It’s been two years since my cancer was excised from my
right boob. Excised. I really like that word…sort of brings Linda Blair
and her spinning head with green vomit scene to memory. And THAT my friends is what going through
breast cancer treatment is like. An
exorcism.
Two years later, and I am in full on menopause. I've been tested and it is scientific fact
that I’m all dried up. I think that is
exactly what the lab results had printed out.
Hormonal diagnosis: all dried
up.
My hair is thinning to the point of needing a comb over. You know how the smart balding men just shave
their heads to hide/own the fact that there is an issue? Brilliant in my opinion and so I've joined the
company of Dr. Phil, Gandhi, Telly Savales and Elmer Fudd. Oh, and let’s not forget Brittney Spears
during her freak out moment.
Memory issues, also known as “Chemo Brain”, are my main
concern. At least it is when I remember
that it’s a problem. There are times
when I can’t comprehend a Dr. Seuss book, let alone my boss’s direction. “Tell me again” is a phrase that I use often,
which is sometimes followed by, “again…say it again”. My least favorite part is when I get the eye
roll in response. I know it’s
frustrating to talk to a floating balloon, but sometimes that is what my head
is. Sadly, I have to say, “get used to
it” because according to my doctor, it’s a slow process to recover from. I've got another year of this brain fog. The chemo kills off the cancer cells, but it
also kills off the healthy cells. Healthy
cells that used to make sense of the words Green Eggs and Ham, now just
scramble up and leave me thinking, “I should buy eggs.”
I'm also very fat. I am putting some of this on the chemo brain, because I honestly think that I forget that I need to diet. I'll be 100% focused and then *poof* a piece of chocolate is in my mouth. Shit...I'm on a diet...shit...where did these cookies come from? Oh, who wants birthday cake? Me! Shit, no...I don't. Why don't I? Sure, cut me a slice. It's a battle that I have to conquer. My mother tells me that I'm fat. I see it in the mirror. My primary care doctor tells me that my GERD will go away if I lose 20 pounds and the workplace biometric screener lady told me, just yesterday, that I need to lose 4 inches off of my waist. Okay, okay, okay...I get it. I'll focus!
Do I smell bacon?
Surely, I’m thankful to just be here free and clear of the
BigC and I know that had it been 75 years ago, my sisters in this fight would
be thrilled to have a dried up uterus, chrome dome and vague memories of what
just happened 10 minutes ago.
See you back here soon if I can remember my log in
information.
