My brain is stuck. That’s why I haven’t been writing. My brain is swirling with ideas, but it can’t seem to land on anything. Writing has become h-a-r-d. I think I spelled that correctly.
I had to sound it out. (That’s normal, right?).
If you have been a follower of this blog, you know that I was diagnosed with breast cancer last summer. June 24th to be exact (the day after my birthday). Last year was a helluva year to say the least.
My course of treatment was a lumpectomy and seven weeks of daily radiation. Woohoo. I was also lucky enough to find out that my cancer was hormone positive. I’m kind of being serious here. Hormone positive breast cancers are easier to treat than hormone negative breast cancers. Why is this important?
With hormone positive breast cancer, Tamoxifen is the recommended course of treatment – one pill everyday for five years. Unfortunately, there are serious side effects to be considered. I was given the prescription in early December and had it for thirty days before I made my decision. After visiting multiple chat rooms, viewing multiple web sites, and discussing it with friends, I decided to try it. A fellow breast cancer survivor said to me, “Jenni, why wouldn’t you want to try anything to prevent getting breast cancer again?” I couldn’t argue with that.
There are a TON of side effects with this drug. The couple that seem to be plaguing me the most are chemo brain and hot flashes.
The hot flashes were to be expected. Not to be too TMI-ish, but I had a total hysterectomy (with ovary removal) after my radiation treatment and that surgery puts a women into surgical menopause, like immediately. This drug seems to make them a bit more intense. Menopause, Schmenopause.
What in the holy hell is the evolutionary reason for hot flashes? I mean, really?! Was it to signal eligible bachelors that you weren’t available for procreation, but were available for recreation? There had to be a better way. Just sayin’.
The “chemo brain” is a whole other story. I started taking Tamoxifen in January and after two weeks, I noticed a SERIOUS decrease in my brain function. My kids and my hubs can back me up on this. My brain WAS a steel trap. I NEVER forgot anything. ANYTHING. That was my most annoying/endearing trait (probs mostly endearing).
Since I’ve been on this drug, I feel like I’m in a fog. I want to talk, but can’t think of words. They’re there floating in front of me, but I can’t reach them. In mid-sentence, I forget what I’m saying and can’t finish a thought. I want to comment on the stories of the day, but they become vague wisps of memories even though I just read them that day. I used to be analytical (I was a math major), and now I struggle with parsing an article.
I’ve become someone I’m unfamiliar with:
- I almost went to the store in my slippers. Thankfully, they didn’t feel quite right on the garage floor.
- I’ve gotten to work without my laptop (way more than once). By the way, it’s impossible to do my work without a computer.
- I’ve gotten to work and realized I forgot my make-up. Not a big deal? What do you know! I’m 48 years old! Make-up is necessary!!!
- I’m easily distracted like a toddler. Ooooh. Shiny penny……..
- I’m unable to focus and I think it’s affecting my work (Shhh…….)
- I described to my daughter what I was feeling and she said, “It sounds like when I was suffering from my concussion.” Great. A concussion that lasts five years.
In addition to my addled brain, I also have been diagnosed with radiation fibrosis.
Yesterday a friend checked in with me to see how I was doing. After I explained what was happening, she aptly reminded me that even though my new normal was frustrating, it was better than the alternative. That is absolutely hard to argue with.
Wait. What? Radiation fibrosis, you say? Check out my next post.