Category Archives: Treatment

Tamoxifen and Recending Hair

Posted in After treatment, Bumpboobs, Treatment by

So yesterday I stepped out of the shower and my hair was slicked back (I like to imagine I’m that girl in the waterfall and lush greenery and my hair is down to my butt) and catch a glimpse of my face in the steamy mirror.

I just about gagged.

My hairline has a startling V-shaped quality.  It’s not actually noticeable when dry and styled (though I did think to myself the other day that there were some rather empty patches). But when wet and slicked back – it’s startling. Geez Louise!! What, am I going bald?

“You’re not going bald.” My mom tells me, “but your hair is thin there.”

Thinning in my opinion, because I think it wasn’t always like this.

“Your horomoes are going a little crazy,” she continues, “and it’s normal for women’s hair to thin when that happens.”

As part of my post-treatment life I’m taking a drug called Tamoxifen. It’s blocks estrogen receptors, so all my lady hormones are in a mess – which may explain why my hair is fading on the edges like a man’s. Augh! But at least (and I’m very thankful) I don’t have any other side effects of Tamoxifen, cause it can be way worse than just a little hair loss.

Anyhow, you can’t notice when it’s dry. And I’m still growing it out, so maybe those places will eventually decide to stop messing about and grow in too. Who knows? All I think is that in 2 to 5 years, I’ll be off this Tamoxifen and remembering what it’s like to be estrogen receptive (and totally cancer free).

For now I need to place fighting cancer above thick hair. But nevertheless it was a surprise.

Anyhow – despite my slow-to-grow hair great things are happening. Tonight I’m going to a LookGoodFeelBetter, this weekend is the Mirror Ball, and I’ve also got a pass to the Breast Quest Film Festival.

Awesome, or awesome? Totally awesome.  

Full circle to the MRI

Posted in After treatment, Bumpboobs, Treatment by

Back from the MRI.

It was basically exactly like the previous MRI, except that instead of fainting and barfing I just burst into tears instead. Blah! Honestly this time the scan was no problem. But as the technician had me change and was asking questions about my kidneys – I asked him if Zsolt could join me for the IV insertion, and he said no, and I was like, well, it’s just that last time I passed out.

And bam. There go the tears.

But regardless of the trickle that kept leaking from my eye, the IV was put in (Zsolt could have joined me at this point, but in the end I went in alone.)  and I calmed down while waiting for the scan.

After that came about thirty minutes of loud bonks and zapping sounds (though I wasn’t actually zapped, but the noise gets to be like a discotheque after a while. The technician had told me not to move – not even a little – but with all the MRI techno beats, it was a little difficult not to at least tap my toes.

Now I’ve had enough with the scans and am hoping that no one from the hospital calls within the next week. That would be a good sign, right? Frankly, I have now had my share of tests. Clear results! That’s what I’m looking for.

And that was the MRI – no more dizzy dye, just memories that unexpectedly came flooding back.

After the hospital Zsolt and I hit up Little India, a restaurant in Ottawa and enjoyed their ass-kicking lunch buffet. Totally delicious, and a nice reward for a test well done.

🙂

A time to dance, hopefully

Posted in After treatment, Bumpboobs, Chemotherapy, Fun, Life, Travel, Treatment by

Friday, Friday – gotta get down on Friday. Tonight I’m going out, and hoping it’ll be fun, fun, fun because I’m looking forward to the weekend. With my friend in town (literally in town, she’s gone off sightseeing and I’m still at home taking it easy – this possibly makes me a bad host, but at least it prevents a severe case of the grumps. Seems to me that while I’ve recovered so much from what chemo changed, I still have no tolerance for long, hot walks on the heat-waving pavements of capital cities.) she’s requested we visit a real European nightclub.

Hmm. Real European night club? I’ve been to several clubs in Europe, all with a general vibe of ‘small hole-in-the-wall place to dance’ as opposed to the monster clubs you might get in, for instance, Cancun, Mexico.  So I believe this might be a case of reality not meeting expectation. However, another friend, a Hungarian friend, has promised to take us out on the town tonight – he has a club in mind that is, apparently, “Hungaricum”. Whatever that means! (Geez, I hope it’s not rude, but then he isn’t a fellow to be crass, so I’m guessing that whatever Hungaricum means, it’s a nice phrase).

Anyhow. Why is this night special? It’s special because I haven’t gone out dancing in over a year. More than a year. For ages!

First: will I remember how to dance? Meh, it’s not too hard, I’ll likely remember.

Second: will I stay awake? My general bedtime is 10pm, which is pathetic for a woman not yet thirty, but there you go. I love my bed, and my bed loves me. We have a close relationship.  So fingers crossed I’ve enough energy to shake my booty, at least till midnight.

Third: will it be a good night? Yes. That shouldn’t even be a question. It will, for sure, be a good night.

And then Saturday will follow Friday (duh), and we’ll sleep in and visit another spa. This time we’ll be going to Széchenyi Gyógyfürdő (http://www.budapestgyogyfurdoi.hu/hu/szechenyi/elerhetoseg) which is a beautiful old spa in the park area of Budapest. This will be Cami’s last day in the city, since on Sunday she’ll fly out, and hopefully it’s a nice end to her Hungarian experience.

And then (and then, and then, and then). . .  I’ll get back to the real world – sorta – and start figuring out this online lit mag idea I’ve been having. It’s an attempt to give breast cancer fighters, family, carers, friend a place for creative thinking. Should be good, if I can ever get it started!

And while I type this, Goofy the dog, is pushing her muzzle against my arm in a constant attempt for attention. I’d forgotten how sweet and earnest dogs can be; they’re happy balls of fur and slobber.