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Husband, Gary; and, at far right, longtime mate Ann Fitzgibbonon after Riffe shaved off her hair Thursday, July 30, 2015, Jane Gardner makes a champagne ast with, from left, her hair stylist Gary Riffe. Tag the Virginian Pilot, and involve hashtag #StandWithJane on Twitter, Facebook as well as Instagram. Drugs hit her harder. Whenever battling breast cancer, was crippling, former TV anchor’s first experience with chemo. One evening, a few weeks into treatment, she called her mate Ann Fitzgibbon. Her hair started falling out outright. They shared a glass of wine a few glasses, in reality while Jane pulled out lots of her hair. Her husband ok rest care with an electric razor. That’s right! Jane was the weather girl -that’s term they used among various different roles at WSLS TV in Roanoke, and Fitzgibbon was a college intern from Radford.
Fitzgibbon and Jane met when one and the other were in their 20s. They formed a friendship that endured Jane’s move to Norfolk and Fitzgibbon’s moves to North Carolina, Texas and NYC prior to coming to Norfolk with her husband, Michael, 16 years ago. Jane, in turn, saw Fitzgibbon through Michael’s 2003 aggressive diagnosis esophageal cancer. After that. It’s a well annie, let me tell you why that’s not a perfect idea. Enter Jane. While continuing their interlacing cancer steps waltz, here they always were. Whenever mourning another cancer and another set of locks, they think back to the night 15 years ago when they sat gether on alternative deck.
And now here is a question. Ain’t that what we said when you called to tell me cancer was back that we’d get through it? It’s like you’re joining the Marines, Riffe says. I get to watch this lovely sunset, Jane says, it’s a bonus. Needless to say, he switches to a shorter No. It’s not his first headshaving. Is a hairdresser for 37 years. He knows, as a matter of fact, simply a few years ago, when, in a single day, 4 of his clients ld him they’d been diagnosed with cancer. So, it says, ‘we have the power. So, it’s not intending to did actually me.
I’m doing it to the hair. He likes that Jane shaved her head well ahead of the hair’s tal retreat. He glides shaver, now down to a No. Simply a few weeks before, Jane had an appointment with gynecologic oncologist Michael McCollum, who declared her a 14 that’s blood measure of CA125″, a protein looked for in greater concentration in ovarian tumor cells than in different cells. Essentially, normal range has been below 35. At its greatest, in May, Jane’s CA125 level was 1,After surgery to work off her uterus and a few chemotherapy sessions, it tumbled to 31 in July. Now it’s at a level that McCollum described as textbook perfect. They discussed her neuropathy -My feet wake me at night and a variety of drugs she needs to battle the pain and numbness in her feet and hands. Then the light red blood cell count that’s bordering on anemia. Then the Neupogen shots she needs to boost her white blood cell count. Consequently, in addition. Her thought after appointment and blood report.
There’s a fancy name for this tool. It’s called a peanut. She sits with her shoulders straight, a gracious smile and unwavering, stagelike composure. There’s a straight razor to get stubble rid. That’s interesting. Riffe applies shaving cream, consequently glides the razor across her head. Kiskinis gets a warm wel to wrap around her head. You see, may you go a little hotter than that? Riffe asks her. She tells Riffe she appreciates his evening’s work. It’s mitzvah. That said, I don’t look for to say it’s a pleasure. Although, it’s a honor. Riffe says. There might be an ast to Jane and health and hair smooth return.
Gourmet hamburgers will sizzle on the stove, and dinner conversation will meander from weighty family problems to procuring levity ice cubes in a Paris hotel.
While coming up her nape neck, across her smooth scalp, thence along the sides to her temples, riffe uses it to massage Jane’s head.
First, lotion, that Fitzgibbon fetches. While leaning close against her, he holds her head in all hands. Her head, held regally a minute earlier to brace against this communal display of bravery, got into his able hands, and her eyes close in peaceful repose. Jane’s neck muscles go limp. Gardner had face and name recognition beyond others, partly because of her arrival on neighboring TV scene in the late 1970s as a woman among men, It’s what a television anchor does. Oftentimes for about 1 decades, TV got Jane Gardner into people’s homes to share news of death and survival, breakthroughs and breakdowns. Time has come to tell her story. It would’ve been coming out in clumps, merely as it did 15 years ago.