I think that I have had a "hair explosion." It's not just because my head hair is growing quite well -- filling in well and evenly. I look in the mirror and see what looks like the signs of a white beard on the sides of my face. UGH! It's not so much evident on the front part of my face as it is looking at the sides. It is as if I have grown sideburns.
I take my fingers to tweak the hair. There is enough of it that I can do that. UGH!
My questions have been these:
1) Is this something new that will always be a visible part of me? Will it eventually disappear?
2) Can other people see this as well as I can?
3) Should I try to trim it or should I just leave it? I don't want to inadvertently create a more "whiskery" look.
The hair is soft and fine. It appears that its visibility has a lot to do with the brightness of the lights where I am.
I have read up on this. I have also asked my friends Carol and Andi about it. Do I do anything about it or do I just leave it? This is what I have learned:
Some women shave the area and then wish later that they had not.
Some women shave the area and the "Santa" hair does not return.
Some women just leave it to see what happens, as the thoughts are that this is like baby hair and will eventually disappear.
I can't say that I have heard of this hair being dark or thick. It seems to grow in light and white. It is sometimes called "Santa Beard" or some other Santa descriptor.
So, I'll have to see what happens. I have asked some of my friends how well they see the "Santa Beard," and they will say that they do not notice it until I get up close to them and show them. I would say, then, that I could deal with this, if it does not disappear over time.
I have decided not to shave it. I did take some scissors and lightly trimmed the sides a teeny bit, but I think that will not be a problem. I will just take my chances, believing that this will eventually calm down and not be noticeable, even to me.
Monday, January 21, 2013
Sunday, January 13, 2013
De-ported!
Got my port out after having it implanted under my skin, up near my clavicle, 9½ months ago.
The purpose of the port was to make things easier for me and my veins during the period in which I had to do chemotherapy. Infusions, as well as blood draws, were done through this port.
I remember the day I had it put in -- March 23, 2012. I had been told the Monday before this by my oncologist that I was going to have to do chemotherapy after all. We would start that the first week in April. In the meantime, his office would contact my surgeon to make arrangements to have the port inserted. As it so happened, I had an appointment that Monday afternoon with the surgeon. By the time of my appointment, he knew about my need for a port. He had on hand a sample of one to show me and to tell me what he was going to be doing -- that Friday morning.
I showed up at the hospital early on March 23. Although the insertion was to be an out-patient procedure, I was put under for the process. When I came to, I initially wanted to sleep more, until I realized that if I wanted to leave the hospital, I needed to wake up.
I was patched. The surgeon had a portable x-ray machine come to my room to get some images to be sure that everything looked good as far as the port was concerned.
My port had its first use the first week in April, when I went for blood work that was preceding my starting chemo. The nurse had a gadget that was a needle made for use with ports. She would insert that nasty needle into the "target" that was my port, a raised area that could easily be seen and felt. The needle had some small tubes attached to it. These were used to feed things into the port. Always we would begin with a saline solution. We knew things were good to go IF when we got a blood return.
Almost always, getting that blood return was not easy. I would then have to stretch out flatter than I was. If that did not work, I had to raise my arm. If that did not work, then I had to turn to my side. If that did not work, then I had to cough. It seemed I just might have to stand on my head . . . Eventually, though, we'd get it.
After I completed chemo, I still had my port. One reason was that I was needing to have two more CT scans, one the end of July and another the end of November, to be sure some spots seen on an earlier CT scan were not a possible problem. From the middle of July until the first part of December, I had to go get my port flushed every six weeks. That would be the usual pattern until the time came when I could get it taken out.
I was excited when the oncologist told me that I could get my port out. Arrangements were made with my surgeon, and the procedure was taken care of last Tuesday. Again, it was at the hospital, early. This time, though, I just had a local anesthetic. I knew what was happening the entire time.
The gross part was when Dr. Bang was tugging at the port to free it. He would also cut away the tissue that had grown around the port. I heard him scraping it, also. UGH! Finally, it was free and out. Pressure was put on my vein, up by my clavicle, to stop the bleeding where the tube from the port had been inserted in March. I was patched up. DONE!
I have said to several of my friends that I look at this past year as a time when I have been engaged in a battle. I am battling a disease. Getting my port out was an indication to me that for now, I am winning that battle.
To God be the glory.
The purpose of the port was to make things easier for me and my veins during the period in which I had to do chemotherapy. Infusions, as well as blood draws, were done through this port.
I remember the day I had it put in -- March 23, 2012. I had been told the Monday before this by my oncologist that I was going to have to do chemotherapy after all. We would start that the first week in April. In the meantime, his office would contact my surgeon to make arrangements to have the port inserted. As it so happened, I had an appointment that Monday afternoon with the surgeon. By the time of my appointment, he knew about my need for a port. He had on hand a sample of one to show me and to tell me what he was going to be doing -- that Friday morning.
I showed up at the hospital early on March 23. Although the insertion was to be an out-patient procedure, I was put under for the process. When I came to, I initially wanted to sleep more, until I realized that if I wanted to leave the hospital, I needed to wake up.
I was patched. The surgeon had a portable x-ray machine come to my room to get some images to be sure that everything looked good as far as the port was concerned.
My port had its first use the first week in April, when I went for blood work that was preceding my starting chemo. The nurse had a gadget that was a needle made for use with ports. She would insert that nasty needle into the "target" that was my port, a raised area that could easily be seen and felt. The needle had some small tubes attached to it. These were used to feed things into the port. Always we would begin with a saline solution. We knew things were good to go IF when we got a blood return.
Almost always, getting that blood return was not easy. I would then have to stretch out flatter than I was. If that did not work, I had to raise my arm. If that did not work, then I had to turn to my side. If that did not work, then I had to cough. It seemed I just might have to stand on my head . . . Eventually, though, we'd get it.
After I completed chemo, I still had my port. One reason was that I was needing to have two more CT scans, one the end of July and another the end of November, to be sure some spots seen on an earlier CT scan were not a possible problem. From the middle of July until the first part of December, I had to go get my port flushed every six weeks. That would be the usual pattern until the time came when I could get it taken out.
I was excited when the oncologist told me that I could get my port out. Arrangements were made with my surgeon, and the procedure was taken care of last Tuesday. Again, it was at the hospital, early. This time, though, I just had a local anesthetic. I knew what was happening the entire time.
The gross part was when Dr. Bang was tugging at the port to free it. He would also cut away the tissue that had grown around the port. I heard him scraping it, also. UGH! Finally, it was free and out. Pressure was put on my vein, up by my clavicle, to stop the bleeding where the tube from the port had been inserted in March. I was patched up. DONE!
I have said to several of my friends that I look at this past year as a time when I have been engaged in a battle. I am battling a disease. Getting my port out was an indication to me that for now, I am winning that battle.To God be the glory.
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