Christmas 2010 was an interesting one for me since I was in the middle of my chemotherapy treatment. I think Christmas was after Chemo 2 and days just before Chemo 3.
Two days, or maybe the day before Christmas, my hair started to fall out. It wasn't like, SNAP, you got no hair. The last day at work before Christmas vacation, my scalp started to hurt really bad. It felt like my scalp was trying to escape my actual body. I went to the bathroom, took a pair of scissors, and cut off all my shoulder-length hair. After I was done, I looked in the trash can and just stared at all of my hair lying in the trash can. Boy, there was a lot of hair no longer on my head. I started to tear up and then realized I wasn't going to cry over this. Over the next few days, my hair slowly fell out.
By the time Christmas rolled around, I wasn't in the jolliest of moods. I was feeling sick because of the chemo and down about my appearance. Just because I wasn't going to cry about my baldness, that didn't mean I liked being bald. I hated it and could feel my self-esteem going down the crapper. My boyfriend was stressed out because of his then-crappy job. We just added a puppy to our lives so the two of us were just absolutely stressed.
We went to Christmas at my parents' house, and it was such an awful experience. I hated every minute of it. The dinner conversation revolved around my stepsister, of course. So when my stepmother interrupted me TWICE when my neighbors were asking about my treatment, I lost it. The second time she did it, I saw red and lost my temper. "Do I have to be talking about fucking weddings and babies to get a word in edgewise around here?" I snapped at her.
Both her, my neighbor and I believe my stepsister (or maybe it was her husband, I don't remember), all looked at me like, WHOA. I didn't care. If I could have said nastier things to all of them, then I would have. I doubt my stepmom realized what she was doing at the time (probably just thought she was being an attentive hostess), but to me, she was trying to silence me and prevent me from talking about my life, my illness. I know cancer and chemotherapy isn't a jolly holiday topic to discuss, but that was what was happening to me. Interrupting me TWICE while I was trying to talk to their neighbors was rude and offensive.
As my boyfriend and I drove home from dinner at my parents' house, I was bawling and completely miserable. It felt like I could have just stayed at home because obviously I wasn't welcome, or at least my cancer wasn't. I was cursing my stepfamily and their favoritism bullshit, while vowing to my boyfriend that we wouldn't be spending anymore holidays with my parents if I can help it. However, my Christmas wasn't a complete depressing train wreck of emotions. It was still pretty awesome, especially since it was my first Christmas in my house. Boomer, also known as the BEST Christmas gift ever, was such a cute little puppy, and I had so much fun snuggling with her. My boyfriend and I spent the day just hanging out, watching old movies and playing with the puppy.
This face. THIS FACE. How can you have a bad Christmas when you had this face to look at?