This girl is on FIRE!

Ah. Alicia Keys...love her...love the uniqueness of her songs. One in particular speaks to me lately, "Girl on Fire." (You can listen to it here.) But instead of being all cool and together like the woman Alicia sings about in her song, I am literally on FIRE (well, not literally...there aren't flames shooting from my fingertips or anything, but I feel like I'm about to burst into flames!) Oh, Tamoxifen! What are you doing to me??? You are evil and I hate you! One minute I'm cool and the next minute I'm stripping off my clothes, dripping wet with sweat. You are torturing me! The point is, I’ve already been through menopause. I hated the hot flashes then and I hate them now. But when my Oncologist said I'd experience some side effects with Tamoxifen, I had no idea I'd feel like I was in the midst of menopause all over again!

As cancer treatments go, Tamoxifen is a breeze, but a breeze that blows hot . . . like the Santa Ana winds. Compared to the pain and discomfort of surgery and radiation, a few hot flashes here and there are nothing to complain about. (For the sake of accuracy though, I will say that Tamoxifen does have other side-effects that are much more serious than hot flashes, some of which I am already experiencing. And then there are the ones that are much more rare, like blood clots, which I hope I never experience!)

Some people think that tamoxifen puts you into menopause, but that's not true. It simply causes menopause-like symptoms, such as hot flashes. It does reduce the production of estrogen, but does not stop it entirely. Tamoxifen is usually used for women who are pre-menopausal and aromatase inhibitors are usually used for post menopausal women. In my case, Arimidex, the aromatase inhibitor I was started on, was not tolerable at all so the doctor switched me to the old standby, Tamoxifen.

The first time I had a hot flash, I thought I was spontaneously combusting. I still feel that way even today. Taking off my shirt becomes imperative. When the hot flashes occur at night, as they usually do, stripping off my shirt is not a problem since I am at home and Phil has always enjoyed abrupt displays of semi-nudity. But in this case, these displays are nothing other than an attempt at cooling down. They are not an invitation to touch me! When my skin is so hot you could flash-fry bacon on my stomach, it’s best not to cuddle up to me or attempt an even friskier move. No, it would be best to just sympathize with me and murmur something appropriate and innocuous like “oh, you poor thing! Are you having another one?” and then back away slowly, avoiding eye contact. Do not touch! I repeat, do not touch!

Some hot flashes are strong enough to wake me up at night. One moment I’m dozing comfortably, burrowed under the covers like a normal person, and the next I feel as if someone has plugged me into an electrical socket. All of a sudden, I’m scrambling to get free of the sheets and blankets. After I cool down, I pull the covers back up . . . until the next flash comes along. This cycle continues all through the night and by morning, the bedclothes are twisted and gnarled, half on the bed, half on the floor. Poor Phil! He hasn't been sleeping well lately. I wonder why?

About a month ago, when temperatures first dropped below freezing at night, we were in bed. He looked over at me with covers pulled up to his chin as the ceiling fan was whirring overhead. There was a questioning look in his eyes that seemed to say, “Are we EVER going to be able to turn on the heat again?” As I locked eyes with him, I squinted, with the don't EVEN GO THERE look. As I turned over, I whispered, "just think of all the money we're saving on the heating bill!" Of course, he didn't hear me because he had already dug in and was fast asleep.

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