chemo o

I've been spoiled. I've never had to wear deodorant before. Now I have chemo o. I didn't expect this. Nausea I knew about; they have drugs for that. Fatigue; a drag, but no surprise. But b.o.? That should be part of the medical disclosure up front. "You will lose your hair, possibly your nails, and you may stink under your arms."

I've always figured I lucked out in the body odor area because of my Chinese genes. If my dad ever "needed" deodorant in his life, I'll eat my hat (most things I might eat are about this appetizing right now anyway). Sure, his breath could make you stagger toward a chair, especially if you caught him post-dumpling made with jyotsai, the wickedly potent onion grass that he grew in the backyard. I think each of the next generation has a little patch of the stuff somewhere in our yards. For me, before I put it in food I need to think, "Okay, do I think anyone might stop by today? Tomorrow? At any time in the course of the next 3 to 5 days, might I run into another person and actually need to speak to them?" I'm putting a picture of some recently made dumplings because I think they probably look delicious. I have lost all perspective on this, however, so I'm guessing here.

I love some of the features like lack of b.o. that I think came with Pop's Chinese genes. I love the strong calves. And being basically hairless on one's legs has advantages except for in the wintertime. Here is a shot of my legs next to my dad's. Even with a zoom lens you could only spot a few stray hairs on his strong legs.

I do remember going through a brief period of time in adolescence where I envied young white girls who had more body hair. This is true. I once said aloud to an adult friend, "Gosh, I wish I had more hair on my arms." "Don't!" she snapped with alarm. "No one likes a furry female." I wondered if that was true.

Anyway, I soon came to feel fine about having more compact and hairless legs. I'm hoping it will help with the whole hair loss thing that is coming soon, though I know this is wishful and wistful thinking on my part. This weekend the head hair is coming off before it does that shock and awe thing on me. My niece, Lily, is going to get a buzzcut in solidarity. She's at Bryn Mawr, and every year lots of students there buzz their hair for Locks of Love. A year ago, with her mom having just died, Lily wasn't up for it, as you can imagine. I'm so happy to have her company in this process; I think it's all a pretty intimate thing. We're going to have several skype convos going at the same time so that people can watch and advise -- none of us has done this before. For my head, I don't think it matters much how tidy the job is, but Lily should look as pretty as she is. Don't tell her that all we have is canine shears. I figure they work the same, but I'm not entirely sure.

Final newsflash is that tomorrow Yani and I are joining T'ai in Boston for an Eddie Izzard concert, a treat we planned months before my diagnosis. We weren't sure I'd be able to go, but I'm up for it, and am just going to wear a protective mask. That's a good look at a stand-up comedy show, isn't it? Not only will I be protected from crowd cooties, but since we're eating dinner in Chinatown, I'll be able to mask some of the breath.