Where to start… (I can hear Julie Andrews singing in my head: “Let’s start at the very beginning… a very good place to start…”)
The Move
At about this time Thursday night, I was beginning to panic a bit. Mom and I were down to our last couple of boxes and we still had practically the entire kitchen (small as it was, there were plenty of things stored in those tall cabinets!) and my very crowded room. Luckily, Mike showed up with more boxes (my hero!) and we were able to continue our packing frenzy. We finally – after two late night strolls to the package store to procure even more boxes and one to CVS for more packing tape – called it a wrap around 2:30 a.m. Then it was up at 6:30 to finish and get the move done.
I’ll skip all the details and just say that while it took double the amount of time (and hence cost) than estimated for my size place, since I had so much STUFF jammed in there, the movers were great, and we had everything we owned in our new Brookline home by 2 p.m. Nick and I could never have done it without Mom! (Need moving help? We’ll rent her out! 😉 )
The list of things Nick and I want for the new apartment keeps growing – and truly morphed once we had all of our belongings here and saw there’s even more space than we thought. Bistro table and chairs for the patio, coffee table, maybe a new dining table and chairs, possibly a desk for me, a set of wine glasses since mine have almost all broken, new dishes that aren’t chipped … There’s no rush for most, but what I did feel the need to immediately purchase was a fourth bookcase to match the other three I got at Ikea in London. I didn’t want to unpack all my books until I had the shelves in order. So I texted Tina and she agreed to meet me at Ikea.
The Fall
On the way, I made a pit stop at The Christmas Tree Shop to check out their patio sets real quick. FYI, their patio furniture is all connected by little cords on the ground. While walking between, one of the cords caught on my flip flop and – in what felt like slow motion, I went flying through the air, landed on my (you guessed it) right arm, and slid across the sidewalk until coming to a stop by the curb. I just lay there in shock, trying to figure out where the pain was, if I could move and cursing myself for not landing on my left side. I was the only one out there, but a man and his wife were by the door, a few feet away, whispering to each other and watching me to see if I got up. I smiled at them, and pulled myself over to sit on the curb and collect myself.
When I realized how much I was bleeding (palm, elbow and knee), I hobbled inside to the Customer Service desk and they brought out an ancient first aid kit (luckily I had alcohol wipes in my purse since they didn’t have any) and the manager. He took an account of what happened and all my info while I bandaged myself up. And then off he went to have them fix the patio sets to try to prevent it from happening again.
I felt like a pathetic mess. This is not me! What did I do wrong that all these bad things keep happening?! I don’t want to whine, but really???? Tara came up with a theory: June 30 is the last day of it all. It’s the end of the first half of the year. The first half may have sucked, but the second half will be all about recovery. Healing and good things for a change. And while chemo is not fun, it is part of the process and will lead to health. Ok, I’ll buy it. I’m ready for July 1 and all the good stuff!
In slightly better spirits due to only one more not-so-great day if Tara is correct, I got myself over to Ikea and met Tina, who, like any good mother, offered to kiss my boo boos if it would help, then to push me in the carriage when I was having trouble walking and, finally, a piggy back ride toward the end of the long store. I appreciated all of the offers, but declined. The pain worsened as the night went on, and it hurt to straighten and bend it. So, after a brief panic over if this would be the beginning of lymphedema and better safe than sorry, Nick and Tina convinced me to go to the ER. Yet another hospital adventure!
Over the several hours, first in the waiting room and then in our own curtain room, Tina and I amused ourselves people watching and eavesdropping. It was – to quote one of the EMS guys – a busy trauma night for Boston. We also kept each other laughing and mused over the fact that every time we’re in the hospital together we end up in fits of giggles, which you never hear coming from behind any other curtains. They probably think we’re crazy. We are, but that’s ok.
By 2:30 a.m. we had the answer: radial head fracture – crack in my elbow. I got a sling, pain instructions and orders to make a date with an orthapedic doctor. How many doctors does one girl need?!?!
A Break
While waking up this morning was not fun – neither the hour nor finding out my hair was starting to come out in chunks – it was for a good reason: Vanessa brought our visiting friend Trish over. Trish used to work with us at National Grid, and the three of us were Charlie’s Angels. It was so nice just to walk and talk and eat and laugh and catch-up. As with all good friends, it was like no time had passed at all, although the last time I saw Trish was at the end of the road trip, when our visit was cut short because I found out my grandmother had passed away and I needed to get home. There is never enough time, and the morning flew by too quickly. Hopefully Charlie’s Angels will reunite again in the not too distant future – we need Nick to win the lottery so we can start our non-profit PR business that he said he’ll finance!
The Shave
Once Trish and Vanessa left, I took a quick nap and then awoke to realize I could put it off no longer: there was practically more hair on my clothes and bed than on my head. Time for it all to go. I walked down the street to Alton Barbers, giving myself a pep talk along the way. While I felt I had to do it alone, I had all of my friends’ and family’s comments running through my head: bald is beautiful, it’s cool for summer, it will grow back, you’re still a princess, hair is just a pain in the butt, you are beautiful, you have great eyes and an infectious smile, G.I. Amy, big sombreros, be bold, you won’t have to shave my legs… see, I do listen, despite what some people think! 😉
Alton’s was empty when I walked in, except for the woman behind the counter. When she asked if she could help me, I just said, “I need to cut it all off.” She asked if I meant a crew cut or shaved and I said shaved. Her eyes widened, she asked if I was sure and I told her yes, because it would all be gone in a matter of days anyway. She half smiled, nodded in understanding and yelled “Mike!!!!”
Mike appeared from the back, showed me to a chair and the nice woman explained for me. He motioned toward a chair, and I sat while he prepped. My one request: “Can I please not face the mirror?” And he quickly swiveled me around. No one spoke the entire time. And then, after he used the blow dryer to blow away all the stray hairs, I broke the silence by smiling and saying “I didn’t think that hair cut was going to end with a blow dry!” They both laughed and then started gushing about how I have a perfect head and how women’s heads are so much smaller than men’s, how cool it will be for summer and how great I look. I turned toward the mirror and laughed at my bald reflection – so strange!!! I put on my pink Dana-Farber Red Sox hat (they gave me a new one when I was there Thursday morning since the other was stolen), and walked back to my new home.
I am ok. I am better than I thought I would be. I know I’m probably going to panic when I need to get ready to go out to a nice dinner, when I go to work Monday, possibly later tonight and probably a million other times, but for right now, I am ok. And I know I will be. After all, you all keep telling me I’m strong and beautiful, so I must be. Thank you… And Tara, I hope your Second half of the year theory proves to be true!
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Yup – that’s me, today. I went to work today bald. No hat, no wig, no scarf. And it actually wasn’t even that hard, even though I swore I would never do it. I’ll never forget – what seems like a lifetime ago but was probably just a month – sitting on my couch with Mike, who was helping me pick out a pre-bald short haircut from a magazine, and talking about going back to work during chemo. “You mean you’ll go to work bald?” he asked. I said, of course, when I’m feeling well enough, but never actually bald – I’ll wear hats and wigs – I would never go bare-headed. I guess some times you really don’t know what you’ll do until you do it!
Amy's America 