A Future Full of Naps and Void of Cancer

This morning as Maddie and I were discussing my future surgeries, she asked me if the doctors would put something inside me to keep cancer from coming back. I explained that the answer was no, the chemo had already done that. Plus, I explained that my Tamoxifen pills were to help the cancer not come back.

She liked this answer so much she wanted to see the pills. They aren't impressive. Just white little aspirin-looking things. She asked if they tasted funny and I said they didn't have a taste--which led to her immediate comparison of my Tamoxifen to salad (her least favorite food).

As any of you who've been around me lately know, I hate the Tamoxifen. I hated it when I took it for two months in 2005 when we found out I was high risk for breast cancer and I hate it now. I have a fellow breast cancer survivor tell me that she tells herself every day when she takes hers: "Today I have prevented cancer." And I think I might have to start doing this myself.

The reason Tamoxifen--which bears an unfortunate resemblance to my name--is so loathed by me is that it has robbed me of my energy (which wasn't so great to begin with) and is destroying my already compromised memory and ability to concentrate. I can deal with the hot flashes, it's the constant desire to crawl back into bed that makes me crazy. I'm convinced that I could sleep for the next 24 hours and still wake up tired tomorrow.

So I have begun an all-out war against this sleepiness by trying to eat better, consume more water, exercise, drink my weight in coffee and take an occasional cat nap--which, might actually prevent cancer as much as Tamoxifen itself (well, if you take the coffee out of the equation). I mean, think about it: plenty of sleep, vegetables, water, exercise ... these will all help my body in the long run. Thus fighting the side affects of Tamoxifen may be helping me as much as the Tamoxifen itself. So maybe I have to be grateful for this.

But it did occur to me today, that given I'm on my third bottle and the fatigue hasn't let up, this sleepiness and passion for napping might just be part of my life for the next five years that I'm on the drug. So, I need to stop beating myself up for this and begin to think of it differently. Not as a weakness, but as a sign that my body is fighting cancer. Tamoxifen is, after all, considered chemotherapy. (Weird, but true ... any chemical that helps the fight against cancer is considered chemo in the medical community whether it's a red intravenous liquid that makes your hair fall out or a tiny white pill that makes you sleepy, because it's simply "chemical-therapy.")

So, here's to five years, or approximately 58 more months, of preventing cancer and taking naps! And, with that, I'm going back upstairs to bed ...