Barbie No More

They say that ovarian cancer causes your tummy to protrude a little. 
On hearing this, many 50-year-old women will accept it as fact, ambiguously nodding while thinking, "and here I thought it was the Haagen Daz."  But their confusion continues wordlessly as they then remember how they've actually been trying to drop the same tummy-padding since 1992.  Maybe I won't mention that. . .
Perhaps this is why they call it a Silent Cancer. 

In February 2014 the biopsy of one of the new little lumps on my ribcage tested positive for ovarian cancer. "If you weren't so thin," said my NP, "you might not have noticed them."
I was 49, 6-foot-1, and fit nicely into my Gap long-and-lean, extra-tall jeans. Long brown hair with a sprinkling of grey, which I figured I had earned (from kids).

I was never super-pretty, but was often attractive enough.  

  "Attractive" sits a little differently after a colostomy. I had to work around any pieces of clothing that did not involve firm waists. No more jeans for the rest of my life. So I went shopping and developed a whole new style for myself.
I chose leggings. Long swing tops. Flip-top (stretchy-waist) skirts. Dresses that start swinging from the collar down. Big Earrings to combat chemo-hair. I brought in new colors, added all kinds of accessories, and had some fun.  And my wig. . . was just the same as my pre-cancer hair, but as if I had highlights and had actually blow-dried it the way I was supposed to.

Every visit to the cancer center was a flashy new fun outfit, and "Chemo Barbie" was born. 
My oncology team heard that new name for me, and loved it and ran with it.

Most cancer does NOT include weight loss these days. . . the days of continual vomit are over, anti-nausea drugs are in. 
My own progressive weight loss was due to multiple factors: a couple of days with no food after surgery,  a hospital whose food staff did not understand kosher/halal so their food was inedible, my blocked ileum, my family not really feeding me much because I was asleep in bed. .  ."Oh, sorry, we thought you were asleep so we didn't save any for you."   Hrrumph.

My sister kindly offered to be a fat donor, which I thought was extremely sweet. Instead, my IV nutrition included a little IV drip bag of white fat (which WAS kosher).

I had sunk into "starving weight."  I lost 30 lbs early on but worked hard to gain it back. REALLY hard. Protein powder at breakfast, 3 am high-carb foods, etc.  It worked. I got the weight back on.  And on.  And on.

"Oh, hold on, you're scheduled for your next chemo today but we need to Rework the Dosage because you've Gained Weight."
And in the blink of an eye, for the very first time in my entire life, I had become 'fat.'  My laugh was easier and deeper. I felt fewer chills. Not such a bad thing.  Have I become a jolly elf, perhaps?
The fat took on a life of its own, and I kept growing. . .
My doctor started recommending low-fat options. My clothes started to get tight. And still I grew. 

The 'Chemo Barbie' name was no longer mentioned. I had lost my "cutey, style-y" effect. The oncology team became more talkative about diet. 
I developed lumps under my arms. Lymph? Hubby and I panicked. A couple of CAT scans. "Nothing to worry about," they said. They're NOT cancer lumps. Possibly FAT lumps.

I used to be 'Chemo Barbie' but I have now become CHEMO BLOBBY.

My new chemo regimen started up again last Tuesday. I wore my wine-colored leggings with a super-long, black silky tank top, a wine-colored pashmina scarf, black sheep-hide ankle boots (David Tate from Zappos), and a black wool-felt hat. And accessorized with jewelery and purse to match.

Before the IV chemo started, my doctor took a look at the new, huge, peach-sized lump on my side. "Fat lump?" I asked.   She said no, it was probably a cancer lump. 
Thank goodness!

My mama she told me don't worry about your size,

She says boys like a little more Booty to hold at night,

You know I won't be no stick-figure, silicone Barbie doll  

So if that's what you're into then go ahead and move along. .  

         --Meghan Trainor's "All About That Bass"
(Click this text to open YouTube video of this song in separate window)

By popular demand, here's a photo of "The Blob that Ate the CT Scanner" taken winter 2014.