Kids Barbie

It has been almost two years since I started receiving different types of chemotherapy. As side effects come and go one has been constant; chemo brain. I find myself forgetting what I am talking about in mid-sentence pretty often these days but what is worse is when I can’t remember even doing something. This was the case when I opened a delivery from FedEx on Sunday.

First we have to back up to when I was getting ready to start my first round of chemo. I was very nervous about losing my hair and the effect it would have on my kids. After hours of research and reaching out to women that had already gone through this with young kids, I had hoped to alleviate some of the fear for my kids. One of the things I had done, and don’t remember doing, was signing up to get a Barbie doll for my kids that is specifically made for children with cancer or children who have parents that are going through treatment for cancer. The dolls are not available to be purchased and I cannot remember where I even signed up to request them for my kids. They never showed up and I forgot all about it. Then on Sunday a package was delivered and inside were the dolls.

My hair has long since fallen out and been replaced with a mass of chemo curls. No matter how different my hair may be I am very grateful to have hair. It is a sign (to me) that the newer more targeted chemotherapy treatments are killing the cancer cells in my body and leaving the healthy ones. Only time will tell if this is true, but mentally, it helps me. More important is what having hair means to my kids. They have told me that not having my hair scared them and is the “best part” about the new treatment I am receiving. Emery especially needs to touch my hair. I think by feeling it she gets reassurance that I’m here and alive. I understand that to them it is a sign that I am normal, that I look like the other mothers from school or sports. So Scott and I gave the kids the dolls and told them we were sorry they arrived after my hair had fallen out and grown back but they didn’t care.

The girls are always telling stories and making up imaginary games where someone continually has cancer. They have cut dolls hair, bought dolls with buzz cuts, and even shaved one of their dolls just so it looked like me. It is emotional for me to see them play and hear how big a part cancer is in their world, both in reality and imaginative. My childhood games never had someone that was battling this disease…it adds another paper cut wound to my heart.

These dolls are such a small thing but they brought huge smiles to my three babies.