My Life on Lupron

*If you're just joining me, or have come aboard in the last couple of months, I have severe endometriosis. I've already had a radical hysterectomy at the age of 27. Since last fall, I have been in a lot of pain because of a reemergence of my endometriosis that we've found to be inoperable because of the locations of the endometrials. Now, I'm on a six month course of Lupron - a drug that shuts off all estrogen production/targets estrogen cells - to kill these little clusters of hell. 



Lupron is the effing devil.

I'm going into week three or four of Lupron and this shit is making me insane. Certifiably. I think?

Apparently, it feels weirder if you've had a hysterectomy. You get to actually feel it attacking the endometrials. I think it's like the "pew-pew" battles seen in Star Wars. Imagine tiny ships shooting little lasers into the endos, okay? They just load that little estrogen cell filled thing up with medicine, it gets full to bursting, then BOOM! They knock the hell out of that thing, draining all of the estrogen out and save the day!

The pew-pew fight moves on to another endo and the battle resumes. Some of the endos fight back, and that's when the swelling occurs. Can you tell I've had time to think about this?

Lupron puts you in menopause, which I'd already be in, but I went off of my meds for that keep me out of it.

Menopause and I don't mix, okay?

I'm having hot flashes that make me wish the Polar Vortex was still hanging out. Meanwhile, everything outside is swampy feeling. I get that I live near a damn swamp, but does the air have to feel so freakin' offensive? It's not just hot, it's like I step into a wet towel fresh out of the sauna from hell.

My apartment's thermostat is set to 75 degrees to keep the other inhabitants comfortable. However, all ceiling fans are going full blast at all times. I'm guilty of sticking my head in the freezer, sticking the ice pack thingies under my knees or arms to cool down, and yelling to an empty apartment, "Just stop moving! I have to cool off!"

I want to move to Antarctica.

I'm saying stuff out loud without meaning to. You know, more than usual. That self editing thing I'm really bad at? Oh God, it's just gone, if it was ever there. I've asked the kids to breathe quietly, to stop smiling so loudly, and then apologized. I've told the dog she's too fat, the cat that she's an embarrassment to felines, and then cried. I've told my husband he can't touch me, then cried when he didn't hug me. I've cried over insurance commercials.

To add insult to injury, my stupid hair is falling out and coming in gray. I'm pretty sure this crap is getting chopped off. Not that this is an irrational decision (ahem, people who have said that).

You see, I'm a hot flashin' mess. Not literally a hot "flashing" mess, but a hot flashin' mess. Whatever.

And the food. Oh, wow... the food. I'm going to turn into a Lemon Creme cookie before this is over with. Or a container of Hagen Daaz Salted Caramel ice cream. I have very little willpower.

Just a snack

I'm so damned ragey. I have rage. I can't write about it, or much else, though, because my brain ditched me somewhere around the time that damn needle was put into my buttcheek.

I have these thoughts? And when I think them? They sound awesome. Then, when I write them down? I can't decipher (see what I did?) them sober or drunk. Not that I'm getting drunk, because that causes more friggin bloating and less operational thinking.

So, what do I do with this rage? I thank baby Jesus in swaddling clothes that I'm on Prozac every single day and I try to stay away from the general public. True story.

It's been easy to stay away from the public for the last couple of weeks because it's either been raining or I've been so swollen, I've needed to stay inside. I can't waddle to the pool. But, with sunnier weather on the way and these fluid pills finally working, that hermit plan is kind of over. I need to remember, "inside voice."

I also make really awful memes. You're not seeing them because they, well, suck.

See?

Let's just hope that that the remaining five months of this crap are quick, without incident, and my kids finally get to go swimming because they have to get out of the house and stop leaving Legos and trains everywhere. 

I also need to keep, "Jessi, inside voice," on loop in my brain, I suppose. 

Sometimes, this female crap sucks. 

Normalizing an Uncomfortable Discussion

This month is Breast Cancer Awareness Month.

This post isn't actually about that. However, this this is, much like others before it, about taking care of you.

I have zero clue as to what the hell is going on with me. The doctors are trying to sort that out. I go in for a test that I didn't think I'd even need for another decade (I'm almost 31)- a colonoscopy. Apparently, I have a higher risk of fun things like colon and stomach cancer due to it running on my dad's side or something. I say "or something" because I don't really know much about my medical history on that side of my family other than my grandfather died from stomach cancer and colon cancer, and that my father has had stage one polyps or something to that effect.

I don't know much about my medical history on that side because I don't have contact with that side. I refer to that side as The Dark Side. 

So, why am I choosing to blog about this? Because, ladies (also known as general readership), it's time to take care of you. 

This isn't about your kids, but it is, it's about you. All this month, hospitals across the United States will be offering free mammograms. Go get one. Especially if you have a genetic risk. Or even if you don't.

Schedule a colonoscopy before you think you're of age to do so and, especially, if your insurance covers it. Most plans considers the latter a preventative health measure. Did you know that?

If you stand a genetic risk for either, getting one of these would be an excellent idea. If you don't, talk to your doctor. I did some Googling and found out that colon cancer is oftentimes not found until it's bad. Really bad.

Mammograms are outrageously expensive, I get that, hence me mentioning free mammograms.

The most important thing we can do, as moms, is to take care of us. This isn't something trivial like get a mental health break (though, that isn't trivial at all, really). I'm talking getting that yearly physical. Keeping at least a semi healthy diet (don't glare at me, I can feel the glares.. and, I love bacon, okay?), exercising (also hate), etc. I'm also talking about keeping up that yearly pap smear, something I've been guilty of allowing to fall by the wayside.

Women's health is important.

We need to openly talk about this stuff in order to normalize it so that it doesn't feel shameful or abnormal when a 30 year old mother of two has to get a colonoscopy. Or a hysterectomy. Or a mammogram.

This is about us being around long enough to raise our kids, and then see our grandkids, if we're lucky enough to be blessed with them.

We aren't infallible.

We aren't invincible.

We fall.

We need to fix that if we're going to be superwomen.

Our children need us and we need them. Let's get to work on all of this, shall we?