Becoming Benjamin Button

I haven’t seen that movie, but I feel Benjamin’s pain with premature aging. I don’t recall anyone telling me in the early days of this cancer “journey” that being thrown into menopause a decade earlier than normal would be such a bear. In fact, I don’t recall hearing anything at all about being thrown into early menopause. Yet another lovely bit of fallout from a cancer diagnosis, for sure (insert a boatload of sarcasm here).

Menopause is a bitch on any level. It’s certainly not a contest, and some women have it way worse than others. I’m thinking of one darling friend in particular who’s been dealing with the ‘pause for 10 years. Yuk. It just sucks, and I’m because I’m officially old and crotchety, I’m not in the mood to look on the bright side or try to find something positive about this shitty situation. Correction: I just found something positive — it gives me an excuse to use the word shitty, one of my faves in the cursing arsenal.

I first came face-to-face with chemically-induced menopause two summers ago when my favorite oncologist recommended hormone suppression since my breast cancer was fueled by estrogen. Get rid of the food supply, starve the cancer; makes perfect sense. Suppressing the estrogen for me was achieved by the dynamic duo of Tamoxifen and Lupron. For the lucky uninitiated, Tamoxifen is a pill-form of chemo that we members of the pink ribbon club take every single day for 5 years, minimum. The Lupron is delivered once every three months via a gigantic needle that left me bruised for weeks.

Enduring the injection was a piece of cake, though, compared to the side effects of Lupron: constipation, joint pain, bone pain, general body pain, dizziness, hot flashes, fatigue, stuffy nose, nausea, sweating, insomnia, weakness.

Great.

Add that to the side effects of Tamoxifen–bone pain, hot flashes, loss of balance or coordination, persistent fatigue or weakness, among the highlights–and you’ve got a hot mess.

No wonder I feel bad.

Then I look in the mirror and I feel even worse.

Side effects of menopause are just as fun as the drugs’ side effects: hot flashes, osteoporosis, hot flashes, mood swings, hot flashes, changes in your female gear, hot flashes, mood changes, hot flashes, change in vision, fatigue, hot flashes, night sweats, hot flashes, joint pain, hot flashes.

Did I mention the hot flashes?

The combination of the drugs’ side effects and general menopause side effects are mind-boggling.

The unsung side effects from all this mess are mostly vanity-related but no less troubling. A thinning of the hair on one’s head accompanied by a growth spurt in the hair on one’s face. Decreased collagen in the skin. Dry skin. Dark circles under the eyes. Brittle nails. Wrinkles. More wrinkles. Changes in hair color and texture.

Any part of this would be unpleasant enough when dealing with it at the “normal” time, whatever the hell normal is anymore. Going through the ‘pause with girlfriends could be fun: let’s stay up all night, sweating and hot-flashing, while watching our moustaches grow. Sure, we’ll be extra tired and grumpy the next day, but hey — we’d be tired and grumpy anyway, right? If I’m going to become an old bitty before my very eyes, I want to do it with my BFFs.

But wait, I’m on an accelerated schedule. I’ve got the Fast Pass to menopausal hell, while the women in my peer group are still relishing their early 40s. Botox is for fun, not necessity, and plucking billy goat chin hairs is reserved for grannies. 40 is the new 20, right? Except for me; 40 is the new 60. I am the granny in this scenario. I’m feeling more kinship with Betty White than with J-Lo.

To quote Sheryl Crow, “No one said it would be easy. But no one said it’d be this hard.”

 

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