Going Rogue is in Vogue

We are messing with my Meds. Which means we are messing with my hormones. Which means trouble. While I say ‘we are messing with my meds’ in a chavilar fashion, I’d like to make it clear it is with the full permission of my Specialist and Nurse, I have not gone rogue.

My cancer was oestrogen sensitive which means, in short, that my type of cancer feeds off of a hormone being produced by my body, which is a bummer. I am very fortunate that there is a pill that can suppress oestrogen production. I am very grateful for it and I’m very, very lucky that I have this option. However, what this means is that my body and these pills have been waging an internal war for about 18 months now. There is always collateral damage in war and the side effects (for me, not everyone) have felt pretty brutal.

Until about a month ago I’d not had a decent night sleep in 2 years ( I know new parents, neither have you, but my Pills don’t redeem themselves by giving me kisses or giggling at my funny faces), coupled with leg cramps, a clouded mind and crippling hot flushes 4 times hourly, I was getting a little down – depression is another side effect.

So I got parole, 3 months off the meds and it’s eye opening. I have a brain again, can concentrate on reading and writing, can swim for longer, I laugh more and for the first time in ages can go out late, dancing, no less. I feel like I’m finding myself again (well not again), finding the new person on the other side of all of this and it’s exciting and a little weird. I feel like a human, an actual human, not an automaton.

Not that flooding my body with hormones again hasn’t had it’s own issues. Remember when you look back at the cringe inducing teenage diaries you wrote, or observe a pack of teens all awkward in a park? You know how you sign and think to yourself, “you could not pay me enough to be that age again” ? Well, I have a feeling that this rush of hormones is plunging me distinctly into the teenage zone. Only now, at my age, it feels AMAZING though somewhat confusing and yes, socially awkward at times.

I’m enjoying freedom, I’m enjoying freedom so much I’m not quite sure how I’m going to go back to jail again. The Specialists like to quote statistics, it’s all about projected years of life VS cancer VS my age, at least I think that’s what they talk about. I cannot keep the information in my head. Not in my usual ditzy way, I simply can’t try and live a normal-ish life with that information in my head. They’ve told me these stats at least 10 times now and each time, Poof! gone by the following week.

You want to know the craziest thing? The pills give me a 1 to 2 percent extra bit of protection, just 1 to 2 percent!

So I’m trying to figure out if I live life to the fullest, happiest, joy fuelled-ness and live without the extra 1 to 2 percent chances or do I go back to a greyer, safer, tougher way of living? I guess writing it like that you can see the way I’m swaying. Yet, what do I do with the guilt? if it comes back, for the people who don’t have the opportunity of the wonder pill? But what if I take the pill and it comes back anyway but my days haven’t been quite as sunny?

Answers on a postcard please!