Bride Two

Last time I wrote, it the story of two brides.  I liked one; I was complaining about the other.

Yesterday was the wedding of bride number two, and I have to say, I actually had quite a bit of fun.  I don't have a clue what the girls had or hadn't been told, but every single one of them was a blast.  As the outsider looking into their ring of friendship, it was easy to see that not only had they been together for quite some time, but that they cared deeply about each other.  Everyone was relaxed and nobody was uptight about anything.

Actually, they were thrilled with the results we delivered for hair, and I had a couple of ladies ask for my card for future reference.  One of the ladies, we'll call her Shar, was so excited about her hair she almost started crying.  She's got unusually thin hair, and in the past, almost every hairstylist has made it look like she's balding.  I put my best efforts forth to make sure she looked like she had gobs of hair, and was rewarded with a big hug and a smiling, super-giddy, newly-pregnant woman for the rest of the morning.

Smiling Shar!

The back of her undo that she was SO excited about.

The whole while I was doing everyone's hair, I couldn't believe that I had been so stuck on the prices.  I mean, yes, I have skill, but is it worth getting upset over a difference of $100?  No.  At least, it shouldn't be.  I feel ashamed I reacted the way I did.  The more I digest it, I think I was more shocked and surprised because it came up last minute.... I'd already had my mind set that things were going to go a certain way, blah, blah blah.  Apparently I don't deal well with last second changes.

The upside is, now I know this about myself, and next time it happens, I can just have a little pep talk with myself before letting it rock my boat.  Plus, now I know what changes I need to make to my system to make sure things like this don't happen again.

Everything turned out beautifully and I'm really happy that it ended up working for me to do their hair for the wedding.  Here's a few pictures!

I was in love with this girl's hair color!!

The little girl was adorable, giving the bride kisses, telling her she looked like Cinderella.

The bride, taking a break before the ceremony started.

Three of the bridesmaids and the bride.

What I'm "Worth"

I've had the chance to work with the Detroit Glam Squad as a hairstylist now for a few months.  I love it!!  The girls I work with are amazing artists in their own right, and it's a lot of fun to share a creative vision with someone and then execute it.

This past week I've had the opportunity to work with two brides.  And WOW--I don't think they could be any more different!!

The first bride was a joy!  She was a little indecisive at times, but whenever dealing with a bride, you expect that.  They want their big day to be perfect.  We had the opportunity to do hair and makeup for her, her mother, and her entire bridal party.  They were a blast!  Everyone was upbeat, positive, trying to make sure that everything went perfect for the bride, and extremely appreciative of our skills so that they too, could look awesome on the bride's big day.  I'd do these ladies again in a heartbeat!

Bride number two has been a different story.  She's been all but non-responsive until the last minute for absolutely everything.  I'd sent an email three days prior to confirm the trial date and didn't get a response until FOUR HOURS before the trial was supposed to happen.  Then, after the trial, there was a dispute about prices.  Mind you, I sent the bride a copy of our contract about three weeks in advance.  Over a month before that, I gave it to one of her bridesmaids, who was the original contact.

Apparently nobody read it.

We charge $65 for bridesmaids, $75 for the bride.  I did research before setting these prices because I wanted to be competitive and fair.  These costs match what people in this area pay to get their hair done in a salon--except if you hire us, we travel to you.

Turns out the bride was given slightly lower prices originally.  She'd been told $50 for bridesmaids, $65 for the bride.  No big deal, I can work with it.  Because she'd had my contract for about three weeks and didn't bring the discrepancies to my attention until the day of the trial, I did feel she was trying to bully me into lower prices, but I wasn't going to abandon her because of it.

It gets better...  Alongside both sets of the prices, we offered a 15% discount due to her party size.  Somehow, the math was done wrong and she'd told her bridesmaids we were charging $33 post-discount.

Let me see.... $50 x .85 = $42.50.

Maybe it was $50 x .15?  Nope.  That's $7.50

Did she do $50 - $15?  Hmm... still comes to $35....

Uhhhh........  I have no idea how it got to $33.

So now I've got a non-appreciative, cheap bride who wants me to work for LITERALLY half price because of her mathematical error.  I explained that I'd have to have her sign the contract at full price, because that's what we charge, but I would talk to the girl who originally gave her those prices and if there was a reason behind it, we might honor them.  She signed, wrote a check for the deposit, and I headed home.

When I called back later that day to explain the pricing options that I could let her pick from (NOT $33), she told me that she's not sure everyone is still going to want their hair done and that the number of people in the party may shrink due to the price.

Excuse me?  You JUST signed a contract.  Did you not read ANY of it?  There's a number of things that you should have paid attention to, but the biggest would be this one:

1. You are liable for the full amount on the contract, once signed.  (The only time this would be swayed is if we feel we've messed something up and want to make amends by lowering prices.  I was clear in saying that we MIGHT lower them.  Not that we would.)

Did I mention that this is a party of 11, and that both myself and the assistant I've hired are taking a Saturday off at Nordstrom (which is frowned on because it's retail) to do this wedding?  Did I mention that I'm paying the assistant?  Did I mention it's 45 minutes away?  Did I mention the bride's disorganization/non-responsiveness has been a pain in the butt?  Did I mention she wants me to stay for an additional two hours so that I can give her a second undo before the reception? (Which I had agreed to do for free before the price conversation came about)

I'm frustrated and I feel bad that she's gotten herself in this predicament, but I'm pretty sure it's not my fault.

Doing the Side Stroke Upriver

We are so boring.

Seriously.

Brother Isaac always used to make fun of me for it and I would just laugh, but now, it's getting serious.  Or, rather, more serious.  Basically, I work.  And basically, Isaac Jordan studies.  And eats Skittles from the five pound bag that Mom sent him...

My non-salon job is going better.  I don't feel that I'm probably the best sales person on the planet, but I do what they ask of me at 200% effort so nobody can say I don't try.  The biggest thing that amuses me about my job is the type of expectations people can place on a facial cream.  I was on the phone the other day with a lady for over an hour and a half discussing which skincare regimen would benefit her the most.  She wanted hydrating, lifting, tightening, firming, wrinkle-fixing, de-puffing, pore-shrinking, acne-curing, dark-circle-ridding magic.  I ended up telling her that if things are really headed that far south, the best product would probably be a face lift.  Creams and serums can only do so much.

Things are going along pretty well at Ken Paves Salon too.  We're having an event on Sunday, April 1st to raise money for the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society.  I figured since so many people went out of their way to help us when we needed it, the very least I can do is donate what I can and encourage others to do the same.  The relief that we felt once the financial burden lift during chemo was immense.  I didn't even realize how heavy it was until afterward.

Here's a flyer for the event, in case you hadn't seen it yet:

Mom and Jessica will be coming up for it, which will be really sweet.  They're going to be our greeters, welcoming people in with warmness and smiles and asking how they've become connected to the event.  We hope to do lots of makeovers for women who are currently in treatment or who have recently finished treatment.  There is something therapeutic about putting your makeup on every morning.  Especially after chemo.  It's kind of... stabilizing.  If that makes sense.  Like.... even though everything else in your world has been shaken, at least you can still take a shower and put your makeup on.

We'll also have wigs for women who have gone through treatment and lost their hair.  Ken was super sweet and has not only offered the wigs, but has given us full and complete support, which is awesome.  We're hoping to be able to raise over $5,000, and honestly, I'd be thrilled if we could hit $10,000.

I would probably cry.

Anyway... I've got to sign off for the night... I open tomorrow morning and I need to be rested so I can put 200% in all day again tomorrow!

Enjoy your life.  Every day is faster than the next and at some point, you run out of days.

C'est La Vie.

Work, work, work.  That's what this past week has been.

The funnier part is that the amount of work I did wasn't even really that much.  I used to put in anywhere between a 40-60 hour week without thinking about it, but this week 30 was pushing my limits.

I know I'm going to get a lecture from my "cancer moms" telling me that I shouldn't try to push too hard, too fast.  But believe me, I've already picked up on that.  When I'm tired after working for only 7 or 8 hours, I have no other option than to believe it's a residual effect from the chemo and radiation.  'Cause normally, that'd be no problem.

Some women I've talked to told me it might take up to a year for me to get "back to normal." Whatever that may be.

For now, though, I find myself yawning at 8pm.  Granted, I rarely go to bed that early because there is still a part of me that feels like coping out that early is just wussy.  And I don't like to be a wuss.

The plan for today is to make it out to either Lakeside Mall or The Somerset Collection to hand out my cards and strike up deals with the pretty faces behind the counters so that I can get my name out there.

I was talking with one of the girls that I work with last night and asked if she wanted to go with to hand out cards at Somerset soon and I'm not sure I understood her response.  It seemed she was worried that we would be stepping on someone else's turf or that maybe we were inferior to the resident mall salon.  I was confused.  Actually, I still am.

Either way, I'm not worried about it.  If their work is better than mine, it will show and their clients will stay.  However, if it's not...  well, that's how the game goes.  I won't badmouth another stylist or salon to gain their clientele, but I'm not going to sit back and just hope people appear in my chair, either.  I'm going to get my hustle on and let people know that if they'd like, I'm here: talented, able, and willing. (And in a lot of cases, more budget friendly, too!)

The ubiquitous "they" say that if you gain about 50 clients in a year, probably expect to lose about 10-20% of them in that same year.  Some people just like to jump around, while others die, move, go off to college, etc...  Regardless, your client's lives are not static, so they won't be either.

Anyway, that's enough of that.

Isaac has been studying like a madman, making sure that he's ready for everything that his Cardiology class can throw at him.  He's definitely a little bit stressed, but I suppose a little fire under everyone's behind does some good.

I've been getting little love-notes from him recently, which I adore.  Maybe it has to do with the fact that I'm working a little bit now.  Or maybe it's because I've been conscious for a couple of consecutive months instead of doped up on the chemo drugs.  Whatever the cause is, I'm a fan.

I've been enjoying my time at Nordstrom so far too.  It's a very interesting place.

Dad got home from Africa today!!  I haven't talked to him yet because I think everyone is together hanging out, talking about how the trip was over lunch and stuff, but I'm hoping that I'll be able to chat with him soon.

It's weird, not being home in Iowa for his homecoming.  I can picture in my head what's probably gone on and I can remember what the emotional atmosphere was last time he got home, but it stinks, not being able to be there and share it with them.

I've been having weird dreams, too.  Really weird, and REALLY vivid.  Almost every night.  Even weirder, Jessica and I both dreamt that I was pregnant a couple of nights ago.  Glory, I hope not.  I know, I know, His timing is perfect.  I have complete trust in that; I just would be extremely curious how it would work with our present life situation.

C'est la vie.

Business, Business

I had my PET/CT scan this morning.  I think it went pretty well.  The biggest upside to the immediate experience is that I only had to get poked with a needle once!  Hallelujah!

Tonight Kim and I are going to pretend that we're really fancy folk and go to an event that is being held at Partridge Creek at J. Barbaro Clothiers.  It's a high-class (or at least, high-income) men's store that sells pretty nice ties, shirts, suits, etc. for a pretty penny.  Isaac and I happened to wander in there last Sunday after church while we were mall-walking because he was hoping to get ideas for clothes for when he has to start dressing up for clinical rotations come this next school year.

It was a little bit comical, in my opinion.  Neither one of us were dressed nice, my hair looked all crazy, and Isaac is in dire need of a cut himself.  The sweet lady at the counter either must have been blind and didn't realize that "no, we can't pay $125 for a tie," or she did a killer job at following that rule of business which states that you should never assume your client's income or spending habits.  Either way, she was leading us all around the showroom putting together combinations of shirts, ties, and jackets in hopes that I would "get ideas" for Isaac for Christmas.

As we were heading out the door, she stopped us at the counter and invited me to attend a ladies' night later on in the week.  I'm not exactly sure what those events look like, but she led me to believe that it will be cocktails and snacks of some type.

We left and as we neared the car, I told Isaac that I was considering going to the event, simply because it would be a good networking opportunity where I might get the chance to hand out my card.  Plus, I'm assuming that if the women attending this event are going to pay $125 for a tie and upwards of $195 for a button-down shirt, they're probably not going to be all that opposed to investing some good money in their hair.  We'll see.

I had to create a new temporary business card (partially for this event, partially for my own sanity) as well because the one I was handing out didn't quite portray what it is that I do.  To me, a business card is something that, if executed well, will draw in new clients to you almost on its own.  Here's what I ended up doing:

Back side of original card

Front side of original card

New card front, back is empty

I got some tips from a friend on how to hand my card out in a non-tacky way as well.  I've never really had to hand a card out to someone I don't know, aside from college students, who are generally very un-scary, and so I'm a little nervous.  Plus, I'm not sure if there are business card hand-out faux-pas...

Anyway, Kim and I will be attending tonight and I'm sure I'll have some interesting stories about our experience.

And in even cooler news: I get my port out on Monday.  I'm super psyched!!  YES!!

What Do YOU Think?

Hello friends!!

Today's blog is to ask you to please participate in a poll.  I am considering buying a domain name and starting up a website that advertises my skills as a hairstylist--primarily, a stylist that travels to brides.

However, before I buy a name, I want to make sure that it fits three criteria:

1. It flows off the tongue smoothly
2. You have a hard time forgetting it
3. It's easy to spell

Go ahead and cast your vote!  The poll is located in the upper right-hand corner of my blog and will be up until November 6th.

P.S. If you could pass this along to your friends, post it on your Facebook, or re-Tweet it, I would appreciate it a TON!  The more people participate, the better feedback I get--which hopefully translates to a good business decision.

THANK YOU!!

P90X

Numbers, schmumbers.... right?  Wrong.

Especially when everyone and their dog tells you going into chemo that you'll "probably lose some weight", "try to keep the food down", "your appetite will decrease..." etc.

Just like how they say your hair will all fall out.

I guess I'm just a backwards case of Hodgkin's because I've piled on over 15 lbs during chemo and still have probably around half of my hair.

I'm not complaining about my hair, this is more the story that I'll be sharing with you of how I am going to try to lose those 15 lbs that latched onto me like a fat kid onto free strawberry-glaze waffles.

I had chemo again a couple days ago--Wednesday-to be specific, and have been sleeping ever since.  I woke up this morning feeling pretty good.  Pretty fat, but pretty good.  So I decided, what the heck?  Why wait to work on these pesky pounds?  I have to wait for everything else throughout this darn chemo process.  I'm not going to wait to work on my mid-section.

If only it were as simple as that.

I popped in the P90X DVD and started off with the first workouts.  Pushups, after pushups, after pushups...  And this dang thing is an HOUR long!  Of course, he's got this cute little Russian chick in the video.  You know her.... the one, who, as he goes around the room asking who will do how many reps, she outdoes everyone by one.  Yep.  I've been that chick, so I think, okay... I'm still doing chemo... I can probably do about 75% of what she's doing.

WRONG.

Twenty minutes into the program and I'm laying face down on the floor, my butt straight up, gasping for air, and silently cursing Mr. Peppy-Man on my screen.  I was seeing stars, holding down my dinner from last night.... ugh... it was all there...

"....c'mon you can do one more... look at me!  I set my goal at fifteen, but I'm going to PUSH through it and do twenty instead..."

So I manned-up for the next twenty minutes and was surviving alright, until he explained that everything we'd just done--we're going to do it again.  Kill me.

Meanwhile, miss cool chick is still pounding it out, looking nice and sweaty and I swear I can SEE the pounds just sliding from her skin.  Meanwhile I'm sprawled out all over the floor as my husband walks in the door, turning his head quickly so I can't see him smiling.

I saw it.

To sum it up.  I am NOT in as good of physical shape as I was when I left Ames five months ago.  I'm unfortunately not even about half.

When I'd finished my workout, I went and soaked in the ice cold tub, garbage can beside me (just in case), and my dear husband mixed me up a protein shake to drink in the tub while I shed some tears, mourning my current psychical state.

The best words he could have said came out of his mouth while I was feeling defeated and trying to hold the puke back.... "babe, I still think you're sexy."

The tears came a little bit quicker then.  There's something about looking and feeling your absolute worst and having your spouse look at you and say, "Hey, it's okay... I still love you just how you are."

So the gist of the post is this: losing weight is hard, P90X is my poison of choice, and I WILL be twenty pounds lighter by Thanksgiving.  Or at the very worse, by Christmas.  And I'll have my handsome strong husband to prod me along at some times, and other times, drop me a protein shake while I'm bawling in the bathtub.  Oh, how I love him!

So, Yeah.

Hello, Iowa!  I'm coming back!  (Yes, again.)

I have a good reason this time, too.  Not that I need to create a reason to go to my Iowa home.  When all else fails, I can use cancer as the reason.  Just another upside to it, I guess.

However.  This time, I am coming back for A HAIR SHOW!!!  Wahoo!!

Having not been able to consistently do hair for the past five months has made me a little bit nervous that I'm losing my touch, but I'm doing everything (aka, looking at lots of pictures and asking myself how I would get that result) in my power not to become a dummy.  Thankfully I've been allowed to do a couple of Isaac's peers and it's been keeping me on my toes.

I spent three hours today driving to get my hands on Keune color.  Ridiculous.

Oh, and for those of you out there who care, Salon Centric does NOT carry all of the same brands from state to state.  For instance, in Iowa, they carry Schwarzkopf, which is comparable to Keune.  Well guess what?  In Michigan, there is only ONE store in the ENTIRE STATE that carries it.

And it's an hour and a half away with traffic.

Ten minutes away from the place that carries Keune.

Shoot me.

I bought a variety of colors today so that the next time I need color, I don't have to drive halfway back to Iowa to get it.

Anyway, the gist of this post is that I'm super excited to:
  a) come back to Iowa again, as I'm desperately lonely out here
  b) go to a hair show

By the way, if you're wondering what you might be able to pray for, pray for me and depression.  Once upon a time, I had a conversation with my best friend, who I emphatically told that "I don't believe in depression," only to find out that he had struggled with it for years seconds later.

And, once again, I find myself wanting to go back in time and insert my foot in my mouth during that conversation.  I think it's real, and I think I'm dealing with it.

There's something wrong when you're driving down the highway, contemplating whether you want to go home to endure another day or try to get hit by a semi.  It's just not "normal."  Or maybe it is and I've just never experienced it until now.  Either way, I need to figure out what to do with it.  It's not a consistent thing, but it does come and go rather frequently the longer I'm out here.

And obviously, since I've never dealt with this before, I'm just mentioning it rather casually because I'm not sure what to do with it.  Don't mistake that for sarcasm.

And yes, a lot of you close to me will be surprised to read this, because I haven't mentioned it at all, save to one person.

Again, I'm just not sure what to do with it.  Do I mention it?  Do I not?  No clue.  I'm a little nervous to post this, just because I'm not sure what the response will be from certain people who I care about.

The blog is supposed to help me be transparent, to share my thoughts that I either can't, or don't want to verbalize.  So there it is.

In the meantime, I'm just hanging out.

Our Investment

About a week ago, I got to do hair for one of the girls that Isaac goes to school with.  Her name was Amy, and we did a full hilight/lowlight with a cut as well.  I had an absolute blast doing it--especially since I haven't been able to do much hair for the last four months or so--but one thing that kept bugging me was that the chair I had her sit in didn't go up and down like my old Salon 101 chair.  I don't know if she noticed or not, but I kept bringing my foot up to "pump her up" so that she would be at a more comfortable height.

Later on, while I was talking with Isaac about it, I happened to mention my awkward habit to him and he asked how much salon chairs run for, generally speaking.  I responded that I wasn't absolutely positive, but I the ones I had seen were usually under $200.  To my surprise, he told me that maybe I should look into purchasing one for when I do hair for people out of the house.  It would be an investment that would probably pay for itself in a pretty short amount of time.

Needless to say, I jumped on the internet right away to start checking out chair prices.  $150.  $160.  $175.  $190.  Wow.  Okay, that's a little higher than I thought.  It was still under $200 though.

Until I added in the cost for shipping.

On average, it cost about $50 to ship a chair.  Ouch!  I kept looking and looking, browsing, and searching.  Finally I decided to check Sally's to see if they had anything decent.  I mean, really, this chair didn't need to be anything fantastic, just your basic styling chair that could go up and down.  There were two pages of chairs to look at.

The second page was where my little miracle was.  There, halfway down the page on the left-handed side was a Pibbs Basic Styling Chair.  And the price?  $70.  BAM!  I started oohing and ahhing and Isaac asked what I'd found.  I told him that I had to research a little bit, but I think I had just found my chair.  When I told him about the price, he was a teensy bit skeptical--simply because it was about half the price of all the others I had looked at.  Even the ones on Ebay!

I told him I thought it was probably just a model that they discontinued and were trying to get rid of.  But I researched anyway.

First, I checked the dimensions... maybe it was a kid's chair or something.  Nope.  It was about the same as the chair I used to use at Salon 101.  Just a half inch smaller.  Then I checked the hydraulics.  Those were the same too.  And the warranty?  One year for the chair, five for the hydraulics.  Works for me!  Last, I checked out the brand.  They seemed to check out fine as well.

Hmm.  Well... why not?

I talked with Isaac about it one more time, relaying all my findings to him, and then we decided to purchase it. I filled out the mailing and billing information and hit "purchase."

And then I started to squeal.

Isaac turned and looked at me.  "Babe, what are you doing," he asked.
"I'm just so nervous!!!  I've never bought a chair before!  But we just got it!"
He did his little laugh thing that he does and went on with his business.

I just kept staring at the chair.  Hopefully it wasn't a defective one or something.  At least if it was, we could return it.  But then we'd have to find a new one and the chances that we'd find something so cheap twice.... well, not very likely.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

A couple days ago, Isaac had to head out to the bank to deposit a check, get some gas, and make some copies of some medical school-related things at the school.  I was busy making some potstickers in the kitchen (click on THIS for a link to the recipe.. they were DELISH!) when he came up with a hydraulic pump.

I'm sure I looked like my eyes were going to pop out of my head.  "THE CHAIR IS HERE????!!!" I screamed.  He smiled.  "Yep."

As soon as he set it on the ground I was staring at it.  Just looking at it, probably similar to a mothers who just gave birth to their first child.  I loved it already.  Probably because it was ours.  Not that Isaac would be using it much, though.  So I guess, really, it was mine.  My own beautiful, simple, styling chair.

Snapping out of my trance, I had to run to the kitchen because I was frying the potstickers and I realized they were probably burning to the pan.  

Minutes later the chair half of it arrived on my husband's shoulders as well.  Can I get a hallelujah?  Yes, please!  I was immediately down on the ground, finding the parts to put the footrest on the chair.  For a moment, I thought they had forgotten to send me the screws.  Then I saw them taped to the metal frame.  About five minutes later it was assembled.

My baby.

She doesn't have a name yet, but I'll think of one.  It has to be special, because a name is forever.  Even for a styling chair.  I'm entertaining Seana.  It's a Gaelic name that means "gift from God."  And she really was, too!  The day she arrived (after I'd made sure she wasn't defective and all that) I went to go message Lindsey and Meg about it.  I was going to include the link directly to the Sally's page where I bought it from, in case they wanted one too, but it was gone.  Literally.  There was nothing there.

Isaac, modeling the chair this morning for me.

Apparently it was God's will that we be able to purchase a cheap, functional styling chair.  And I am SO thankful!  Now, to put it to good use!

Thank You Seems So Small...

I think it's more than fair to say that I have undervalued many people in my life over the years.  Although it's somewhat cliche to say that something like cancer makes you think about what is really valuable, its very true.

It's really hard to put into words what kind of shift has happened in my mind over the past few months.  My schedule used to be so jammed packed of "stuff" that I had to do that I didn't have very much time for the people in my life.  Granted, some of this "stuff" might have had value, but for the most part it was relatively worthless.

Today I got to spend some precious time with one of my closest friends, Meg.  Her and her husband, Nate, traveled a few HOURS out of their way to visit us on their trek from Philly to Iowa.  That in itself is touching to me because honestly, months back, I'm not sure I would have done the same.  I would have justified it to myself by reminding myself how "busy" I was and how much I "had to get done."

What a bunch of bull.  I have really been a miserable friend to a lot of people.

On top of driving out of their way, Meg had a gift for me when she got here.  Some time after my diagnosis she had started a group on Facebook to raise money for a wig for me.  Alongside the money were letters from people I love.  Some were short, others were long.  Each one was like a hug from home.

This is the second gift that we've received like this.  Unexpected.  Gracious.  Heartfelt.

The other was from my cousins--Cody and Cortney.  This was their first year of having a charity fundraiser for Cody's birthday and after hearing my diagnosis, decided they money raised would go to us so we could still have a mini-honeymoon somewhere close to home--and the hospitals.  Because Isaac had to be back for school immediately after the wedding, we'd been planning on going somewhere in August... but after finding out I had cancer, we postponed everything.

It could have been five dollars and I still would have bawled.

As it is, I'm still much too... too something (I don't know what)... to let people to see me cry and so both times, I waited until I was alone to do it.  I don't know, maybe it helps me pretend that things are better than they are... I really don't know.  It's hard to understand your own mind sometimes.

Anyway, my mascara is all over my face and my tears are finally slowing down and I want you to know the purpose of today's post is just to say thank you.

Thank you for loving us.  Thank you for seeing us through compassionate eyes, supporting us, praying for us, hugging us, and just being there for us.  Thank you for saying something, even if you don't feel it's adequate and for listening (or pretending) when you don't feel you have the time.

The word "grateful" really does a measly job at describing the emotional aspect of what I'm feeling right now.  Just know we are thankful.

Birthing Pains & Family Love

Last week Isaac and I were looking at the calendar to figure out when I would be able to go home and shave my head.  We ended up with a couple options: either this past weekend, or the weekend of the 4th of July.  If we chose this past weekend, I would have to go by myself, but I'd have the opportunity to be there from Friday night til Tuesday morning.  If we did the 4th of July, we'd get to go together, but we'd only be there from mid-day Saturday until mid-day Sunday, plus there would be the chance that my hair would already be falling out because chemotherapy starts June 29th.  We talked about it quite a bit on Thursday, but still hadn't arrived at any conclusions.

So I thought.

Then, Friday when he got home from class around 2:30, he asked why I was still there.  I nearly quit breathing for a minute.  I wanted to go home so badly, but I trust that the pain of being separated from my Iowa family will benefit our marriage and so I wasn't going to push too hard.  I asked if he was joking or serious and when he said he was serious, I slowly started to pack, trying not to show how excited I was.

He noticed.

Next think I know, I'm hearing, "Hey, babe.  It's okay for you to be excited to go home."  I have the best, most observant husband ever.  I probably smiled the size of Texas and started running around frantically, grabbing this and that until I thought I had everything I might need for a weekend stay in Iowa.  I was packed in 15 minutes.  My poor husband.  I noticed that he looked a little hurt that I was in such a hurry to leave so I stopped what I was doing and sat on his lap and asked if his feelings were hurt.  They were.  Bummer.  I told him I hadn't meant to do that.  Thankfully, it was more a miscommunication than anything.  He thought I was excited to leave him.  I carefully explained that I love him very much, but I was just excited that I was able to go home (possibly one last time) before I was done with chemotherapy.  Once we got that sorted out, I hit the road.

Driving there was actually pretty quick.  At least, it felt like it.  In reality, it took a little over 10 hours.  I pulled in around 1:30am Saturday morning and lo and behold, Mom was still up.  She came running outside in her pajamas and helped me get my things in and upstairs to my brother's old room.  We talked for a little bit and by 2:30am, I had fallen asleep mid-conversation in a chair in living room.  After waking me up, we both went upstairs and went to bed.

Saturday morning I was hanging out on the couch and Court came downstairs.  She was shocked and then a little annoyed because nobody told her I was coming.  Mom and I then went into the salon and we cut my hair off. I had a good time surprising Jess too!  She screamed, cried, and jumped into the wall because she was so shocked.  Gotta love her.  I was a little nervous, so I asked Erin to cut it a little longer than I should have.  We then lightened it a little bit because it looked like I was wearing a helmet (in my opinion).  Afterward, Mom and I made a trip to Des Moines because I needed some facewash and she wanted something to hold her over between colors.  On our way back home, we stopped by to surprise Ike.  I think we succeeded.

Once home, I decided to lighten my brows because they didn't match my hair and shorten my hair a little bit more.  Mom and I used Dad's clippers and took about another 1/4" off.  I liked it better.  Then we went to meet up with Jess for a late lunch at Chinese Homestyle.  If you've never been there and you love Chinese and live in Ames, you're completely missing out.  It is wicked good stuff!  Then, we needed dessert so we headed over to Chocolaterie Stam and got some gelato and chocolate truffles filled with creme fraiche.  SOOOO GOOOODDDD!!!!!  We ran into an old family friend and got caught up with him.  He also gave me the name of a woman he'd met through rotary who had/has breast cancer.  She apparently loves to talk with people about her experience and he was able to give me her name and email.  I love running into people I know.

Sunday morning rolled around and we went to the 9am at Cornerstone.  It was like walking into a big giant hug from a long-lost friend.  I got a million hugs and got to see many good friends and met some new ones.  However, after celebrating Dad with my Iowa family and Jess, I started to feel a little bit under the weather.  I thought I was getting a fever--and what better cure than sleeping in the sun?  We headed out to the pool and got there around 4 for a couple hours of nice sun sleeping.

When we got home, I didn't feel any worse or better, but I was awfully cold for feeling so hot.  Mom whipped out the thermometer and took my temp: 99 degrees.  So it was a little higher than normal... I could easily sleep that off.  By 9pm though, I wasn't thinking sleep would be enough.  Mom called Isaac, who recommended I use Zicam every 3 hours throughout the night and go to the doctor if my temperature went above 101.  I set my alarm for every 3 hours and took my temp every time I woke up to take another pill.  At 4am, it was at 100.4; at 5:30, it hit 100.7 degrees.  Mom thought that was close enough to 101 degrees to qualify for a visit to the doctor.

We called my oncologist to see what he thought, as well as the surgeon who was going to put my Mediport in later in the week.  Both of them recommended waiting a little bit longer, as fevers often peak and then fall.  Turns out they knew what they were talking about.  I never hit the magical 101 degrees.  At 10am, my temp had dropped to around 96 degrees.  I was feeling pretty good and wanted to go visit some of my friends, but my husband strongly advised against it--especially since 2 of the people I wanted to visit had little ones who I would feel awful if I got sick.

Thankfully, one of my life-long angels, Lydia, offered to come over and hang out with me on Monday.  I encouraged her to take some Vitamin C before coming, but I don't think it worried her all that much.  We chatted for a bit, went to grab some food at Thai Kitchen (my first time EVER there) and then she came to the doctor with me as well. Oh--about the doctor...  After we got back from eating, my temperature had started to go up again (though only to 99) and Mom insisted I go see a family practice doctor.  They did some bloodwork and my white blood cell count was up, indicating my body was trying to fight something off, although we couldn't see it.  The doc perscribed 1000mg of antibiotics twice a day to help fight off anything bacterial.  Anyway, Lydia was sweet enough to stick around while I took a nap.  It was nice just to have her there with me, even though I didn't feel too great.

She had to leave for connection group eventually, and Mom and I went to the mall because we'd been there earlier in the week and bought some clothes.  It just so happened that AFTER we bought them, we found coupons and felt the need to go and return and re-purchase everything so we could use the coupons.  Later on that night, I started to get a sore neck.  I thought it was probably from the pillow that Mom had on my bed.  I'd describe it as more aesthetic than functional... it was about 7" thick and only smooshed down to maybe 3".  I normally sleep on one that only starts out at about 3" thick.  Needless to say, it didn't surprise me that I was developing a stiff neck.  I slept on a hot pad for a couple hours and then it was completely gone.

Once again, I felt pretty good in the morning, so I set out for home with confidence.  A couple hours down the road, my sore throat had moved up into my ears and felt like an ear infection.  My sore throat had also gotten worse--to the point I was breathing shallow and avoiding swallowing unless it was an absolute must.  I'm not sure if I had a fever or not because although I do carry a utility knife in my car, I don't carry a thermometer.  In addition, I started to show symptoms of wry neck--a condition I've had once before where your neck slowly stiffens to the point where you can't turn it at all and any movement (including bumps in the road) send flares of extreme pain throughout your neck region and down your spinal cord.  The only thing you can do about it is to use a heating pad on it and try to stretch your neck muscles out as often as you can.  Last time it happened I missed my brother's high school graduation and open house because I couldn't move.

Anyway, all of this was just getting worse and worse and on top if it, I started crying because I was so uncomfortable, I missed my husband, and I missed my Iowa family--even though I just left them.  I called my husband and he instructed me to stop at the nearest Wal-Mart and grab some Gatorade, Chloroseptic lozenges to numb my throat, and Ibuprofin for my neck and headache.  I accidentally hit a van with my car door when I was leaving but I was so miserable I didn't leave a note.  Thankfully, the Ibuprofin kicked in pretty quickly and took my headache away and reduced the swelling in my neck.  I read the directions on the lozenges and it said for adults to take 1 every 2 hours.  I decided that between 3-4 every hour would be better.  I honestly don't think that 1 every 2 hours would have done ANYTHING.  As it was, they only numbed my throat when I was sucking on them and the effects weren't cumulative by any means, so I just kept popping them in.

By the time I was 2 hours from home I felt like I would rather die than keep driving.  But I was sooo close.  I dug my stubborn feet in and drove 3 miles over the speed limit the rest of the way--while it was downpouring.  Looking back, that might not have been the safest thing to do, but it felt right at the moment.  I was planning on surprising Isaac so I hadn't told him how close I was for a couple hours.  Plus, I didn't want to worry him with how I was feeling.  The plan was to get home and carry what I could of my stuff up to the apartment and getting the rest later.  However, I'm married to superman, so before I even had shut the car off, he was running out of the apartment in the rain to help carry my things in.

So much for surprising him.  Instead, I was the one being surprised.  Later, he informed me that both him and Mom had been tracking me via an app on my phone.  Dumb technology ruined my surprise, but I was so thankful that he was there.  It was a HUGE relief.

Then began the worst night I've had in a long while.

I had arrived around 10:30pm.  Isaac made me eat a whole bowl of Campbell's Chunky Chicken Noodle soup with extra salt and a large glass of grape Kool-Aid.  We talked for a bit and then I took a really hot shower and went to bed.  Or, maybe I should say I tried.

From midnight til 3am I was up on and off, trying to get comfortable with my various ailments.  I slept pretty soundly from 3-5 and then woke up to an extremely painful right ear.  My left ear felt fantastic, but my right... it was a completely different story.  It felt like it was super hot and swelling shut.  We weren't supposed to be at the doctor until 7am, so I decided to read my Bible and get on the computer until Isaac's alarm went off at 6:10am.  He hasn't been sleeping very well himself and didn't even come to bed until around 3.  And since I was in such pain, I figured Job was a good place to start.  If there was anyone who should be able to relate to suffering, it'd be him.  Of course, one of he first things I read is a verse that said, "Shall we accept good from God and not trouble?"  I took that as a sign to endure the pain.  It was the worst I thought I'd ever felt in my ear--ever.  At 6am, I decided it was time to take my pre-surgery shower.

BAD.  IDEA.

A few seconds after stepping under the beautiful, hot stream of water, my ear popped.  Not a small pop either.  It hurt so badly I stifled a scream and started to involuntarily cry.  I was so shocked I threw myself into the shower wall and grabbed at my ear.  Thankfully, after a split second of that, the pain went away and I was praising God it was over.

Turns out it wasn't.

About fifteen seconds after the initial pop, another one happened and I reacted the same way.  And then another and another and another.  By about the fifth time, I accidentally let the scream out and woke Isaac, who came bleary-eyed into the bathroom to see what was going on.  My poor, sweet, sensitive husband....

He was trying to comfort me and ask what was wrong but I was in so much pain I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs at him as he was telling me to calm down.  I felt like there was a knife being plunged into my eardrum again and again and again.  I wanted to punch something, transfer the pain to someone or something else.  I knew he was trying to help me though, so I refrained.  I would have felt awful if I had.  He helped me get out of the shower and dry off and after witnessing another episode, decided we needed to leave for the hospital--NOW.  As I tried to put clothes on, I wasn't sure if I was going to either faint or throw up from the pain.  Thankfully neither happened.

Upon arriving, the receptionist got my information quickly and directed me upstairs to the outpatient surgery ward.  The sweet lady checked us in and then asked if we knew we were there over an hour early.  Isaac told her what was going on and she immediately went to fetch a nurse.  By this time, it had been about 20 minutes since I'd had a "pop" and I thought they might be over.  The nurse came out and asked what was wrong and I told her as best I could, but I got the feeling she wasn't really understanding.  She took me back to a room and told me to pee in a cup and then change into my surgery gown.  I had visits from her, the IV tech, my doctor, an ENT doctor, and the anesthesiologist.  I was getting frustrated and feeling ignored because although I'd been seen by several people, nobody seemed to understand that when I said I was in pain, I didn't mean the type of pain you get when you stub your toe.  I meant the type of pain that feels like I'm birthing a premature child through my eardrum.  Like I'm being stabbed.

Somewhere along the line, my ear acted up again and thankfully, the nurse was present to witness what happened.  She had been sharing a sympathy story that was actually quite irritating, telling me in an "I know what you're talking about" voice that once upon a time her ears had bubbled too and because it had been chronic, she now had tubes in for the next 5 years.  I had just started to tell her that this was WAY beyond bubbling when it popped.  I guess seeing is believing.  She immediately stopped what she was doing and said she'd be right back; they were going to knock me out.

Thank you, Jesus.


They started my IV and minutes later I was out cold.  They woke me up just in time to knock me out again for the Mediport placement surgery.  I really don't remember much of anything after that first round of stuff to put me out though.  When I started to wake up after surgery, they moved me to an upright chair, covered me in blankets, and offered me juice and painkillers.  I was starving and my stomach hurt, (from my starvation, I thought) and so I took the juice down pretty quickly.  Not too long after, the nurse came over to take my IV out and then started to help me stand so I could head home.

I told her I thought I was going to puke on her.  Poor lady... she explained to me that they would need to start another IV and feed me sugar water through it as well as give me a couple of injections of anti-nausea medicine.  Bring it on.  I felt so nasty that another poke actually sounded good.  Unfortunately, I ended up puking anyway.  But I felt SOOOO much better afterward.  After I'd taken in most of the sugar water, they asked how I was feeling and then took my second IV out.  I changed back into my clothes and then they wheeled me out to the curb, where Isaac picked me up.

We got home and I fell asleep for a little bit.  At 2:30pm, Mom called to check on me and make sure I'd taken my drugs because at some point while I was asleep, my husband had to leave for some school stuff and he'd called her to ask her to check in.  He also asked one of his classmates, Jenna, to stop by and check on me as well.  She was sweet and brought me water and saltines.  We talked for a couple hours and then I started feeling drowsy again.  She left and I fell asleep and woke up only when my alarm went off to take my next dose of meds.  And that is how the rest of the night has went.

Sleep.  Drugs.  Saltines.  Ginger Ale.  Sleep.  Drugs.  Iron Chef.  Sleep.  Call Mom.  Chicken Noodle Soup. Brother Ike called.  Blog... and now I'm going to sleep again.

Talk to you later, loved ones.