So. As the Tamoxifen continues, so does the joy that is the medical-menopause-punctuated-by-occasional periods. I can’t tell you how boring it is. But I’ll try.
Boring one: the periods aren’t regular enough to be predictable, preferring to crop up occasionally like a bad ex-boyfriend on Facebook.
Boring two: my body wants to turn into an old woman’s, with fat inching its way towards the middle and bones that creak and ache. I’ve always been determined not to gain weight with Tamoxifen and I haven’t, but I still feel fatter, if you see what I mean. I put on a party dress that I’ve had for ten years the other day, and although it still fits quite happily, when I looked at myself in the mirror I couldn’t quite believe what I was seeing. Also, I have the upper arms of a 70 year old.
Boring three: my skin drinks up moisturiser like a builder with a hangover drinks tea. I’ve given up on expensive moisturisers and instead have a pump-action all-purpose body-lotion by my bed, which I smother myself in night and morning. I also have moisturisers next to all sinks and on my desk, so I can keep the skin on my hands from snagging when I slide them into pockets. I feel as though I’m constantly pushing back the tide.
Boring four: none of these things are really bad enough to be proper problems. They are just low-level annoyments, like cleaning the kitchen floor or trying to find some sellotape in a hurry. Complaining about them could make a blogger feel (and look) a bit whiny.
Still, I will be done with Tamoxifen in May 2014, five years from when I started it. after which, apparently, I get to have the Actual Natural Menopause. Yay me. There may be some serious whining then….