All Pinked Out

Yesterday someone asked me if I had died. They reminded me that I have not posted anything since April 26th. So here I am, but I have to forewarn you that this is a depressed animal “unleashed” with her thoughts.

The drug Tamoxifen turned me into suicidal and homicidal “bitch”(it is socially acceptable for me to use that term as I am a poodle) The oncologist has taken me off those pills for a month. After that period of time other medications will be explored. Senor wandered around the kennel looking like Ben Affleck in Gone Girl in that scene where Ben retreated to his bedroom, with his cat, and locked the door. He had just come to the realization that he was living with a maniac. Ben, not Senor. Maybe I am not so sure.

The radiation oncologist felt a lump in THE OTHER BREAST when she examined me eight weeks  post treatment. Even though I was in the express lane for a mama gram and an ultrasound, we had a week of anxiety waiting for the tests, and what turned out to be nothing to worry about. Now that the left girl has had some medical procedures and attention, I hope that she will leave me alone. I think that the doctor came up with that lump thing to put me off when I was asking if I would have a sore arm, and sensitive right breast forever. She never really gave me an answer.

I am tired of being the brave, smiling little soldier. Somehow many  cancer patients feel it is their duty to be positive and put on a good act, but in fact we are worried, angry and depressed. That is where I am right now. I have been offered anti depressants but have put them off with the hope that attending aqua fit three times a week will help with the depression. I am not sure if it is doing the job mind wise, but I can certainly see the physical difference in myself. A month ago I could not walk up one flight of stairs at the CC without pain and soreness. Now I can go up those stairs like a semi bouncing puppy. I have watched the movie Still Alice to remind myself that things are not that bad. I am only undergoing treatment for breast cancer. My memory loss is supposed to be temporary. I also attempt to treat my depression with hot fudge sauce therapy. It is something that I have turned to for most of my life. One heaping tablespoon of Sanders once a day. Forget the ice cream.

Now, while I am “bitching”….I still have that chemo brain thing going on. Our neighborhood book club selection this month was “Beach House” by James Patterson. The other day I was talking to one of the members and I was asking what she thought of the story line, and discovered that I was reading the wrong book. Yep, I am trying to finish “Lake House” by James Patterson in time for the meeting on Wed night. Dah….Should make for an interesting discussion. Go ahead, laugh.

So, I will close with the thought that two of the important things in life are love and a good sandwich.