So I’ve actually had a lot to say over the last couple of weeks, but I was working my rear off, getting ready for vacation, and then staying off of the computer out of respect for my boys while I was actually on the vacation.
Our trip was wonderful. It was the first vacation I’d had since the trip to the Oregon coast last July, and we went to Boston, where we showed the kid where the sidekick and I met, and took him to dip his toes in the Atlantic for the first time in the sidekick’s hometown. We saw tons of history, which is a passion of mine, and went to both Fenway Park and Gillette Stadium, which is a passion for my boys.
I love, love, love Boston, but I hate, hate, hate the weather. For 9 days, other than the emotions, relaxation, all of that, there was one constant word for the way I felt. Moist.
Moist is an icky word if you really think about it. I know several people who have a visceral reaction to the word. But I have never sweat so much in my entire life. I’d been in Boston in the summer before, but this was just way worse. Not sure if it’s my current weight, hot flashes, or just the humidity that New England was experiencing, but it was nasty.
So although I LOVED the vacation, I got to unplug, I was really glad to get home to Seattle. Work, maybe not as much, but we have to pay for the trip somehow, right? And my husband got to see friends who we haven’t seen since before my monkey (who turns TEN today) was born… I don’t think we want to go that long with out a visit again.
Yesterday, I did something else that I haven’t done since last August. I purchased, and wore, and underwire bra. After wearing said bra for several hours, I’m a little lost on why I was so excited for that torture again, it was stiff and itchy compared to the stretchy ones I’ve been wearing, but it made the lumps on my chest resemble boobs again, at least under a shirt.
I’m not sure how I feel about the bra. I’ve had a love/hate relationship with them for so long, and my old bras were truly feats of engineering. Now I don’t HAVE to wear a bra… or at least I don’t think I will once my boobs are back in the shape I expect. I’m thinking of the underwire as more of a jello mold. Something to remind them where they’re supposed to go… since until now they’ve been going flat against my chest.
The morning before I left, I had another appointment with SCCA, but this time with a Gyn. We’re getting to the TMI point here, so please feel free to stop reading or skip the next two paragraphs!
I was there to talk about a side effect of Tamoxifen. My best description of this side effect is that it’s felt like I’ve had a yeast infection for the last 6 months. Turns out, at the moment, I actually DO have a yeast infection (hence, the thing that would be better left in bread). I’ve always gotten them rather easily… a couple of the different birth control pills I tried in college used to have me get them once a month before my period. But back then, I had a period at the end. Something that made it go away.
So I’ve got a prescription to deal with the actual yeast, but I’ve also got a second prescription that will provide local estrogen. If you’ll remember, I take Tamoxifen to get rid of the estrogen in my body, so I can’t do the estrogen replacement stuff that many women take to deal with menopause. It would kind of defeat the point. But evidently, if I PUT A PILL IN MY VAJAYJAY then it’s OK. I’m still not sure entirely how I feel about this, since part of what I wanted to avoid was having to put those ovule things in all of the time for yeast, but I’m tired of it burning every time I pee, and coming away with blood on the TP, even when I blot.
OK- It’s safe again.
The last thing to update, it was a year ago this week that I found the lump. July 5, 2012. I just re-upped my subscription for breastcancerninja.com, so I hope you’re all still enjoying my vanity URL. I know, I’m so vain. 🙂
But when I really look back over the past year, I have to refer back to my constant refrain. I’m really pretty effing lucky. The worst things I’m dealing with, less than a year after my diagnosis, are figuring out how to deal with curly hair, that underwire bras are itchy (duh) and uncomfortable girl parts. No, not loving those (esp the last one) but when I’ve had friends who have had to deal with things like radiation, extended chemo, even losing loved ones, I just remind myself that it could be so, so much worse. I’m here to celebrate my son’s 10th birthday, something that I was afraid might not happen just last year.
As some of the ads in the T stations in Boston said, I had cancer. Cancer doesn’t have me.