Hubby did round two of Chemo on Monday – he is tolerating it pretty darn well this time. That said the hair is starting to go. I guess it is fortunate that it just looks like it is thinning so it doesn’t look too patchy yet. He hasn’t been a hat wearer for some time – so trying to find hats that he can wear at work and that will be comfortable is a bit tough. Mainly he tends to run warm anyway – so most knit stocking caps are out – I did find some made of t-shirt material – but they are slouchy and score a no go on the wear at work front.
I was actually thinking it wouldn’t bug him to be bald – I mean a lot of guys are bald and he wears his hair really short anyway. But when you start to think of it – it is really one of the first really outside visible signs that he has cancer. In fact, the sudden hair loss is kind of like waving a flag and shouting it from the rooftops. For him, this is worse than any vanity about hair – it is inviting people to question – and that is very much not his style. Honestly – this blog is not his style – but he realizes it is mine and that we are mutually coping – so he puts up with it.
There is still some minor swelling in his lower abdomen – but it is shrinking by the day – and for that we are thankful – but I still wish beyond wishing there was someone out there who could tell me this would all be OK.
I had counted on them running his PSA levels again this week before Chemo – but the Dr. didn’t want to run them again until he has another chemo session under his belt. I am so torn about this – in terms of husband’s anxiety – I see the point – we have physical signs this is all working – and his number was so high to begin with – I think that it may still be higher than he will be comfortable with. Me? I just want to see the number. But to a large extent – while this affects both of us in huge unforeseeable ways that we discover every day – this is his – he owns it in a way that I don’t. So I find myself needing to defer and think more deeply about respecting his choices and not pushing my will onto him. In the long run I fear I will really need this skill – and it terrifies me. I beg the universe every single day to not let that time come ever.
In the mean time I am going to try sewing a couple of hats this weekend – and maybe look for a light weight cotton to knit something out of. At the same time I don’t want to make these things, only because making them signifies something to me. In a way I am only starting to accept this – and I don’t want to accept this.