Injection #8 of 60: Just cruisin’

Here I am in the chemo chair — at my local cancer center you go to the chemo bays to get your injection — and I’m just icing my belly in preparation for my Zoladex injection that, in partnership with daily medication, keeps my body in deep, zero-estrogen menopause.

When I first started this regimen, I experienced intense:

  • Hot flashes
  • Night sweats
  • Insomnia
  • Joint pain
  • Numbness in my fingertips
  • Irritability
  • Fatigue

I even took one month off the daily medication (called exemestane) to see if the numbness would subside (it didn’t). However, I am happy to report that my side effects have either (1) diminished somewhat, or (2) I’ve just gotten used to them. 

I plan to jump my horse in a riding lesson after this. My fatigue, joint pain and insomnia are still significantly affecting my quality of life, but I am coping. Sitting here seeing the chemo patients every 28 days definitely helps orient me to gratefulness for my current condition.


Injection #7 of 60, with a dose of survivor’s guilt and a pinch of PTSD

Here I sit in the parking deck at the cancer center, about to get my monthly injection that will hopefully keep my cancer from returning.

I am overwhelmed by a bewildering swirl of emotions. 

My cousin and childhood playmate lost her husband to colon cancer last night. He was diagnosed 1.5 months ago and they are both in their 30s. She and I are the same age.

I spent a good 20 minutes of my day curled on the floor of my office sobbing, for a combination of pain for her, for him, for myself, for everyone who has been impacted by this fucking disease, and even at life itself for being so damn sweet.

We all cope in our own ways. Here is one of mine:

May we all find a little bit of peace today wherever we can. Please.