I don’t know if it’s the Tamoxifen or my age, but I’m slowing down a bit. Yesterday I went out for brunch to celebrate my birthday, and when I came home I watched television for about an hour before I eventually succumbed to a three-hour nap. I couldn’t bring myself to get off the couch to go see our school play (that many of my students had been asking me to go see #guilt), so I continued to watch television on the couch until about 8. At that point, I decided to move my horizontal situation to my bed, and I spent about an hour of my Saturday night reading a textbook on literature and composition before I once again slipped into slumber. I woke up at 4:30 AM, but then fell back asleep, finally coming into consciousness at 10:30 AM. This is my life.

I’ve gained 30 pounds since my lightest weight during chemo treatments. I swear I don’t eat any differently than I used to. I’ve always had a voracious appetite, but my metabolism can no longer keep up. I am a post-menopausal woman now, and I am not doing enough to combat the physical consequences of this. It’s a good thing that my cancer was hormone-induced because there are clear-cut ways to prevent a recurrence. Have a tumor that’s fed by estrogen and progesterone? Cool, you’ll just take meds that suppress the production of those hormones. Chop off your tits; take this pill; you’re good. The main side effects of that pill, though, are weight gain, loss of libido, and hot flashes. I would also add “complete inability to handle people who drive 60 in the left lane of Highway 40” to that list. I’ll be 46 when I can stop taking Tamoxifen, and that’s also about the time that my student loans will be paid off. This makes the aging process a bit more tolerable. I’m just warning ya’ll: 2026 I’mma be on. the. prowl.

I wonder about the difference between my brain and the brain of someone who actually sticks to a diet/workout plan. I work with people who have lost significant amounts of weight. They decided to start incorporating regular exercise into their daily routine; they eat healthier foods, and they’ve been able to maintain this lifestyle for a few years now. Why don’t I want it badly enough? Why are they able to do this, and I am not? I know, I know: I could do it if I wanted to, but why am I not doing it? I want to live a healthy life. I want to live as long as possible. Health and longevity are clearly so much more important than french fries, but I continue to choose french fries. Back in the fall I bought a monthly pass to a dance/fitness studio, but I never went. They were kind enough to grant me an extension, but still I never went.

There are little differences I notice in my post-cancer life. I think that with the loss of libido, there’s also a general loss of drive in all aspects of being driven. I used to take pleasure in strolling around stores and looking at things. Target, Hobby Lobby, HomeGoods, Treasure Aisles (the antique store on Big Bend). But now I would prefer to sit on the couch. You’re probably thinking, “Jenny is clinically depressed,” but I’m not. I’m just low-energy. I know the main way to combat this low energy is to incorporate more exercise into my life. I used to really enjoy walking; I live right by Forest Park. However, now couch-time always wins.

Another intensified mammalian experience that’s Tamoxifen-induced is how I smell. My hair/scalp begins to emanate an earthy aroma if I don’t wash it regularly. I used to be able to go days without shampooing my hair, and it would never smell (p.s.- It’s not good for your hair to wash it everyday; that’s not just me being lazy). My armpits tend to ripen a bit more quickly. That allium odor unique to the underarm develops more quickly than it used to. And this noisome situation is problematic considering I value sleeping more than showering when it comes to those dark winter mornings.

I’m not joyless, though. I’m just lethargic. And I WILL do something about this; it WILL happen. It’s just not happening right now.

What is happening right now is planning for The Breast Dance Party Ever. I can’t believe it’s less than a month away! (It’s on March 9; do you have your ticket yet?). I’m not a religious person; I don’t believe in subscribing to one book, but I do believe we all have a responsibility to help each other. If I had my own children, I would tell them that there are two principles that should guide their life’s choices: 1) Help others, and 2) Whatever you do, do it with purpose and passion. Essentially, help others but also help yourself, then everyone wins. Your life will have meaning. I host this party not only because I like to dance and drink and laugh with my friends and family, but because I feel a moral obligation to help my sisters in the struggle. I can’t imagine how difficult it would be to undergo chemotherapy or recover from a mastectomy as a single-parent without an external support system. It would be darn near impossible to do. The organization that TBDPE raises money for is Gateway to Hope, a St. Louis non-profit that provides, among other services, financial assistance to breast cancer patients. Again, if I had been a single-parent or the main bread-winner in my family when I was undergoing cancer treatment, I would have been screwed. I had good health insurance, yet I still got a few bills that ate up most or all of my paycheck (but I was able to live with my folks, so I could handle this financial burden). When I took time off of work to chop off my tits and get new ones made, I wasn’t getting paid. Not only does Gateway to Hope help women cover their medical expenses, but it also helps in other ways, such as providing childcare or cleaning services. The organization was started by two physicians whose breast cancer patient died due to not being able to pay for her treatments. I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it again: only get cancer if you’re rich. I’m still paying off the anesthesia bill for my new nips, and I don’t even get to show them off to anybody. I’m the only one that sees these damn things. So will you help me help others? (while at the same time having a friggin’ blast?) Buy your ticket to The Breast Dance Party Ever and dance…because you can.

I’m going to put an end to Check Those Titties. I just wanted to say thank you to everyone who gave me such positive feedback and encouragement while I over-shared on this blog throughout my cancer experience. I hope I see you all on March 9 as we support others and celebrate the life and health we should all be so grateful for.