Unmotivated :(

A photo from the trip to Newport, Rhode Island (December 26-27th, 2005)

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I am feeling so unmotivated to write.

Last week I almost deleted the whole blog while being sad that when I am at home sick I have nothing to write about (besides all the side effects that I have described a few times already) and when I am out and about I am just pure glad that I can live life ...

I am taking a break from reporting for a while ... I am getting my last AC agent 007 on Friday, which should bring about my last session of nausea and I can look forward to falling out eyebrows, eyelashes and numbing of fingers and toes. I believe this is a pretty good summary of all the side effects that I will have. According to other accounts my energy will "rebound" ... hopefully with it my inspiration to write ...

Christmas - Karacsony - Vianoce

I wish all my 5 readers and my cheerleaders a very
MERRY CHRISTMAS AND A HAPPY NEW YEAR 2006!

THANK YOU SO MUCH!

Fish VS Honey

I am guessing that to live a little bit I first have to die a little bit, because that is the only comparison I can make to the misery I've been going through since my last horror session on Friday. Those darn presents have never been better deserved than now!

I lay for x amount of days on the bed like a fish washed up on the shore unable to do pretty much anything besides run for the bathroom and crawl back to bed. I almost turned to fish this morning again, but then I envisioned a nice breakfast at the office: a cup of coffee from the Belgian bakery next door, a slice of whole wheat bread and godfather's acaccia honey that he sent from Slovakia. The vision was so strong that I made it!

I am at the office and working and I am so happy ....
Mind over matter, right? Or in this case honey over fish? :)

Sloooow traffic ... MTA strike

5 more to go + some BC knowledge

Yipppieee I am almost half way done with my nauseating days. This single fact makes me happy even though, today is one of those days that I only sleep, go for my 10 minute walk and do absolutely nothing.

I will not describe the experience again - it's pretty much the same. A sting in my finger, doctor's visit, quick lunch and 3 red injections into my vain of the chemicals, one more bag followed by picking out my 3rd present and home, sweet home.

This time I picked out a pair of brown gaucho pants from Express. Being the clothes whore that I am I get most pleasure out of anything that is wearable. Some women have the "thing" for bags, others for jewelry - I love clothes (and shoes a little bit:).

Just recently, my friend Miriam M. brought me a very interesting article that I'd like to share here. I will not write about the general breast cancer knowledge, because it's in all books. I wasn't thinking to write about BC knowledge as a matter of fact at all, but I can not help myself and share the following fascinating facts.
The article was written by Ms. Sandra Steingraber, PhD, who is a Mammologist. I am not a scientist myself, but most of the following statements listed just make a lot of sense ....

Before the facts ... something INTERESTING:

Who named us "Mammals" and why?

A Swedish taxonomist called Carlos Linnaeus in 1758, who actually named all the animals of the world. Mammals are the "warm -blooded, hairy branch of the animal kingdom". At the time, the idea of naming the whole class of the animal kingdom after a female organ was considered appalling. But Linnaeus fought for it anyway, as it turns out he did not do it because he was an early-age feminist, but because of his own issues.

In the middle of the 18th century most babies were fed by professional lactators. Almost everyone, especially in France was giving their babies to be fed to wet nurses. Linnaeus was much less concerned with the high mortality rate of infants of the time, as it turns out he wanted to restrict the role of women outside of the house. He wanted to underscore that women had another role outside of the house. His own wife had eight children, all of which she nursed herself and never left a house.

(Just another untaimed man :)

Breast cancer facts:

1. Breast feeding is the largest modifiable factor that can cut down your risk of getting breast cancer by half! Having been breast fed significantly lowers the risk of obesity in children.

2. Lawn chemicals, especially one called atrazine, which is a weed killer has been banned in the European Union precisely because of troubling links to breast and ovarian cancer. The reason it's not banned here, and it's the number one and most popular pesticide in the US, is because there is some inconsistency in the data.

Canada has decided that cosmetic use of pesticides are now banned. As of May 2005 law has passed the Canadian Supreme Court. Canadians decided that if you are not growing food, and using pesticides for cosmetic reasons, the benefits are not outweighted by the risk.

3. Dry cleaning. According to a study, women exposed to perchloroethylene, which is a fluid we use to dry clean clothes have higher than expected rates of breast cancer. There is a new way of cleaning called wet-cleaning, which is supposed to clean your clothes just as well as dry-cleaning, but your clothes won't smell like the chemicals after dry-cleaning.

(This is a hard call! I searched New York City for wet-cleaners and even here I was only able to find a wet-cleaner on the other side of the city, so I am not holding my breath that I will be able to wet-clean my clothes soon, but it's good to know ... Maybe this is the future ?)

4. Nail Salons. Nail salons use lots of different chemicals, some of which are hormone-mimicking. Some of which are simply toxic in other ways. It's not that nail salons cause breast cancer! Chemicals used in nail salons are inherently toxic, a lot of them.

5. Smoking.

(I hate smokers as they are so, I am copying this part from the paper with a great pleasure .. and dedicating it to all those who claim
"You have to die of something, so I smoke" and those who say "It's my body, I do whatever I want to it" and to all those who know someone who lived till 120 and smoked their entire life! Here ya go! )

According to studies second hand smoke, especially if exposure occurs before the first pregnancy, appears to cause breast cancer.

When you are a smoker, you are exposed to lots of chemicals linked to breast cancer but we don't always see an increased rate of breast cancer. And now we think we understand why. It's because there are things in tobacco smoke that are so toxic that you actually kill off the eggs in your ovaries. This is why women who are smokers go into menopause, on average, two or three years earlier than women who don't smoke. Women shorten their fertile lifespan by being smokers. By doing so, they also lower their own circulating estrogen levels because they're killing off all their egg cells. And so, the lowering of estrogen levels ironically is a protection against breast cancer. Even though a smoking woman is also exposed to chemicals like vinyl chloride, which is a tobacco smoke, that are known to cause breast cancer. So that's why the data are a little contradictory. Obviously there is no contradiction about lung cancer and bladder cancer and smoking.

However, when you are a second hand smoker you are not getting enough smoke to kill off your eggs and your ovaries. So, you still have high circulating estrogens, but you are also getting all the breasts carcinogens in the second hand smoke. So, second hand smoke appears to be as bad as smoking for risk of breast cancer!

.. I learned a great deal from this article ...

I hope that if you got this far reading you learned a lot too, even if you live in this fast world and can not/could not/will not breast feed; love your beautifully trimmed bushes; get your nails done weekly or are like me and half of your clothes need to be dry-cleaned ...

Maybe this article makes you think about putting down your cigarettes or at least helps you
understand that I (many of us) hate smelling that stink and could you please step somewhere aside, where you can kill only your own eggs? :) THANKS!

Dancing through Life

Hopefully this stage of being stranded on the 5 blocks of the neighborhood and feeling sick most of the times will go away soon (By the end of February?) and I will be able to pick up my life exactly where I left it off.

I miss doing all those things that I mentioned in my intro .... "I worked, I studied, I played and traveled and fell in love ... I love life ..." and I danced!
I forgot dancing! I love dancing since I first pronounced the word mom, "anyu" or "mama" or maybe since I heard some wild song on the radio and shook my cloth diapered boody.

Being an only child I had to look for entertainment by myself and what better way there was than cranking up the old TESLA radio to the max, finding a space in front of the standing mirror and shaking what momma gave me to the rhythms of the soundbox?

Dancing is connected to happiness in my mind. It is not whether I know the steps, can follow a partner or hear the beat, but about unchaining my soul and some sort of unexplainable freedom.

During my elementary school years I was a part of a class dance group, which danced a pathetic and simplistic choreography to a Bananarama song.

I made another attempt during my high school years, in Kosice to become a dancer. I found a leaflet that searched for talent and showed up for an audition. As it turns out, the group was looking for dancers for acrobatic rock and roll. Being 174 cm I did not exactly fit their image of a porcelain doll to be lifted above heads and thrown over the shoulder in the air and so I parted with the idea on the spot.

On my first visit to a dance house a few years later I fell in love with men in knee-high black boots beating at their legs, girls in 50 skirts and the dirty lyrics of hidden meanings of Hungarian folk songs.

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("Kecskemeti hid alatt.
Leany a legeny alatt.
Azert fekudt alaja ....
.... viszketett a szoknyajaaaa Tyujujujujuujjjjjjjjj"

"Underneath the Kecskemet bridge,
A girl is lying underneath a boy.
She lay there, because her skirt was itching .... Lulululuy .. ")

Kecskemet - a town in Hungary

(Not my best translation .. just to give you an idea :)

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This is when I left and moved to London, where as a nanny "as poor as a church mouse" I was forced to stay with the mirror act.

New York City opened a new dancing era. Working my night shifts at the Beach Cafe I met the Belorussian Irina and caved in to her repeated invitations to join her on her weekly dancethon (men-a-thon in her case :).
Irina was particular about her dating policy - "No men with skin tone lighter than the inside of an M&M".

She's always been the Russian, stubborn "don't mess with me" toughie; I was just a rookie.

I remember standing in front of Nells in a piece of nothing, shivering cold on line to get inside and sticking out like a "black" sheep in a crowd. Irina and I were obviously a very small minority at the R&B, Hip Hop and Reggae club. Liked by men, hated by women. Irina, being one the frequent guests was also entitled to many privileges, like cutting the line to the front of the velvet rope or the free drinks offered by her favorite bartender.

Looking back, I was so innocent.

Upstairs we listened to some live reggae, but downstairs the R&B room was a more action filled setting. Just after a few songs of producing my best performance to Mary J. Blige I felt a body tightly squeezing behind and something hard .... I jumped from surprise ....

Those steamy nights spent with Irina (Rest in Peace) are long gone. She was one of the unfortunate victims of 9/11 and I never regained the self-confidence or my spirit to return to Nell's.

When I heard Shakira's album in Spanish for the first time I decided to start bellydancing. It was the only dance that I could think of that did not require the gracious participation of the other sex, and so empowered by the whole idea I enrolled in Serena's classes, who is a 70 years old bellydancing icon in New York City.
I rolled my stomach, shimmied my hips and ondulated my every body part to the rhythm of zills and drums three times a week for an entire year.
I bought a scarf with trillions of blinding silver and gold coins, tied it around my hip and with every move I made I jingled with ardor. This dance is capable of transforming ordinary women into creators of pure magic. I walked into the studio as a regular woman but as I left, with every step I felt as the most powerful Godess.

South and Central America gave me the passion for salsa, Brazil made me fall in love yet again with forró and samba. The Sound of Brazil (SOB's) is still the place where I long to be these days. If I can't have the Summer, at least the atmosphere of the Carnaval and the Caipirinhas should bring back warm memories of dancing bare feet in a tiny bikini on the beach.

Just when I was diagnosed, I was on my way to start classes of the Argentinian passion - the Tango. Well, this has to wait and so does my most loyal dance partner, Misa with whom we shared the worse dance partner, JM while almost drowning in our tears from laughter.

I am excited for the future. Geoff promised to take Tango classes with me (I think he did this under the influence of some powerful drug or some alcohol :) after the horror is over.

Soon enough I shall dance again!

Peeping Tom/Elvi

Brrrr it's freezing in the city! No wonder all I feel coming home after work is switching on the Christmas tree lights, finding Frank Sinatra on the CD rack, pulling the computer chair to the balcony window, feet up on the radiator and stair at the lit up windows of the opposite apartment building.

I just like to sit and imagine those lives across the street behind the glassed window boxes - one life per one window.

A family on the seventh floor is having dinner, someone to the right of them about 3 floors up is changing their clothes (Did they they just get home?), another many are stretching in front of their TV sets.
Some are entering rooms, others leaving, maybe others yet are sleeping?

I admit, I am a tiny bit of a Peeping Tom not only since we live in a high rise, but ever since I took that first cab ride at night across the Queensborough, 59th Street Bridge, from where the view inside the "flats", as the Brits say is at its best. I remain at peeping, because using the binoculars (which we do posses) would apparently be a criminal offense.
(Ok, ok, I did it a few times :)

After a night of dancing at the infamous Hungarian Disco that closed ages ago - the Red Tulip I walked out to the sidewalk and not having taken the offer of some "hunk" for a "good-night sleep" I stepped to the busy street. This was waaay before Carrie from Sex in the City taught the world her renowned hand stretch and wave.

I stood there hesitantly part of me wanting to be chic and trendy, the other part remained almost embarrassed while insecurely lifting my hand ...
"Is anyone watching?"

It took about two second, and so I never fully savored that first sweet moment of success when the peasant girl from Walnutville (Orechova Poton), region of Danube Wednesday (sorry for butchering the name:), Slovakia becomes a New York City diva for a single second.

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P.S.1
My mail contained a surprise today! I received a hand written letter for the first time in 10 years and a card from my very own Chemo Angels.
I read about the program of the Chemo Angels on the net and signed up for one. (www.chemoangels.com)
If you don't ask for it, you don't get it, right? Not even an angel these days ... and so I did :)

PCE #8 My cheerleading team and angels Kelly and Liz.

P.S.2
I watched the most depressing thing on TV tonight, a complete mistake on my part: Victoria's Secret Fashion Show ..... Ufffff :)

Morning SOS

Turning to my other side ready for a few more hours of quality sleep I hear my mom's urgent voice calling my name "Elviiii" ... Some kind of commotion with water in the bathroom at the background is happening ...

Deep in my happy Lalaland I was hoping that this was just a fraction of another dream and not a reality at 8 o'clock in the morning. Unable to ignore (but trying really hard) mom's third or fourth cry for help at this wee hour I dragged myself out of bed and rushed to the emergency scene that looked like this:

Mom is standing wrapped in a towel, dripping water on the bathroom mat, while the water is rapidly cascading just like Niagara waterfalls almost overflowing the tub from the faucet.

"Ohh nooo"

This is what's called "Waking up on an instant" and I cry for Geoff's help, who is obviously practicing the same sleep-defensive tactic of ignoring my loud shrieks. It takes at least 3 calls before he is out of bed and following all three of us are attempting to close the faucet ...

It was a vista from the Russian tale of a Giant Turnip, in which the turnip grew so big that it had to be pulled out from the ground by a human chain: grandad, grandma, mom, dad, boy, girl and a dog. I don't know how mom managed to turn the faucet so hard and plug the plug in the tub at the same time, but somehow she manages the most unbelievable things at times.

I know it's somewhat hard (even if she is here for the fourth time) to understand the working of every single thing which is different in Slovakia versus the US (like the faucet) and trying to comprehend English after 40 years of loving the USSR.

As a matter of fact, she just wished Geoff "Blesk you" after a good big sneeze while doing the newest Japanese craze the "Suzuki" :) on the couch.

I must admit, I have had my share of "misunderstandings" especially with the English language. Some of these mix-ups steam from the fact that nobody corrects my English any longer. Everyone seems to be under the assumption that after 9 years I've had enough practice to know better.

One of my signature mishaps was with the sign "XING" which is painted on many streets of New York City. The first time I saw the sign I was visiting a friend in Flushing, which is a predominantly Asian/Chinese area of the city.
The sign drew my attention immediately and I noticed that cars stop or slow down by the "XING" sign. It just happened that during this famous visit there were many yellow school busses around that were making a stop by the "XING".

By the logic of eliminating every other explanation that came to my mind I concluded that "XING" means school in Chinese Mandarin ...

Not until a few years later did the subject of Chinese schools came up, when we were visiting the Blue Ridge Mountains in Virginia. Driving down the hill one sunny afternoon after a day of apple and pumpkin picking the sign "XING" caught my sight to my overwhelming surprise.

I looked at Geoff and said:
"Honey, isn't it weird that there are Chinese schools in this area?"
Geoff looked at me completely puzzled and like a dummy he inquired ...

"Where did you get that?"

Now I looked puzzled and wondered how is it that he's been living here all his life and does not know .... and so I explained ..

Well, thanks to his driving skills we did not crash .... And for those other "meees" that do not drive like myself .. XING means CROSSING :)

I am thankful the subject never came up during some dinner conversation with friends, whom I would have tried to wow with my knowledge of Chinese ...

So, once again "Like mother, like daughter" :)

* * * * * *

Otherwise? I am still not completely OK.

When I started this chemohorror everyone said "It will get better with time laaadydaaaa" but now that I am sick non-stop everyone keeps saying: "I heard it gets worse by each session .. "

It's almost like when no-one ever compliments your hair, you get a haircut and the second it's cut everyone says "Ohh, I preferred it longer" ...

My world has shrunk since Chemoland .. I live on about 5 blocks surrounding the apartment and go for walks like puppy dogs do in coats - with supervision for 15 minutes before I get tired and wish someone actually had a cute purse to carry me around as a pet.

Tomorrow I am off to work (3 blocks to the right and 4 downtown) ... will see how long I last ....

My horror week ...

"Aka matka taka Katka"
or
"Like mother, like daughter"
or
"We don't look anything alike :) "

Last Christmas in New York ....

This week seems like half my life was filmed on the Harry Potter set and the other part on the ER.

Monday, I lasted half a day at work before nausea took over my desire to decorate the Christmas tree at work and so stumbling home I just about made it to bed, where I remained till midnight with mom by my bedside.

Tuesday, the tree got decorated but that is about all what happened because my urges towards THE bed and my body's stubbornness not to stick out a single normal day won over all my will-power and so after a struggle between the chemistry, feelings and responsibility I crawled home to THE bed calling my name and spent about million productive hours by sleeping and sleeping some more. If you add all the time spent sleeping I may be the modern Sleeping Beauty (well, less of a beauty with my bald head and more just a sleeping egghead).

But how can I say this? My Prince arrived from TEJAAAS yesterday and I told him, I apologized for being so ugly-fugly and sooo sorry ... He smiled, asked me for a dance, but I rejected. He then picked up lifeless Jennifer from the floor and said "May I have this dance?". They swirled and leaned back and forth to some sort of polka and salsa mix as I dictated to the Prince charming and the wig. As the music however ended I got the kiss.

Wednesday I was looking forward to meeting my buddy - Doc. Lu, the psychiatrist and telling her over and over again how pissed off I am that this is happening to me and not to some serial killer who is sitting in jail for suffocating their babies. I was also going to tell her how annoyed I am at people who decided to ignore me since this diagnosis ... They must be assuming that sneezing causes breat cancer, right? ..... or Is breast cancer like leprosy???
"You'll touch me and you DIEEEE!!! Boooooboooboooo :)"
Well, I was going to ask doc. Lu about the process of acquiring EQ (emotional intelligence) needed to react to my situation (A simple "Elvi, how are you? without that deadly tone in your voice will be fine and if you say "I know it's hard. I'll be thinking about you " I'll take it as just a bonus (even if it's a white lie - it feels good! , also not expected, but quite nice ... )

Another thing on my mind was the question why some people that I wasn't even that close to care more than people that I thought were closer?
My judgment of who I know and who I KNOW must be really off ...

So here we come to PCE (POSITIVE CANCER EXPERIENCE )# 7 ?
I keep forgetting ...
You learn who your real friends are and make a list of those that should hear "YOU'RE FIRED! (Please forgive me Mr. Trump for stealing your favorite, pattented quote!)

With all these plans and pre-repeated scenarios I woke up on Wednesday to the worse nausea yet and just watched pre-Christmas world go by 56th Street until my body started shivering and worked itself up to a burning fever. Despite of the sauna in the room I was trembling under the layers of five blankets and had hardly life in me to make a phone call. The consultation with doctors lead to a taxi drive to the hospital with mom and Noa, who ended celebrating her 30th birthday by my bedside with a bag of peanut M&M's at the ER until 9:30 pm.

I am comforted now. Mom - the only cancer I knew my entire life "A person who tends to overprotect what is theirs" is looking after me . .. and I am hers and she is mine and we are ours with all our good and bad habits as a daughter-child drive each other crazy living this symbiosis.

Mom is doing just what caring, loving mommas do - she cooks, cleans, measures temperature every 5 seconds by placing her hand over my forehead (highly annoying after the 50th time), checks while I am asleep if my chest is rising, tells me to eat more and more and more and wear five hats for cold.
She waters the starving plants and now and then makes comments like "These flowers will never live, once I leave" in Hungarian.

And voila! It's the weekend! Will get to decorate our Christmas tree and I am hoping that my mood will rise and the atmosphere of all around prevails!

6 more to go!

Isn't it surprising how a human body can get used to pretty much anything? Normalcy is whatever you have to deal with right now. I often used to say
"I could never do it" .... WRONG!

We all deal with whatever life offers at the moment - lemons per my case ...

Normal for a while is going for my chemo treatment - just like last Friday.
The first time I had Geoff with me, the second time I had Misa by my side, Chemo Guy in my bag and Jennifer on my head.

Walking into the Estee Lauder building I now recognize faces - guards,
doctors, receptionists and other Jennifers waiting to be salvaged from head tops. Having a wig myself I now examine every single hairdo (undercover, of course at the elevator) while describing the series of procedures to Misa that I am about to endure.

The first step is the vampire's lab. Joe, a friendly big-smile also hairless nurse pinches my finger for a blood sample necessary to check for white blood count and leans over "Have you started loosing hair yet?"
I toss my blond locks over my shoulder and smile ..
"You could have fooled me girl!"

The chair next to me is occupied by a pretty Indian girl. Her dark complexion, big bown eyes and dimples on both sides make you forget that she is also - bald.
At Sloan, they always check what your name is and when you were born (not that anyone would want to switch .. "Oh .. why don't I just play cancer patient for a day .. ") .. and I hear her say ... "1977"

"1977?"

That is 3 years younger than I am! I've been wallowing in my self-pity for being so young and having this F(**in Harry .. yet, here is this reality check ...
"Why do I feel comforted by other's misfortune?"

Misa is dragged inside the examining room and when nurse Kris attempts to explain the self-administering of my $4000/per pop shot to raise my white blood cells I re-direct her to her ... She's had practice while assisting making frozen babies. I am fed up to play the main part ... Can I just participate?

My mom is on her way from the airport on a secret assignment to nurse her babygirl back to health in the next month.

Present number 2 is pictured above!

6 more to get!

Christmas windows of New York

Madison Avenue


Columbus Circle

Bloomingdales at 59th Street

I did it!

IN and OUT

* * * * * * * *





One would think that I'd be freaking out getting my head shaved, but the contrary is the truth! I could not wait to get rid of the horrible brown roots - remains of the $200 dollar highlights that I had done sometime in June!?

My wig - Jennifer (according to her Godfather and hairdresser Mr. Gwen) is quite a stunner with perfect highlights and blond locks of much thicker hair than I'll ever have. On my last visit to the salon she was handed to me in a pink paper bag: "Here! Make friends! You'll wear her quite a bit" said Gwen and so this is where our friendship began.

Jen is popular. These past two weeks I've modeled her uncountable times in front of the mirror, windows and visitors, who all agreed that I complement her well with my good looks ;), egg shaped head and brown eyes. Not only is she popular, she also gets around! Every single visitor (regardless of sex) insisted on trying her on and modeling her themselves. I hate to say it, but I think I am the winner in this competition - she suits me and no-one else!

Buzz ... bzzz .. and we were let into this abstract, foreign land of wigs and hair pieces. A country of its own on the second floor, right next to Columbus Circle, a place, where looks, thus lives transform. Clutching to my pink paper bag carefully sealed with Jen inside we entered. Right in front of us stood Gwen at first hardly acknowledging our presence, but in a few seconds shaking hands with Geoff and greeting me with his cutest, but reserved smile. Having multiple experiences with gay guys and seeing them turn from Miss SupreDuuperNice to Ms. Don'tMessWithMeBiatch in a matter of seconds (right, Denis? :) I keep myself on the xtra effort good behavior, complimenting his job and Jen a few times before we are seated in a closed cubicle.

I get the throne in front of the mirror and spend a few minutes just staring at my hair or as mom calls it my "Chinese Silk" - so fine and oh so few ....
I am trying to imagine my new skull covered with white skin and nothing on it, but with my best efforts I can not see my would-be-new-me.

Since this diagnosis it feels like I am regressing to becoming baby Elvi!
Not only do I brush my teeth with Tom's of Maine VERY BERRY STRAWBERRY toothpaste (mint hurts my sore gums), I also get the baby talk once in a while from random individuals (like Geoff and Judy:), and on a top of it I am becoming bald and hairless as a newborn!
(For those pervs who wonder: the answer is ohhh yeaaah! :)

Gwen pulls a draw open and takes out a black barber cover (or whatever it's called) and the electric buzzer and to my surprise my chair is turned away from the mirror. I feel tickling on my skull while we chit-chat about chemo and Gwen's experiences with it. He's been selling wigs to chemo patients for 15 years and last year he had to go through the experiences himself. The experiences that he knew all too well by the accounts of his many clients. Is it faith or "just" a morbid coincidence? How often does a firefighter puts out a fire in his own house?

Not seeing my face changing its character I try to get some feedback from Geoff. He's been looking at me with a sort of frozen smile all this time and so when I ask "How do I look?" he says what I'd expect "Ohh! You're so sexy!" ...
.... I always knew he was a diplomat ...

"Gwen, I am just really worried what's going to happen if my wig flies away?"
(He rolls his eyes and smiles ... )
"Well, you'll turn around, pick it up and put it back on"
"OK .. now that was funny for a moment, but seriously?"
"I'll give you a tape! Do not worry, it's not going to happen."
(Or so he says in remains of his French accent ... )

Gwen leaves ... I run my fingers through my head. The sensation of the 2 millimeter long hair brushing against my skin gives me strange chills that I can not decide if I like or dislike.
Rubbing a bald man's head brings luck, right?
1 dollar a rub, anyone?

Swissshhhhhhhhhhhhh!
I turn the chair around and find Sinead O'Connor staring back at me!
We could bloody be twins!
My hands cover my mouth in surprise and a sort of self-defense .... a look closer, sit back, closer, sit back ... OK .. not too-too bad ....

Gwen returns and points out a big pigment circle on the top of my head ...
"Did you know you had that?"
I've always had a patch of pitch dark black hair growing on my head and never knew where or how it got there, so here! We solved the mystery! Pigment!
I wonder whether my signature black patch will ever grow back?

First rehearsal goes well.
Jen gets a piece of tape, I shake her out, turn her upside down and swing it over my head. Voila! Sinead is out .. Barbie with blond locks is in! I am not a bit uncomfortable. God should have given this hair to me in the first place!

"Baby shampoo once in two weeks, brush and style like normal hair and I will need her for repair in two month for at least three days!"

(No f*&^%in' way Gwen!)

"Geoff! Congratulations to you! Two women for a price of one is a bargain!"

(Not when you have to get her 8 presents for every treatment :)