This has been a very rough week for my cancer treatment. After a successful surgery, a low oncotype dx test result which eliminated the need for chemotherapy and sixteen radiation treatments that were classic textbook experience, I figured I was on the downside of this mountain that had thrust itself in my path five months ago. All that was left was a little pill to take each day, an Aromase (Estrogen) Inhibitor to prevent the fueling of any recurrences. A piece of cake. After all, I had dealt with estrogen inhibitors before. In my late thirties I was battling a stubborn case of recurring endometriosis. My doctor prescribed a different inhibitor to essentially shut down my ovaries and keep that nasty bugger at bay. It went beautifully with no side effects and eventually transitioning me into menopause. In my mind this would be no different.
I couldn't have been more wrong. After nineteen days of taking Anastrazole, the side effect train arrived this past weekend, barreling into town fully loaded and aimed right at me. At first it was a gentle cough, annoying but not debilitating, usually popping up in the late evening. Insomnia was the next issue, allowing me to get to sleep but only for short intervals. I spent hours staring at the ceiling, listening to gentle music, not allowing myself dark thoughts...all to no avail. The body aches were next, stabbing shots through my knees and ankles, gradually working their way up to my neck and shoulders. Then came the nausea, waves and waves of it, peaking on Sunday. Smells of Brendan cooking meals downstairs were cues for my stomach to turn somersaults. Needless to say, I skipped the visual and tasting experiences. Serious depression (another side effect) was closing in. THAT was when I said "NO MORE" and stopped taking the Anastrazole. I left my doctor two messages on MyChart, called the office Monday morning (Who knew it was a holiday...I can't even tell you what day of the week it is) and on Tuesday got verification that stopping was the right decision.
It has been four days since I stopped and am still wracked with neck pain, have developed Angioedema (a series of hive-like welts on my legs and torso), experience pop-out-of-nowhere periods of nausea and depression throughout each day, become fatigued just doing nothing, and am still dealing with the nagging cough. I recently bought a new FitBit, and according to its sleep manager I still can't manage a decent sleep score above 6o percent. I know this medication has a long half-life which means it will take a while to get out of my system but it really needs to happen SOON.
Thankfully, my oncologist seems to be on board with this process. His office called to set up a "Tele-Health" appointment for mid-May where I can outline my problems and we will come up with another option. I suspect he is waiting until then to allow the full set of effects to hop that train and get OUT of town. I would love to sit down with him in person but this damned virus makes that just too risky.
This has, by far, been the worst part of the journey from the moment I was told about these tumors. I hoped that this would be the climb out of the abyss not the hellish nightmare it has instead become. I have reached out to other women via Facebook (would you believe there are actually two support groups for Breast Cancer patients taking this drug?) and their experiences are often quite similar. Sadly, a few have said that their oncologists are insisting they stay with the medication. My advice to them was to find a new oncologist. No one should be put through this hell, regardless of the outcomes. The thought of spending four or five years in this state of misery is totally unacceptable. Life is too short.
I apologize for the "Debby Downer" tone of this blog post. But I believe in the principles of Full Disclosure. If I am going to document this episode in my life, it has to come with all of the scars and pimples. I feel extremely fortunate to have had a relatively easy trip through this Chamber of Horrors. My procedures and outcomes have gone well. I dodged a LOT of bullets. I have an incredible medical team, as well as a support system of family and friends that I give thanks for every day. This is not a journey I chose to take but, since I was given no other option, I need it to be as much an expression of me as possible. That means including the high points as well as the occasional low, like this.
This too will pass...there is a solution out there for this problem. With time, prayer, and the diligent efforts of my team, we will find it. And the good times will return.
No comments:
Post a Comment