Oh, how I do love surprises.

Dear Mr. Hodgkin's,

It's safe to say you have new surprises for me each week...how thoughtful.  I must say you are a very complex man with plenty of conniving tricks up your sleeve.  So grateful to be on the receiving end of your charities (I'll be sorely disappointed if you miss the heavy sarcasm).  The first curveball was twisting chemo's efforts to your advantage and lowering my white blood cell count so low that I should be in something called "reverse isolation."  I can see you find this very funny.  Well, sir, 80% of people do not deal with side-effects from WBC injections I've been subjected to.  But like I said before, my luck is not the greatest.  Not only did I have side-effects, but I had them so bad, tylenol was to no relief.  What was my reaction?  I dealt with something called "bone pain."

Sounds made-up, right?  Well, after experiencing such discomfort, it is very clear how real of a thing it actually is.  Care for some education in this correspondence, sir?  I learned that each injection stimulated my bone marrow to release more white blood cells.  In the process, my bone marrow freaked.  It sent shooting pains throughout my lower back; so much so, that it caused my body to twitch almost like a ripple effect all the way up to my shoulders.  Do you realize how scary that was?  I walked into my parents' house one night just bawling because, for the first time in my life, I could not control what my body was doing.  Man, am I glad that night is over.  Thankfully, the next day I went to my doctor to get my second shot for that week, and she assured me that side-effect lasts only for 24 hours and relieved me further by prescribing Vicodin.  With this lovely drug, my parents' gifting of a heating pad, and patience (which I do not necessarily have a lot of), that 24 hours came and went.  Just like everything else in this world, right?  There's a bit of free wisdom for you, sucka.

Because my WBC count is so low, my doctor (and my concerned nurse friends) have strongly advised me to wash my hands often, stay away from public places, and take care of my personal hygiene.  Okay, wash my hands: check.  Stay away from public places: not going to happen (StrengthsFinder says, as a Woo, it's engrained in my very being to surround myself with many people in a variety of places - including those that are public.  Sorry, I can't change how I'm wired).  And take care of my personal hygiene: this may be quite the challenge.  Let me enlighten you on my showering habits (my mom is going to be mortified... but my sister equally proud).  I'll be direct: I hate to shower.  It's nothing but a waste of time.  Sure, I do it (for the sake of others), but there are many a times I go without.  Let me share a story: 

When I played volleyball at Northwestern College, we would often travel on weekends to play at our competitors' universities.  I remember one weekend in particular where we had a game Friday night, then another Saturday morning, and a final match Saturday late afernoon.  After each game, our team would hit the showers... well, not every player.  Meaning, not myself.  After the Friday night game, I told my team, "Why shower tonight?  We'll just sweat again in the morning."  Many of them nodded in agreement with my logic (for some puzzling reason though, they still showered).  I would instead hop on the bus, pull out my iPod, and start doing my homework.  After the Saturday morning match, my team and then my coach prodded, "Heidi, don't you think you should probably shower now?"  But my logic still stands: why shower if I'm going to get sweaty in just a few hours?  After the last game, I'll admit, cold sweat was caked onto my skin, but that's nothing compared to the amount of homework I had already finished, and thus, the extra sleep I got that night!  Time well spent... obviously.  As my doctor would state, "The benefits far outweigh the risk."  Applicable here too, I'd say.

Going back, my last shot was Wednesday, and I've been prancing around like none other... but then, something delightful happened (surely you have picked up on my sarcastic humor by now).  I was brushing my hair after a shower (see, I still do it), and as I set my brush down on the vanity, I saw it had caught more red hair than normal.  Interesting...  I shrugged it off and went through with the rest of the day.  However, the next morning, I once again combed my hair, and to my dread, my brush was again filled with quite a few strands.  Things started to click and I realized what was happening.  Sure, I had heard of others undergoing chemo who have mourned the loss of their hair, but I had also heard of others testifying how this was not their case.  Us redheads are pretty resilient and stubborn, so I assumed I would be in the category of the latter.  Hmm, oops.  Sir, I know it's unnoticeable to others right now, but I also know it's just a matter of time.  Gulp. 

I can deal with the pain, but this?  This is a completely different beast, Mr. Hodgkin's.  This may be vain, but I'm just like any other 23-year-old girl (soon to be 24... March 15!) who values what her hair brings to the table.  I understand this is a temporary thing (my hair should grow back completely 6 months after treatment), but... eh.  You are a boy, so you probably won't understand, but I'll try to share what's so important about hair... my hair in particular:  1) I just care to look nice, sir.  2) It's fun for me to wear my hair in girlish braids when running to the nearest coffee shop or rocking a messy bun on the top of my head when I throw on the sweats at night.  3) Some peeps call me, "Red"...now that I think about it... it could be because of my skin tone.  Okay, if so, that's obnoxious.  4) And someday, I want to attract the right man who will be my husband (and I was sure the red hair would be the ticket).  5) Having hair is just plain normal.  I wish I could explain it better, but mister, I appreciate my hair and I'm sad at you for messing with it.  Upset at chemo for her plans to rid me of it. 

Before I sign off, I will have you know I woke up this morning just as displeased as ever.  The reality of this loss further sinking in.  So here is what I did: put my Kari Jobe album on shuffle, pulled out my Bible, and sought the Lord in this place I'm finding myself in.  Why, you ask?  Like Peter says in John 6, who else would I turn to?  For my God is the only One who has the words that give eternal life.  Psalm 68:19 tells me my Savior "daily bears my burdens."  So today, when I'm feeling so devastated by losing something that others may see as trivial, my God takes on that weight as if it was His own.  And that understanding, that compassion, my friend, is incomparable.  Plainly stated, He steadies my heart. 

It was here, in this encounter this morning, that He gently changed my focus through Kari's song called "We Are."  Let me share a few lines with you, sir:  "Every fear lives inside the dark, but that's not who we are: we are children of the day.  Wake up sleeper, lift your head.  We were meant for more than this: fight the shadows, conquer death, make the most of the time we have left."  This got my blood pumping as I was soon bouncing on my bed, bobbing my head in an emphatic yes, and grinning up at the sky to the One who has no problem shedding light into any shadow of darkness I find myself in.  My time here is precious and I hope to not waste it.  Sir, I'm still not excited about losing any bit of my hair, but I trust the One who has me in the palm of His hand and declares, "For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways.  As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts."  Got it.  I don't know what tomorrow's battles will be, but I don't have to... He knows, and even as my heart beats wildly, I choose to trust in His plan.  Bring it, sir.

Yours Truly,
Heid