I'm not sure where I'm expected to put 50 rounds of chemo on my resume. And I'm not sure where it fits on my personal scale of gloating; somewhere between boasting and self-pitying disappointment, but there you have it.
And how is a girl like me expected to mark this personal milestone? With a box of Rogaine, of course. Doctor's orders.
|Why yes, I do wear white after Labor Day.|
Regardless, my doctor had hardly finished his subtle self-confession about how well Rogaine works, when I jumped off the table and almost ran out the door to buy a box. I mean, I just heard a doctor's borderline endorsement of a product, did I not? Had it not been for that issue of People magazine waiting for me back to the infusion room, I might have forsaken treatment for my vanity.
And like any normal girl with an infusion pump in her fanny pack and a scalp coated in Rogaine, I had to throw on my favorite beanie and take the kids to Target.