This past week was initially a blessed relief of menopause symptoms, and other than one super grumpy day, was almost (dare I say it), even keeled! I know, right!??!! LOL!
The highlight of my week was my visit to the oncologist to talk about everything. Wonder of wonders, and holy of holies, he said I'm good to take hormone replacement! NO MORE HOT FLASHES!!!! NO MORE MOOD SWINGS!!!! GLORIOUS!!!!! FABULOUS!!! WONDROUS!!!!! Seriously, I'm on cloud nine!!
Apparently there's been three separate university studies that have shown that there's no increased risk of returning cancer. AND there's evidence it reduces overall risks of cancer, esp. colon cancer (which is the cancer most closely associated with uterine cancer). Oh, and for those who haven't taken psychobiology of women, estrogen increases your energy level and decreases your appetite. H-E-L-L-O!!!!!
So now the debate is which kind of hormones to use: synthetic plant based, or the horse urine one. Now, biologically speaking, the horse urine one is the closest to human estrogen. My major problem with it is how they get it. Basically, it comes from pregnant mares and I have a REALLY hard time with how they get it. The horses are impregnated every year, kept in a stall for the first part of the pregnancy, with collection bags, for 6 months, and then put out to pasture to foal and get pregnant again for 6 months. Oh, and often times, the foals are sent to slaughter. It just seems like such an awful existence. So I'm very torn between using the med that has the highest chance of working versus the awful guilt and picture little baby horses being killed. I talked with the head pharmacist guy, and he said the synthetic one works just as well, although the dosing tends to be a little higher. And it's a LOT cheaper. So I'm pretty sure I want to use the synthetic one, but the only problem is that when I brought the script for the horse med, the pharmacy called the doc to see if he would switch it, and he wouldn't. So now I'm waiting to hear back to find out why....FML.
So for a few more days anyways, I'll be slightly cranky, with a side of sweaty hot flashes. But soon....oh so gloriously soon my long held fantasy of an almost normal life will be realized!!!
Monday, May 30, 2011
Saturday, May 21, 2011
GAAAAH!
Hormones really are a biotch! FUCK YOU HORMONES!
There. Got that off my chest. The ups and downs of the past week are borderline psychotic. Thankfully the pity party despair-fest earlier this week has given way to a freakish calm. I might even go so far as to say emotionally numb. Either that, or I'm feeling "normal" and have just forgotten what it's like.
Something new I've discovered about myself in the past few months is an inability to embrace full laziness like before. For example, today I stayed home from work out of sheer exhaustion, and rather than sleep, or actually relax, I cleaned, flipped the mattress, ironed the bed skirt....all kinds of ridiculous busy work. I mean, who the hell irons a bed skirt? Ok, so it was crazy wrinkly, and the pleats just weren't crisp, but still! This whole "productivity" drive is a bunch of crap!
Honestly, I can't think of anything witty, or funny, or even particularly snarky to write about. It's like this week has lead to a remarkably boring lull of everyday life. About the only thing remotely interesting is a blessed lull in hot flashes. I started drinking soy milk since I had read somewhere once that soy has properties that mimic estrogen in the body. Perhaps this has been a breakthrough?
Some women have fantasies of hot firemen, cops, soldiers, etc. Mine have been reduced to the dream of a day without hot flashes. FML.
There. Got that off my chest. The ups and downs of the past week are borderline psychotic. Thankfully the pity party despair-fest earlier this week has given way to a freakish calm. I might even go so far as to say emotionally numb. Either that, or I'm feeling "normal" and have just forgotten what it's like.
Something new I've discovered about myself in the past few months is an inability to embrace full laziness like before. For example, today I stayed home from work out of sheer exhaustion, and rather than sleep, or actually relax, I cleaned, flipped the mattress, ironed the bed skirt....all kinds of ridiculous busy work. I mean, who the hell irons a bed skirt? Ok, so it was crazy wrinkly, and the pleats just weren't crisp, but still! This whole "productivity" drive is a bunch of crap!
Honestly, I can't think of anything witty, or funny, or even particularly snarky to write about. It's like this week has lead to a remarkably boring lull of everyday life. About the only thing remotely interesting is a blessed lull in hot flashes. I started drinking soy milk since I had read somewhere once that soy has properties that mimic estrogen in the body. Perhaps this has been a breakthrough?
Some women have fantasies of hot firemen, cops, soldiers, etc. Mine have been reduced to the dream of a day without hot flashes. FML.
Thursday, May 19, 2011
I miss my uterus.
The last few days have just been a complete roller coaster of moods and hormone madness. Monday I was a honey badger* - I just didn't give a shit. Cancer was a fucking cobra that bit my ass, knocked me out, and I woke up and kept on eating that bitch. I was ready to take a bite out of anything/one that crossed my path and taking names later. Fortunately, I limited my contact with the outside world, so my futon and the palm of my hand bore the brunt of my wrath (note to self: watch where the hell you put your hand when drilling through wood.)
Tuesday, I felt like a naked mole rat staked out in the middle of the desert. In August. Covered in syrup. With a herd of hungry honey badgers on the horizon. Yeah, THAT kind of vulnerable. EVERYTHING made me all weepy and start crying. Kids walking to the library after school, watching the prom episode of Glee (admittedly, there were a few scenes that were cry-worthy), just stupid shit. Tonight, that same feeling of vulnerability has been magnified tenfold. It's a miracle I can still see straight, and we won't talk about the status of my poor nose after all the blowing I've done in the last hour.
So why do I miss my uterus? Because it was a part of me. We had a relationship. Every few weeks I'd get a "gentle" reminder of just how attached we were. This tiny 9mm body part was mine and it was part of my identity as a woman. Women around me talk about their periods or pregnancy, or their kids, and I've got absolutely nothing to say. I'm completely disconnected from the women around me. It's not fair that I had to sacrifice having children just so I could live to see this Christmas. I've been incredibly blessed to have some of the best medical care in the world, and I have the love of family and friends holding me up. At the same time, I feel like no one really understands what I'm going through. I don't even think *I* know what I'm going through. Every day at work, I have to hold it together. I'm pretty sure none of my coworkers knows that almost every night I come home and at the very least get teary eyed. My family means well, but at times I feel like they can't comprehend how hard this is. Even with the fear of the cancer coming back aside, I'm in incredibly deep mourning over babies that I'll never have and trying desperately to hold on to the idea that I'm somehow still a woman, and that there's any kind of hope that there's a man out there that could ever consider taking on this physically and emotionally scarred half-woman.
Yes, I know this post has been a GIANT pity party of one. But like I said, I'm a hot mess of menopause hormone hell, also known as womb rage.
*for those not familiar with the honey badger: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4r7wHMg5Yjg
Tuesday, I felt like a naked mole rat staked out in the middle of the desert. In August. Covered in syrup. With a herd of hungry honey badgers on the horizon. Yeah, THAT kind of vulnerable. EVERYTHING made me all weepy and start crying. Kids walking to the library after school, watching the prom episode of Glee (admittedly, there were a few scenes that were cry-worthy), just stupid shit. Tonight, that same feeling of vulnerability has been magnified tenfold. It's a miracle I can still see straight, and we won't talk about the status of my poor nose after all the blowing I've done in the last hour.
So why do I miss my uterus? Because it was a part of me. We had a relationship. Every few weeks I'd get a "gentle" reminder of just how attached we were. This tiny 9mm body part was mine and it was part of my identity as a woman. Women around me talk about their periods or pregnancy, or their kids, and I've got absolutely nothing to say. I'm completely disconnected from the women around me. It's not fair that I had to sacrifice having children just so I could live to see this Christmas. I've been incredibly blessed to have some of the best medical care in the world, and I have the love of family and friends holding me up. At the same time, I feel like no one really understands what I'm going through. I don't even think *I* know what I'm going through. Every day at work, I have to hold it together. I'm pretty sure none of my coworkers knows that almost every night I come home and at the very least get teary eyed. My family means well, but at times I feel like they can't comprehend how hard this is. Even with the fear of the cancer coming back aside, I'm in incredibly deep mourning over babies that I'll never have and trying desperately to hold on to the idea that I'm somehow still a woman, and that there's any kind of hope that there's a man out there that could ever consider taking on this physically and emotionally scarred half-woman.
Yes, I know this post has been a GIANT pity party of one. But like I said, I'm a hot mess of menopause hormone hell, also known as womb rage.
*for those not familiar with the honey badger: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4r7wHMg5Yjg
Monday, May 9, 2011
An Epiphany?
I heard someone say, "With enough hard work and dedication, dreams can become a reality." I know it may sound trite, and we've all been told similar things before, but for some reason, tonight it really resonates with me.
You see, even under normal circumstances, it's scary to take risks. In the past few years, I've spent a lot of energy challenging fears. I was terrified to go back to school, after working for several years. Once I was there, I challenged my perception of my abilities to be successful in the sciences. Transferring to Seattle U, I took on my insecurities about my intellect. When I started at UW, I was shaking in my boots, surrounded by 50k other students, and not knowing a soul really shook me up. It would have been easy to just hide away, get my degree and leave, completely unnoticed. But I took a risk, and threw myself into making friends and connections. Then came choir. Not only did I face my fear of music (performing that is), I met some AMAZING people who encouraged and empowered me, and hopefully will be lifelong friends. In the end, I even achieved my goal of performing a solo (take that stage fright!!!) I was scared to graduate, and yup, did that too. Afterwards, even with all the challenges of finding a job, I took risks in applying for jobs that challenged me, and perhaps I wasn't even qualified for. In the end, I ended up with a great company, actually using my degree. Facing all these fears and negative perceptions of myself had built up an incredible amount of confidence and self esteem. My next plans and goals were to get married, make babies and live happily ever after with a minivan and maybe a shitzsu.
Then I was diagnosed with cancer.
No matter what achievements you've made, goals you've met, or dreams you've carried through your life, absolutely nothing hits you like being told you're dying. Just like the tsunami in Japan, my entire world was wiped out with one phone call. It didn't matter that I'd sung my heart out, earned 2 degrees, or that I had a shit ton of future plans and goals ahead of me. It was shattered. I suddenly went from the world being an open playground, to being a virtual slave to my body's limitations. I had no real choices, other than to do radical, life altering surgery. The whole, "yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death..." thing has some serious SHIT HOLE tourist attractions. I recommend skipping it on your next vacation.
So what do you do when you have no confidence left, your dreams are shattered, and you're trapped in a whirling vortex of fear, panic and terror? How do you break the paralysis of panic?
So, *big ginormous deep breath*, my new challenge: GET MY FUCKING LIFE BACK!! Since Feb 2nd, I've dealt with the first part of that, namely, kicking cancer in the gonads. Physically, I'm healed, although menopause is gonna be an ongoing pain in the ass! I've got my job back, and financially pretty much back on track. What's lingering now is letting go of the fear, and to regain my confidence to set and meet goals. I guess, even more important, I need to figure out a whole new identity for myself. Great, good to know it's something simple, right?
You see, even under normal circumstances, it's scary to take risks. In the past few years, I've spent a lot of energy challenging fears. I was terrified to go back to school, after working for several years. Once I was there, I challenged my perception of my abilities to be successful in the sciences. Transferring to Seattle U, I took on my insecurities about my intellect. When I started at UW, I was shaking in my boots, surrounded by 50k other students, and not knowing a soul really shook me up. It would have been easy to just hide away, get my degree and leave, completely unnoticed. But I took a risk, and threw myself into making friends and connections. Then came choir. Not only did I face my fear of music (performing that is), I met some AMAZING people who encouraged and empowered me, and hopefully will be lifelong friends. In the end, I even achieved my goal of performing a solo (take that stage fright!!!) I was scared to graduate, and yup, did that too. Afterwards, even with all the challenges of finding a job, I took risks in applying for jobs that challenged me, and perhaps I wasn't even qualified for. In the end, I ended up with a great company, actually using my degree. Facing all these fears and negative perceptions of myself had built up an incredible amount of confidence and self esteem. My next plans and goals were to get married, make babies and live happily ever after with a minivan and maybe a shitzsu.
Then I was diagnosed with cancer.
No matter what achievements you've made, goals you've met, or dreams you've carried through your life, absolutely nothing hits you like being told you're dying. Just like the tsunami in Japan, my entire world was wiped out with one phone call. It didn't matter that I'd sung my heart out, earned 2 degrees, or that I had a shit ton of future plans and goals ahead of me. It was shattered. I suddenly went from the world being an open playground, to being a virtual slave to my body's limitations. I had no real choices, other than to do radical, life altering surgery. The whole, "yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death..." thing has some serious SHIT HOLE tourist attractions. I recommend skipping it on your next vacation.
So what do you do when you have no confidence left, your dreams are shattered, and you're trapped in a whirling vortex of fear, panic and terror? How do you break the paralysis of panic?
So, *big ginormous deep breath*, my new challenge: GET MY FUCKING LIFE BACK!! Since Feb 2nd, I've dealt with the first part of that, namely, kicking cancer in the gonads. Physically, I'm healed, although menopause is gonna be an ongoing pain in the ass! I've got my job back, and financially pretty much back on track. What's lingering now is letting go of the fear, and to regain my confidence to set and meet goals. I guess, even more important, I need to figure out a whole new identity for myself. Great, good to know it's something simple, right?
Saturday, May 7, 2011
Living with Terror
I wish I could have just one day where I didn't have to think about cancer. The grief and mourning of my sterility is easing, but always in the back of my mind is the thought, "What if it's back?" Every ache and twinge makes me wonder if it's cancer. The physical euphoria I felt after the surgery has long since gone, and now I almost feel back to how I did before surgery. What I can't figure out is whether this is because the cancer is back, or if it's the stress and near-paranoia of thinking about the cancer being back. There's a bittersweet edge to all my joys. The edge of desperation has ebbed, but cancer is always there. I can sometimes go a day or two without having moments of tears at the back of my throat, but most days I have to fight back the emotional flood. I know on the surface, a lot of people don't see the chaos and turmoil simmering underneath, and I know it's my usual way of dealing - to hide away my pain until I can process it later. But my little emotional hiding place is just bursting at the gills.
My logical brain tells me that all of this is part of the aftermath of the last few months catching up with me. From a psychological perspective, you could say that I'm finally in a place where I'm ready to start processing everything I went numb to after I was diagnosed. I did have a bit of a breakthrough this week, and have come to realize that I'm finally ready and in a place to join a support group and do some counseling. I've known that it's something I've needed to do for awhile, but at the same time, I wasn't ready to be open to help. All the time at work, I tell people that they need to quit smoking in their own time and space, and I guess the same goes for me in dealing with cancer. I called my oncologist this week, and got some referrals, and there's a retreat in September I'm DEFINITELY planning to go to. My next step on Monday is to find a therapist that can help me get all these crazy and wild thoughts and emotions in perspective and under control.
So, while I'm incredibly thankful to whatever powers that be that I have most of my life back, I know that my journey through cancer isn't over yet - even if the diseased cells are gone. I hope.
My logical brain tells me that all of this is part of the aftermath of the last few months catching up with me. From a psychological perspective, you could say that I'm finally in a place where I'm ready to start processing everything I went numb to after I was diagnosed. I did have a bit of a breakthrough this week, and have come to realize that I'm finally ready and in a place to join a support group and do some counseling. I've known that it's something I've needed to do for awhile, but at the same time, I wasn't ready to be open to help. All the time at work, I tell people that they need to quit smoking in their own time and space, and I guess the same goes for me in dealing with cancer. I called my oncologist this week, and got some referrals, and there's a retreat in September I'm DEFINITELY planning to go to. My next step on Monday is to find a therapist that can help me get all these crazy and wild thoughts and emotions in perspective and under control.
So, while I'm incredibly thankful to whatever powers that be that I have most of my life back, I know that my journey through cancer isn't over yet - even if the diseased cells are gone. I hope.
Monday, May 2, 2011
Strength isn't always physical
I've never thought of myself as a particularly weak person. My mom will tell you I came out strong willed, with my own unique Grace way of doing things. As an adult, I've made my share of mistakes, but I've always been independent and self sufficient. Having cancer, and the resulting surgery has been incredibly humbling, but it's also given me a steel strength I didn't have before.
The humility has had to come both from emotional and physical sources. From a physical side, the first big slap of modesty flew out the window with the physical inability to care of myself. There's something about having people poking and prodding you, and really not having any way to care for yourself that makes you realize just how vulnerable you are as a human being. Having any sense of modesty stripped away as you're being bathed and wiped is embarrassing, but it's also strengthening. I actually didn't die of embarrassment and now I know that it's not as bad as I thought it would be, which, in a way made me confront a common human fear of being physically helpless.
Of course, that physical weakness has totally gone away (thank goodness! LOL!), but I feel like I have another strength that has developed that wasn't there before. I regularly tell myself, if I can kick cancer, I can do anything. It's not a superwoman invincibility complex, but more of a calm confidence that no matter what challenges I face in the future, none of them are going to be as terrifying and stressful as dealing with cancer has been. I saw my pcp a week or so ago to go over how to deal with menopause, and I told him how great I'd been feeling since the surgery, like I was on a high. He said, "Grace, there's very few things that someone your age faces that is as stressful as dealing with cancer. It's normal that when that stress is taken away, that you feel the way you do." Since then, I think my mood has started to swing back down to earth, and possibly slightly depressed, but I keep holding on to the idea that as long as the cancer doesn't come back, I can still achieve all the goals I have for myself.
It's really hard to describe what all the emotional impact of having cancer has done to me. I'm feeling like I'm finally in a place to start being able to deal with the fallout of cancer, and I'm still going through the grief process, which seems to ebb and flow. But it's really hard to do it alone, and I think I'm finally ready to join a support group and get some counseling to get it figured out. I know people told me right away to do that, but to be honest, I just wasn't ready to start coping, I was too busy just worrying about surviving. Now that my survival seems to be mostly assured, it's like my psyche is saying, ok, now it's safe to put your guard down and let yourself feel everything.
As hard as things have been emotionally, I'm just so glad to be feeling anything, even if it is sadness or fear sometimes. The numbness of those weeks after I was diagnosed was necessary, but not a place I ever want to be again.
The humility has had to come both from emotional and physical sources. From a physical side, the first big slap of modesty flew out the window with the physical inability to care of myself. There's something about having people poking and prodding you, and really not having any way to care for yourself that makes you realize just how vulnerable you are as a human being. Having any sense of modesty stripped away as you're being bathed and wiped is embarrassing, but it's also strengthening. I actually didn't die of embarrassment and now I know that it's not as bad as I thought it would be, which, in a way made me confront a common human fear of being physically helpless.
Of course, that physical weakness has totally gone away (thank goodness! LOL!), but I feel like I have another strength that has developed that wasn't there before. I regularly tell myself, if I can kick cancer, I can do anything. It's not a superwoman invincibility complex, but more of a calm confidence that no matter what challenges I face in the future, none of them are going to be as terrifying and stressful as dealing with cancer has been. I saw my pcp a week or so ago to go over how to deal with menopause, and I told him how great I'd been feeling since the surgery, like I was on a high. He said, "Grace, there's very few things that someone your age faces that is as stressful as dealing with cancer. It's normal that when that stress is taken away, that you feel the way you do." Since then, I think my mood has started to swing back down to earth, and possibly slightly depressed, but I keep holding on to the idea that as long as the cancer doesn't come back, I can still achieve all the goals I have for myself.
It's really hard to describe what all the emotional impact of having cancer has done to me. I'm feeling like I'm finally in a place to start being able to deal with the fallout of cancer, and I'm still going through the grief process, which seems to ebb and flow. But it's really hard to do it alone, and I think I'm finally ready to join a support group and get some counseling to get it figured out. I know people told me right away to do that, but to be honest, I just wasn't ready to start coping, I was too busy just worrying about surviving. Now that my survival seems to be mostly assured, it's like my psyche is saying, ok, now it's safe to put your guard down and let yourself feel everything.
As hard as things have been emotionally, I'm just so glad to be feeling anything, even if it is sadness or fear sometimes. The numbness of those weeks after I was diagnosed was necessary, but not a place I ever want to be again.
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