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  • Writer's pictureAndi Hasley

The bear - otherwise known as medication

My oncologist told me to "look up the cancer story about the mountain lion and the bear. Trust me. It will help." I love my oncologist - and she's got the best bedside manner so I looked it up - and she was right. It's the perfect metaphor for a cancer journey. If you didn't see it on my social media you can read it here. https://csn.cancer.org/node/299213?fbclid=IwAR3z0I6Uqyx161OGDAzRv6L91gapqZzGRK-q-258kFh9dWHn5VrVT9h7djw


Anyway - so the mountain lion, in my case is stage 0 DCIS. Some would consider it more of a lion cub - and I actually agree. Having a mammogram has, hopefully, prevented me from having to deal with a monster truck-sized mountain lion. Regardless, the lion cub still has to be dealt with, and it's not fun. In my case, after surgery and radiation treatments, in order to keep the rest of the family of mountain lions from returning to my house I am on a hormone suppressor called Tamoxifen. And it has been a bear. I debated sharing this part of my journey, but I figure if I am going to share the other parts of this mess I should also get down in the dirt. So here we go:


I started taking Tamoxifen on 9/12. For the first week I felt fine. A little sluggish at times, and I was always cold. But overall manageable. Then week two hit. My oncologist had warned me that the top two side effects are hot flashes and moodiness. So when, on day 10, I started feeling a little weepy I figured it was just part of the adjustment. However, on day 12 I was sobbing hysterically for no reason (anyone that knows me knows I am actually not much of a crier unless I am mad) and by day 14 I was having what I now realize are suicidal thoughts. (This is one of those times where I am actually grateful for the 30 trainings a year that school teachers have to take, because some of them have been on suicide awareness and prevention. Had I not had those trainings I am not sure I would've been as aware of what was happening.)

Anyway, my oncologist had also prescribed Venlaflaxine in case I would need it for the moodiness. I had tried it earlier in the summer (because cancer plus COVID has not been easy on my mental state) and it upset my stomach, but after the horrible thoughts going on in my head I decided it was worth the stomach pain. Within five hours I could feel my brain return to its normal state. Like someone had pulled a cover off of my head. It was wild. Yay! BUT-

Then the stomach pains returned. I couldn't eat. Wasn't sleeping. Headaches. All of these are typical side effects of Venlafaxine. But it was pure misery. The bear was wearing me down. Thank goodness my monthly appointment was two days later. Dr. Soltani said - "we are not doing this" when I told her about the mental madness that was happening. So now we have moved onto a half dose of the Venlaflaxine to see if it maintains my mental state without upsetting my stomach. So far, it seems to be o.k. but, like so many things, only time will tell.


If you have a friend or family member who's going through cancer, or any kind of major illness, be aware that the battle they are fighting on the inside might not be visible. They may appear to have survived four rounds with a mountain lion, and you might not understand why they aren't totally back to normal. Trust me - we aren't dwelling on the bad stuff that has happened. We are, more than likely, now fighting with a bear.


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