ted feels lost among his high school classmates as many of them didn't go to college; yet, they are doing quite well with their trade professions. He has yet to graduate, but knows that he already will need to get a master's degree at best in order to get a "decent" job. In other words, he and his mom keep spending money for his education and it will be years before there is a return on their investment. Ted also struggles with the idea of "change for change's sake" versus "status quo." Many of his high school classmates married people they've known all their lives. It's against the law to get married before age 20, so many of them merely lived together in "fake" marriages because they couldn't wait for the age requirement. They had children who aren't registered because illegitimate children have no "rights" under the law. At some point, they may register their marriages, but they will not be able to register their children. Ted understands his classmates' decisions, but gets angry with them at the same time. Simultaneously, his classmates ask him, "What are *you* doing that is so great or that is so different from us?" And that, is the true question. What is the future for the young people of China? I’m not a joiner. Never really have been. I’m most likely to be the last person to join a trend. A classic example of this right now is my abject rebellion to have anything “i-related.” No iPod, no iShuffle, no iNano, no iMac, no iPhone, and no iPad. (When my kids heard that we were planning to buy a netbook for me to use during my trips to Hong Kong, they begged that we get an iPad instead. Nothing doing . . . I am not joining that parade! At least not yet!) Same goes for books and movies. I typically won’t rush out and buy a book just because it’s on the best seller list or because it’s a book club favorite. I’m much more likely to read based on personal recommendations . . . from people who know me well. (An example of this would be, The Help. Several friends recommended this book to me. I read it and I loved it! Even more so, I loved the author's comments at the end, which seem to capture my own conflicted emotions about growing up in Mississippi.) A few years ago, a little book made its rounds through many circles, The Shack, by William P. Young. People from different parts of my life raved about this book. {{Shrug}} For some reason, it didn’t interest me at all . . . at least not enough to track down getting a copy. I eventually did read The Shack while visiting a friend in Beijing. She had it on her shelf and I was able to read it fairly quickly. I can’t say that I was too impressed . . . I didn’t particularly care for the author’s imagery, even though that was the whole purpose of the images he used . . . to break free from preconceptions. I do know I tend to look at things through different cultural lenses, so while I didn't really like the book, I can't say that I passionately disliked it either. I finished the book and moved on with my life. However, there was one paragraph in the book that grabbed me enough to write it down. (I have long written down quotes from books and have many of them compiled in a personal notebook entitled “Impact.”) Just because God works incredible good out of unspeakable tragedy doesn’t mean he orchestrates the tragedy. Don’t ever assume that He caused it or that He needed it to accomplish His purposes. That will only lead you to false notions about Him. Grace doesn’t depend on suffering to exist, but where there is suffering, you will find grace in many facets and colors. I have no idea why I recorded that paragraph. I don’t even know who said it or in what reference it was said. I tell you what . . . wait a minute . . . let me go online and check. [crickets] Okay. I’m back. It was the “God character” and originally, it was written in first person. I had changed it to third person for my little notebook. I don’t recall, though, why I wrote it down. I read the book two years ago and I can’t think of anything that could have triggered the desire to remember this nugget. Perhaps, it was all in preparation for now. I'm receiving emails from all corners of the world. I'm so touched by what people write and by their words of encouragement. What's pretty amazing, though, is hearing what people are saying about how my cancer has impacted their lives in such personal ways. I'm seeing unity among an extremely diverse group of people . . . unity that goes far beyond my physical health. I see God's hand working incredible good out of this journey. It's pretty incredible to see all this happening around me. Sometimes, I feel like I'm merely a spectator and/or listener . . . and a masterpiece is unfolding before my eyes/ears. Photo credit: http://tctechcrunch2011.files.wordpress.com/2009/08/the-shack1.jpg (obtained 3/15/12)
I tried something completely new . . . a video update! Oh, my, goodness, there may be hope for me yet. I am not very advanced in the technology world, so this is a major step up for me! Let me know what you think!
First of all, thank you for praying for us this past week. Thanks for everyone checking in, etc. Overall, things are going well . . . more about that in later paragraphs. I am very glad to be home! This round of chemo has resulted in more severe gastrointestinal side effects. I started vomiting four hours after chemo ended and it basically hasn't ended yet. It's worse in the mornings and evenings and after movement (i.e. after the MTR stopped moving; after the car stopped moving; after the plane stopped moving, etc.). The heightened hyper sense of smell has kicked back in so that triggers the gag reflex as well. Even talking makes me feel very nauseated, so believe it or not, I'm being quite silent! I am forcing myself to eat some very plain pasta right now as I haven't had a full meal since Tuesday afternoon. I did manage to eat 1.5 pieces of toast yesterday. I feel wussy and whiny and weak. Have I ever mentioned how much I *hate* throwing up? I would never be a good bulimic! Hopefully, today will see lots of improvement. (Side note . . . one benefit to having no hair is that you don't have to hold it out of your way when you are vomiting into a barf bag! This is probably too much information . . . !) This makes two down; six to go! One quarter of the way through the chemotherapy! Now that I have the complaining portion of the program out of the way, let me tell you about the good news! After just one chemo treatment, the tumor has shrunk by about 40%! This was better than the doctor expected. From what I understand, such a large drop in area typically happens after the second treatment. He said that the reduction in size will level out till treatment five, when a new drug will be used and then another sharp drop will occur. The next good news is that the test results for the Her2 gene that stimulates cancer cell growth came back negative! This is good news on two fronts . . . the first being that there isn't a stimulation for faster cell growth. The second is that while there is a drug to address the faster cell growth, it is quite expensive and some insurance companies balk at paying for it. (This drug has to be taken for a year and it can cost up to $100,000 US). It's nice to know that this won't be a concern for us. I am so very grateful for how everything is falling into place. We still have no guarantees . . . but we do have the constant reassurance that our Dad loves us and that he will work all of this for his good and glory. Our hope is not in statistics or in medicine . . . but in his righteousness. And that's a good note to end on! He is good . . . all the time! There have been questions about the necklace I wear. The words are hard to read in regular photos, so I enlarged it for you.
There . . . can you read it now? :) The left characters are 喜乐 xǐ lè . . . JOY. My love of the word "JOY" began back in third grade when a visiting nun at my school explained it to mean "Jesus Others You" and as "nothing (the O) should come between Jesus and you." That made such an impact on me, that I said that if I ever had a daughter that I'd name her "Joy." When Art and I got married, the "乐“ was on our wedding invitation. And yes, one of my daughter's names is indeed, "Joy." The right characters are 胜利 shènglì (my name) and means "victory." My name was given to me by a beloved teacher in my early years in China. It's very unique for a woman and is typically a male name. Most women have flower names or names that mean "pretty" or "beautiful" or the like. Nothing like that for me, thank goodness! My teacher knew me well. An older Chinese woman once told me that it wasn't a very good name for me since it meant "victory in war, not a basketball game." Exactly! That's exactly what my names means! "And that about wraps it up. God is strong, and he wants you strong. So take everything the Master has set out for you, well-made weapons of the best materials. And put them to use so you will be able to stand up to everything the Devil throws your way. This is no afternoon athletic contest that we'll walk away from and forget about in a couple of hours. This is for keeps, a life-or-death fight to the finish against the Devil and all his angels." Ephesians 6:12:10-12 The joy is in the victory that has already been won! Praise God! It didn't take long! My hair was falling out fast and furious . . . and bare patches of skin were beginning to make their appearance, making me look as if I had some weird scalp problem. However, the worst part of the deal was the fact that hair was EVERYWHERE in the apartment! I was afraid my family would choke on hairs in their food, so yesterday, I went to a nearby hair salon.
I whipped my "chemo-cap" (seen above) off my head and said, "I would like you to shave my head." The lady stared at my head rather askance. I'm sure I'm the first foreign woman she's ever had to make that request! "I can see your hair looks bad, but why do you want me to shave your head?" "See this?" I reached up and pulled out a hunk of my hair . . . it didn't hurt to do so. "I have breast cancer and I'm receiving chemotherapy. The drugs are making my hair fall out and it's really a lot of trouble right now." There were several other people in the shop, one of whom I knew by acquaintance. I smiled at her and chatted a minute with her. There was a bevy of activity and everyone left among cheery goodbyes. I sat down in the chair and the lady placed a cape around my shoulders. "So, your hair is falling out. Why is that?" I repeated what I said about chemotherapy and this time, in the absence of other people, she understood what I was saying. She wished me well in my treatments and proceeded to shave my head. She was quick and had a light touch. It took her about five minutes or so and I happily paid her the eight yuan . . . about $1.25 US. I went home and took a shower to get rid of all the loose hairs. Rachel wanted to touch my head to see how it felt (like sandpaper), but Michael kept his distance from it. It's going to take a bit of time for them to get used to it. Believe it or not, I'll need to "de-fuzz" my head with duct tape in order to get rid of the stubble over the next week or so. The next photo should see me with an absolute "Kojak" look! In the meantime? People say I look more Chinese than ever! On top of that, I got a decent night's sleep since there were no more hairs to irritate my follicles. No more headache! |
God's Story_I believe we all have a story. This blog records my story and how I've lived with breast cancer both as a primary disease and a terminal disease. I believe this is all a part of God's story for my life. This blog unapologetically includes all areas of my life: my faith, my family and my advocacy for change in the metastatic breast cancer world. Archives
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