Tamoxifen Nuclear Holocaust Shit Party!!!!

Evil shit this tamoxifen is. "more effective than chemo" they said. "Tylenol has worse side effects" they said.

Now I don't like Tylenol. It gives me a bellyache and makes my ears ring.
I'll take that over full blown nuts and rage any day.

I have a temper- but I'm finding with Tamoxifen- it's worse. and the last thing I want to do is take an anti-depressant. no way.
I am MEAN and I hate it.
My husband takes the brunt- my kids don't.
It's like the biggest stress inside and it is burning to get out.
I'm sure there's some anger leftover from my job loss, the sheer fear of losing my health insurance- life in general.
I didn't think Mary's death would affect me so much when I hadn't even talked to the girl in almost 20 years. It did. It burned in my head and I wondered as I looked at her facebook picture what she was thinking. She didn't smile much for any of her pictures- but there was so much in her eyes.
I could have been her. I might be her. I try not to be her. Someone I knew died from the same thing I had at the same age and that's fucking scary.
I had a good friend a long time ago named Andrea. (Bubblechick). She was 35 when she was diagnosed with cervical cancer- it went undiagnosed until it was too late- but man she fought like he dickens.
An Irish fighter with a heart of gold. She was ok-and wound up getting last rites twice because she wouldn't give up. In the end , she got a respiratory infection in the hospital (same hospital my father passed in) and took a turn for the worse. I came to see her and watched her eyes go back and forth between this and the other side. She looked me right in the eye- but couldn't talk- but I could feel her speak with her eyes-I sat with her friend Nick and him and I just held her hands for what seemed hours.

Andrea, Azalea and I -2003

That day was the last I saw her- she passed later on the next night. At the time- I was 26, had just had Azalea- and her age just seemed so far away. Now I am that age she was and I beat it.
She wanted to beat it - she was all ready to get a tattoo with a butterfly to symbolize cancer survival. The night she died, I sat and drew a butterfly for her- I still have it. I think it's time to get one for her since I got to cross the finish line. Her birthday is Feb 14th.
 I miss her- she was tough shit. and a huge inspiration.
Thinking about her and Mary and how young we are- oof- it hits home. a lot.
I want to live to 110. Be that lady who says fuck you cancer for the rest of her life.
I told my BFF Beth that being ripped apart by a pack of 3 legged pugs as a way to die would be the awesomest for me and to keep the memory alive with a laugh.
The year 2086:
"Did you hear Brianne kicked the bucket! 110 years old! wow"
"Was it old age or did her cancer come back?"
"Neither- she got ripped apart by a pack of three legged rogue pugs"
"She died from....Pugs? No way? I hate to laugh- but man..."
That would be the best. legacy. ever.

So I look at that evil Tamoxifen shit and see my kids and say "down the hatch". I'm doing this for THEM.
I'd battle constant nausea, insomnia, rages and risk uterine cancer to stay alive longer. Sure. Add it to the list of the chemo's side effects and we got a party of drugs and long lasting effects rivaling a Dead show in Vegas. Let's dance.

It's getting to me though- a lot.
The fear, the anxiety, the solitude and lonliness, the undefinite future, the crappy feeling when you see a breastfeeding mom, people staring at you, having hair like Lon Chaney Jr., boobs that look like deformed fried eggs- will they ever look right?... runs though my head all day long. Eventually folks get tired of it and start telling you "they are worried" about you.
People are officially worrying about me. I have arrived.

I WILL get to see my kids get old and have babies.
I WILL live.
I WILL make a point to make each day a pleasant gift.

To keep up these affirmations, I finally surrender to help. I need a third party to help me sort through it. When you have cancer, all these envelopes and mail and shit comes all day long. Forms, Insurance claims, denials, bills, etc. It is in your head too- thoughts are like medical mailings. THEY NEVER GO AWAY.
So I'm gonna get my head shrunk. NO drugs though.
There is a house here on the shore in Ocean Grove specifically meant for getting away, talking to people, get your nails done, cancer massages- and it's all free for any woman with or has beat cancer to just go and relax.
So I'm going. It's only a half hour away- right next to Asbury and I just need to get out of my head and house for a few days- for everyone's sake.
The recent trainwrecks of life have piled up and has started to make me crazy.
So I need to leave.
Just for a little bit.
I think everyone would agree. I would miss the hell out of my kids, and I hope there's not ghosts in the house. I see them!
It's great they have that house- and it's close and by the ocean and just great.
I can't wait.

Tamoxifen causes insomnia too - yay safe Tylenol. (as I pop another oxycodone to relieve the bone and rad burn pain and nagging early lymphedema.... maybe I can sleep finally)
Have a wonderful evening~
xo

ps- after this post , I googled "Tamoxifen rage". Explained. it wasn't just me. lol. Read this!