The girl in the mirror.

And so I looked in the mirror. My hands on either side of the basin, staring straight ahead, looking at a face, familiar but unfamiliar. The girl in the mirror. Who was she, how did she get here?.

Chemo was now part and parcel of my life for now at least, but I didn’t expect this part, I didn’t expect to be alone in a hospital bathroom, having quitely crept through the ward, not wanting to wake anyone, using the loo, washing my hands and watching the last few shreds of my hair slowly go down the sink. I had spent the last few days mortified trying to brush my hair from the pillow case despite wearing my head scarf. I am sure that those changing my bed in the Oncology ward were well used to the sad remnants of hair on sheets and pillow cases, but I wasn’t used to this. For me this was god damn awful.

I don’t think that I was ever prepared for chemo. I thought I was going all gung ho into it. I had sat with my Oncologist for my pre chemo consult. The facts were very clear, I was going to have a pretty brutal chemo for the first four times and then what was considered to be a Milder chemo for the next four. But then again everyone is different and every reaction is different, you have to just wait and see.

Now my Oncologist had given me the full list of side effects. Some I might experience, some not. But for sure I would have up days with steroids, then down days when the poison was going through my body and then up days again before the next blast. That i was prepared for. But when I was told that I would lose every last strand of hair I actually thought I would be different. I was told that after my first chemo session my hair would start to go and be gone before the second session. It would start to go and within 24 hours would be gone. I thought no way, not a chance, not with my hair. How wrong I was. 😲

The first chemo was fairly ok. Sat in the chair, fed the poison and home. Had the good steroid infused days and then the low days hit. But I got through them, my hair seemed to be going nowhere and I prepared for the next blast. And then without warning at a night out with my husband and his soccer club, I put my hands through my hair and to my shock clumps of hair came away. Luckily we were outside at the time so I could hide this. I was mortified and upset but played along and enjoyed the night.

My decision was made, and two days later my wonderful neighbour ( jane), arrived as requested to do the head Shave. Jane was a hairdresser by trade, cancer had paid the visit to her family, but Jane had the humour and positivty to get this done and bring me through a fairly crap time.

And so we gathered. Suffice to say we were like shameless. 🙈 Out in the front garden. My husband, sisters, sister in law, brother in law, and Jane arriving up the drive with her box of tricks and a bottle of Pink Gin. 😀

I sat in my chair, my sister Clare held a tesco bag to collect my hair, my sister Elaine was constantly giving the thumbs up, the others were encouraging me all the time and my two georgous children were inside, scared to see their mam with the shaved head. We laughed, cried, talked rubbish and eventually it was done. My head was shaved with just little spikes remaining. I was now G. I Jane.

And guess what, I was ok with it. I didn’t look like the back of a bus, and after half a bottle of gin and myself and Jane solving the worlds problems until 3am the following morning, life actually seemed good. I could do this. I could do this.

Now It had kind of slipped my mind whilst enjoying the pink gin that I would be getting my bloods taken the next morning for my chemo on Wednesday. 🙊 Oops!!! So had the bloods taken and out to the chemo Ward on the Wednesday for chemo number two. Everything good. Back in the chair, arm ready for the struggle to find a vein in my arm ( great veins I have), and always anxious to get the blood results taken the day previously.

So when the nurse said to me that all my bloods were good, but that my liver was a tad off, and asked if I had had a few drinks the weekend, well then my brain died. My sister Elaine sat next to me, I looked at her, why I don’t know, I actually tumbled through a few sentences, I had no recollection of the pink gin in the panic and ended up saying that i might have had a drink at the weekend. Sweet jesus, sure I had the bloods taken within hours of the bottle of Pink Gin. Maybe it was better that I didn’t remember. 😉

And so it went. Chemo number two done and dusted. Home, steroids doing their job and then hoping that maybe you don’t get the big low again.

Chemo is different for everyone. We are all different, different bodies, different cells, different tolerance, different DNA. People will be so Happy to tell you that their mother, sister, brother, friend, friend of friend, auntie, all had chemo and flew through it. And that is wonderful, but if chemo is sucking the life from you it doesn’t matter what effect it has on anyone else. If you are the one lying in a bed, unable to even reach for your phone next to you, unable to walk to the kitchen for a glass of water, unable to go and watch tv, unable to go asleep, unable to go to the loo, unable to respond to the texts and calls from everyone wishing you well, if you are the one on the bathroom floor crying, with ulcers in your throat, nausea and to top it off haemorrhoids, then it does not matter how anyone else has faired through their chemo, you just want to beat yours.

And that is how I ended up looking into a mirror, at probably one of my lowest points. Yes believe it or not chemo after only a couple of times had taken its toll. I wasn’t feeling the up days coming so my sister and brother in law brought me to the hospital. Turned out that apart from the ulcers, haemorrhoids and nausea my bloods were critically low and admission was the only thing for me.

And then the fact that I had cancer hit me in the face, not that I had been in denial but when you are admitted to the oncology ward, christ, reality hits like a ton of bricks.

And that is where the stranger looked back at me from the mirror. This was not me, Sinead Whyte, well this was not the old me, but the new me, this was me from now on, Sinead Whyte, the same but different. Sinead Whyte, the girl in the mirror. The girl who I would need to get to know, to understand, to encourage, to like and to believe in. This was me.