Poor Nelly. Little did he know that his chart-buster would make such an apt Lupron anthem! That is, until you get to the lyrics. The steaminess oozing from that song has about as much in common with a lupron-induced menopause as does a Himalayan yak with a chessboard.
Tomorrow, I will take my second (and hopefully last ever) Depot-Lupron injection. While my symptoms haven’t been as rabid as I expected them to be, I look forward to saying goodbye to killer headaches and those ridiculous hot flashes. One moment I’ll be the picture of serenity sitting with some friends over dinner and the very next moment I look like someone who’s just emerged from a Bikram Yoga class. And then there’s the morning fatigue. I don’t know if this is a common side effect or not but for the past month getting out of bed in the morning has held about as much appeal as the thought of skinny dipping in sub-zero weather. Once I’m up and about, though, it’s all good.
Of course, as far as K is concerned, there’s just one side effect of Lupron. It’s kindly titled ‘the return of the psycho shrew’. We’ve been squabbling like a pair of newly-weds over just about everything. All it takes is for me to discover some shaving gel on the bath counter or for him to say something like ‘babe you never keep my water bottle filled’ and it’s like I morph into a crazy, fishwife version of myself complete with door-slamming, yelling and full-on histrionics thrown in for good measure. The poor man sits silently while the gale storm that is his wife exhausts her fury and finally subsides into intermittent sobs. I swear (s.w.e.a.r) it’s the medicine making me cuckoo. It’s like I can observe it happening the way you would observe a chem-lab experiment go horribly wrong. I’m helpless though to control it. It’s exhausting, not just for K but for me too!
On a different note, I’ve been going for yoga pretty regularly. My new-found love affair with yoga is pretty ironic considering how inflexible I am. The good thing about my yoga studio is that it gets all types of people (and not just crazy fit LA types clad in second-skin spandex doing downward dog with all the agility of a bendy straw) so I don’t feel quite at sea when I’m unable to hold on to my heels with both hands while my body is bent and head is thrown backwards in camel!
My eyes continue to feel vacuum cleaned. I went back to my eye doctor and he still insists on a gentler approach. I’ve had no luck getting him to prescribe me something stronger but he has agreed to try out his patented non-medicated dry eye treatment (he’s a dry eye specialist) with me, starting tomorrow! I couldn’t be more excited. My eyes have felt so sore and so tired; I’m ready to start feeling better!
Exactly 7 weeks left until transfer. Time is crawling by and yet, I know, the day will be here soon enough and that makes me sick with excitement and nervousness!