So, since I had my reproductive bits and bobs removed back in February,
I've been experiencing the joy and wonder that is menopause. At age thirty-six. Which is about, oh, fifteen years earlier than I should be experiencing said joy and wonder.

As you might imagine, ever since, I've been banging on with my doctors about getting on HRT, or Hormone Replacement Therapy. They haven't wanted me to go on it because, and I quote, "the estrogen could make your endometriosis flare." In some cases, like mine, estrogen acts as poison. It would make sense that they would want to limit the potential damage by very carefully reintroducing the same chemical that gave me cancer. But they held out hope: the minute I got off chemo, I could go on it because it was unlikely the endometriosis would survive the chemo. I've been waiting and waiting. It's been the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel. No more hot flashes. No more sleep troubles. No more weeping and wailing. I could get through the ungodliness of chemo just to get to the good stuff.

Fortunately for me, I didn't have to wait that long. When Dr. Academic and I chatted last week, before my last treatment, he brought the subject up and asked if I wanted HRT, saying that he would be highly surprised if the endometriosis would be able to survive four treatments of chemotherapy. Dumbstruck, completely caught off-guard, I emphatically nodded yes. He said, "Ok, we'll get you going."

What did he put me on, my devoted Cake Eater readers? Would it be the bioidentical hormones I'd been reading so much about? Would it be some non-equine hormone variant of premarin? Oooh, ooh, Mistah Kottah? Don't keep me in suspense!

Well, the next question out of his mouth threw me for a loop. "Did Orthotricyclen have a low-dose when you were on it?"

Did Orthotricyclen have a low-dose? Orthotricyclen is the pill, ain't it? He's not actually suggesting.... "Uh, no. Just the regular dose. "

"Did you like it?"

"Well, not really. It was too much, if you get what I'm saying. I broke out all the time and gained weight. A lot of weight. That sort of thing."

He nodded. "Ok, well, that's good to know. This'll keep your skin clear and you shouldn't have the weight issues. Lots of women just take it because they won't break out." He bent down, pulled a pen and his prescription pad out of his pocket and scribbled off a prescription in his quick and highly illegible writing.

The absurdity of it hit me and I had to laugh. "I don't have a reproductive system any more and YOU'RE PUTTING ME ON BIRTH CONTROL?"

He simply grinned. "Low-dose birth control," he clarified, "but, yeah, birth control. Funny how it works out sometimes, eh?"

Heh.

Posted by: Kathy at 09:22 AM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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Ovarian cancer sucks.

Ovarian cancer treatment sucks.

But, to be clear, it ain't all bad.

And why isn't it all bad, you ask?

Well, because there's percocet in the world.

That makes up for an awful lot in my book.

The most blessed of molecules.

Posted by: Kathy at 03:34 PM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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While I still have eyebrows.

Even though the flash kind of washes them out and you can't really see them, well, I know they're there.

Pretty bitchin' tan/hair line, no? I can't get the top of my pate tanned for love or money. It just won't do what I tell it to do.

It's acting very much like the hair that used to occupy that space. Go figure.

Sigh.

I can't wait for my hair to grow back.

*Spot the quote and you'll receive a bonus prize. Well, no, you won't, but you can bask in the admiration of your fellow commenters who got it wrong or didn't know it. Which, my devoted Cake Eater readers, is really all the recognition you'll need in a lifetime, no?

Posted by: Kathy at 09:00 PM | Comments (9) | Add Comment
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