The Lupron Diaries: Shot #4 and Running Update (and Victory!!)

Posted by Melanie

The Lupron Diaries- (2)

Thank goodness, Shot #4 was painless like #1 and #2. I made sure that I was completely relaxed, and other than the pinch of the initial stick, it was pain-free. Ginger blamed #3 on herself, but I told her I was certain that it was my fault for being tense.

The timing of the shot sucked, though…I had a 5K planned for two days later, and if you’ll recall from my list of side effects that suck, I’m usually in for three days of joint aches that make any kind of high-impact activity pretty painful. But I’d already paid my $35, so I was going to do this 5K, even if I had to crawl across the finish line in agony.

I was nervous, because Friday was a rough day. My hips and knees ached badly, and ibuprofen was only taking the edge off. On a side note, the sadness/weepiness and anxiety have been getting progressively worse with every shot. It’s still bearable, so I’m not waving a white flag, but I’m finding myself crying a lot more and getting overwhelmed by small things/worrying about huge things that I can’t control (getting older, job stress, the never-ending passage of time, etc). Joey has been an absolute rock through all of this; I have no idea what I’d do without him.

I was also seriously nervous about this 5K, because it was the first one I was going to do without Joey. I was running it with my best friend Katie, but she had her own goal pace (which was a good bit faster than mine), so I was going to be doing this on my own (although it was encouraging to know she’d be waiting for me at the finish line). Would I push myself hard enough, or would I just give up without Joey encouraging me to run a little bit more? Plus, this was going to be the biggest 5K I’d ever done. It was put on by the Carolina Panthers’ Keep Pounding Charity, to benefit the Levine Cancer Center. This wasn’t just some local 5K with a few hundred participants. Nope, we’re talking thousands. Would I get stuck in a pack of people? Would I be in the way, an obstacle for the “real” runners? Would I get lost and end up in another part of downtown Charlotte entirely?

I woke up on Saturday morning feeling better than Friday; my legs weren’t hurting as badly, so I took 3 ibuprofen and hoped that’d hold me through the race. Joey made me an egg over toast and a cup of coffee and I triple/quadruple/quintuple checked to make sure I had everything I needed in my race belt, that I had Katie’s shirt and bib, and that my playlist was all set and downloaded (Thank you, Amazon Prime Music!). I headed her way and we were off!

We arrived (with only a minor snafu getting to the parking deck) in plenty of time to get a shot in front of the stadium before being shuttled to the starting line at the Levine Cancer Center.

We stood around and stretched (and I agonized over being nervous), and then I noticed SIR PURR! Not only am I a huge Carolina Panthers fan, but (as you already know), I’m a huge cat fan in general, so I was super-psyched. I actually dressed as Sir Purr a couple of years ago for Halloween. I yelled “OMG, SIR PURR!!” and he ran right over for a pic. Forgive the blurriness…Katie had picture-taking anxiety.

The course itself was brutal; we started at the Levine Cancer center and ran all the way up Morehead street to the stadium. The race organizer playfully called it “Mount Morehead,” but he wasn’t kidding; it was almost entirely uphill. When we reached the stadium, we ran a lap around the outside, up the stairs, and into the north gate entrance. Once inside, we ran a lap around the ground level concourse and then up the ramps to the 500-level (holy crap). Then we went a short distance around the upper concourse and back down another set of ramps, out the players’ chute and through the finish line on the 50-yard line. So, as you can see, the bulk of the course was uphill (especially those ramps).

It was SUPER crowded at the start line, which was overwhelming. I kept freaking out and Katie kept telling me, “We’ve got this.” She was a little nervous too, but kept it together and kept encouraging me. Before we knew it, a horn sounded to start the race. I do wish they’d told the walkers to make their way toward the back, because we had to do a lot of dodging people and running out into the road to get around walkers. I kept up with Katie for two or three minutes, and I made it almost all the way through my first song before I had to take a walking break. I tried to stay to the right whenever I walked so I wouldn’t be an obstacle to folks who were running.

I started to get discouraged right away, which sucked. Normally, I would’ve had Joey there to say something at just the right time or to suggest that we run to some point up ahead and get my mind off the negative thoughts. But it was up to me this time.

I set a simple strategy; run as much as possible through each song on my playlist, run through each mile-marker sign, and run through each intersection so I didn’t have to have a cop holding traffic for me while I wheezed my way across the road. The scenery was pretty, and the day was PERFECT…maybe 60 degrees, a little breezy, and sunny.

I also made a commitment not to fall behind the folks around me; I focused in on a red-haired girl who appeared to be about my same fitness level and was run/walking as well. It worked like a charm.

Until we got to the ramps inside the stadium. I had to walk up all of them. Plus, I had only been in the stadium once before, so I didn’t realize that there were two ramps per level. I got up the fourth ramp and thought I was done, and then I saw the door leading inside and it said “300 Level.” Shit, I thought. Shit, shit, shit, I’m never going to make this. But I kept on walking and tried my best to keep up with the cadence of the music. I finally hit the top and I picked up running again.

I REALLY wanted to walk back down some of the ramps, but I told myself I wasn’t going to waste any downhill portions of the race (especially since there were so few), and I kept running. Toward the bottom, my earbuds fell out for good (I’ve got to get some new ones), so I just took them out altogether. Before I knew it, I saw daylight ahead and was running out the player’s entrance. WHAT a rush that was…the same entrance that Steve Smith ran through, DeAngelo Williams, Cam Newton…there I was…dodging some lady and her toddler, but running through nonetheless. I revelled in the moment for just a second, and then started scanning the line of cheerers for Katie. I heard her screaming “look at the clock!!” and I looked up and it said 44:20. WHAT?!! I spent the entire race feeling like I was going to fail again at my goal (being under 46). But here I was just a few yards from the finish line, and I was going to end up beating my goal by over a minute!

Katie snapped a pic of me:

I was shocked and thrilled and exhausted. My official time was 44:35. Katie made her goal too (under 39). And I ran over half of the race (at least). Four months ago, I would never have believed I could’ve done that. According to many of the online accounts I’ve read of women who’ve taken Lupron, I shouldn’t have been able to do that. But I did.

Katie and I snapped a selfie, got our official times, snagged water and protein bars, and then sat in the parking deck for 40 minutes trying to get back out to come home. I also found that red-haired girl and told her I’d been trying to keep up with her, and that she did awesome. Everyone needs to hear when they’ve done a great job.

The ibuprofen worked like a charm…not one bit of joint pain during the run, and I haven’t had any since, either. I even went with Joey and Indy on a celebratory lap around the neighborhood after I got back home.

On the technical front, I need new earphones and a new running belt. I don’t have enough room in the one I currently have for my phone, ID and keys. My driver’s license fell out on the field while we were getting our official times. I saw it happen, so I was able to pick it up quickly, but there’s always the chance that it could happen and I wouldn’t catch it. I’m thinking of getting a Flip Belt; a couple of people had them at the race and they looked comfortable and secure.

On the “what’s next” front, I’m going to focus on endurance for the next couple of weeks rather than speed, because we’ve got two hikes planned over Memorial Day weekend (both in the mountains). Our next scheduled 5K is July 4th, and I’d like to finish it in under 44 minutes.

I’m proud. I’m proud that I managed all by myself. Katie even offered to give up her goal and run with me, and I told her not to. I’m proud that I picked up and ran again every time I felt exhausted. I’m proud that I didn’t give up. I’m proud that I’m not using Lupron as an excuse to stay on the couch, even when I don’t feel the best. Endometriosis isn’t going to win this. It’s not going to beat me, and it doesn’t have to beat you either.

Here’s my playlist in case you’d like to use it:

Tik Tok – Ke$ha
Turn Down for What – DJ Snake & Lil Jon
Lips are Movin – Meghan Trainor
Boom Boom Pow – The Black Eyed Peas
Hey Mama – The Black Eyed Peas
Toxic – Britney Spears
Lose Yourself – Eminem
Word Crimes – Weird Al
Chariots of Fire – London Philharmonic Orchestra
Can’t Hold Us – Macklemore & Ryan Lewis
Bring Me to Life – Evanescence
Eye of the Tiger – Survivor
Wannabe – Spice Girls (I finished the race before this one started, thankfully!)

The Lupron Diaries: Reflections on Mother’s Day

Posted by Melanie

The Lupron Diaries (1)

Another Mother’s Day has come and gone. It’s funny…there’s only been a couple of Mother’s Days that weren’t awkward for me since Joey and I got married. I feel like we got a pass for the first couple of years since we were just married (and one of those we spent in Texas, so we didn’t have the added baggage of everyone we knew asking us when we were going to start a family). By the time we moved back, though, the expectation was already there (from church folks, not our parents), that we’d be starting a family.

I had a colossal chip on my shoulder about it for most of those years; we didn’t know if we even wanted kids, and here I was having to field questions every Mother’s Day…or gently correct folks who wished me a Happy Mother’s Day because they just assumed that all women of childbearing age are mothers. I fiercely defended my “motherhood” of my kitty, Shelli (and still do to some degree since she struggles so badly with anxiety, which requires a lot of care). I’d answer women who asked me when we were going to have kids with, “I don’t know if we even want them!” (mentally adding, “so THERE!” afterward), watching their utter confusion at a Christian woman who may not want to “be fruitful and multiply.”

Two years ago was the first time in a long time that Mother’s Day wasn’t awkward for me; we’d just started trying, and while I wasn’t a mom yet, I felt like it was going to happen any time. I remember sitting in the choir, not being able to stand up with the women who were already moms, but thinking to myself that surely I would be able to next year.

And then came a year of unsuccessful trying and a failed round of fertility meds. Last year was just too raw. I skipped church and we had a lazy day around the house. I didn’t want to deal with the sadness and embarrassment. Sure, this was my thirteenth childless Mother’s Day, but this was only the second one where I really wanted to be a mother, and the first one where I had to deal with the fact that my body was failing me. We celebrated our own mothers, but stayed away from other folks who might ask me uncomfortable questions otherwise.

We skipped church again this year. I don’t blame them for the big deal that they make on Mother’s Day. Moms should be celebrated and fussed over; motherhood is a noble calling, and women who must make sacrifices every day for their children’s sake deserve a day where they are publicly honored. But it’s awkward for me at church, especially now that our journey is public. I don’t want the pity from people who know. I don’t want to have to sit down while just about every other woman my age stands. So I didn’t. We celebrated our mothers on Friday and Saturday, and on Mother’s Day, we headed out to Brevard, NC, for a six mile hike in the mountains.

And it was glorious. We did the Pink Beds Loop Trail; although it’s listed as “moderate,” I’d definitely call it an easy hike, save for the sheer distance of it. I mis-read the commentary on HikeWNC’s website, so we didn’t make it all the way out the Barrett Branch Trail to the waterfall, but we will definitely add that in the next time we go.

I’ll post a separate review of the hike in the event that anyone wants to see the pics and read about that without wading through my infertility ramblings:)

The Lupron Diaries: Dealing with Negative Emotions

Posted by Melanie

The Lupron Diaries- (1)

I’ve definitely felt like the Lupron is beating me these past few days. I didn’t stop to think that perhaps the side effects would compound as the shots went on, but that seems to be what’s happening. It feels like I’m constantly surrounded by the crappy version of Snow White’s seven dwarfs…”weepy,” “grumpy,” “overwhelmed,” “frustrated,” “stressed,” “bitchy,” and “anxious.” For the most part, I’m able to keep perspective and remind myself that it’s the Lupron messing with my head, but there are plenty of times that these terrible emotions surface, and I’m left curled up in the recliner crying over some stupid viral story I read on the internet or griping all over Joey for no apparent reason.

However, I’ve figured out some ways to deal with this side effect; hopefully my coping mechanisms will help you as well (also, I’m not a doctor, just a grumpy layperson. Don’t take my advice to the detriment of your health…if you’ve got problems, consult a professional).

Pray. If you’re not a person of faith, you’ll have to humor me here, but I am a Christian, and I am constantly having to remind myself that God is in control of all of this and He will get me through it. And I’m not just talking about “pious, churchy” prayers, either. I gripe at God. Sometimes I yell at Him. Most of the time I’m contrite and pitiful, but honestly, He knows what you’re thinking anyway, so you may as well be honest and tell Him. I think God appreciates honesty, even when it’s ugly. And sometimes, that’s exactly what I need to talk my way through a piss-poor mood.
Establish and maintain routines. I know this sounds both elementary and
boring, but it’s true. Routines are comforting, and when you’re struggling with a barrage of uncertainty and stress, you need comfort and stability in every way possible. I have set times to wake up every day, and I try not to vary from them. I have set days to run (Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday), and a set day for a long walk or other activity (Sunday). We have set activities on Wednesday night, Thursday night, and Sunday morning. Open space (on your schedule) can be overwhelming, so having an established routine can keep you from freaking out.
Exercise. Sorry…you’re not going to get around this. There’s a reason it’s suggested in almost any article about mental wellness. Studies have shown time and time again that exercise boosts endorphins in the brain and is a highly effective remedy against depression and anxiety. Additionally, since weight gain is another side effect of the Lupron,exercising will help keep that one at bay, too. I run/walk three days a week, do a long walk (or hike) on
Sundays, and I’m working on getting strength routines together for Monday and/or Friday. It also helps to have something to train for. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been caught in negative thoughts and I’ve gotten out and run or hiked, envisioning myself crossing the finish line at a 5K or summiting Mt. Mitchell, and I’ve finished that workout feeling like I kicked ass and was ready to take on the world. You don’t have to run. Find an activity that you like to do and push yourself. Sweat therapy is a real thing.
Find a stress-relieving hobby (and do it as often as you can).
When I discovered adult coloring books, my world instantly became more calm.
Mandalas are my favorite things to color for their balance and symmetry. I love the methodical nature of the process…selecting a few colors and setting their pattern, finishing with each color one at a time. And the finished projects are so gratifying! Find something that you can focus on that’ll take your mind off negative emotions; reading, scrapbooking, drawing, crossword puzzles…whatever works for you.
Give yourself a break. I’ve had to lower my expectations of myself since I’m overwhelmed more easily and get frustrated much more quickly. I can’t handle doing something every Saturday or having more than one or two commitments during a week. I can’t agree to many last-minute or spontaneous requests. I can’t do as many “favors” for people. Being realistic about your limits and operating within them will lessen the sense of being overwhelmed by having added yet another thing to your list of responsibilities.
Avoid your triggers. I don’t watch tv shows about obese people. I don’t read stories about animals (unless I can tell from the headline that it’s silly and cute). I avoid movies that I know will make me cry. For a normal person, a good cry can be cathartic, but for someone dealing with Lupron weepiness, it may start a flood that won’t stop easily. If it looks like it might throw you off and you can avoid it, by all means, steer yourself the other way.
Be honest with your family, friends, and partner. If I’m “Lupron grumpy,” I tell them. If I don’t want to go out because I need to curl up in the recliner and cry, I tell them. They need to know if you’re going to be snippy for no reason so they don’t think they’ve hurt you. And they need to know when to try to pull you out of a bad place.
Sometimes, just eat the damn ice cream. You’re not going to win every battle. Sometimes, you’re going to want to pile up on the couch and eat cheetos and watch six hours of Deadliest Catch. And sometimes, it’s okay to do that. Don’t do it often, but sometimes, it’ll just have to do. Pick yourself up tomorrow and move on.

Remember, what you’re going through is tough. Lupron treatment ain’t for sissies. You are an EndoWarrior, and you can beat the negative emotions (most of the time)!

Infertility Awareness Week: Things Your Infertile Friend is too Nice to Tell You

Posted by Melanie

source

This week is National Infertility Awareness Week. I’m glad about that. With 1 in every 8 couples of reproductive age dealing with this issue, it’s certainly something that needs to be brought to the forefront. Chances are, someone you know well is struggling with conceiving, and there are a few things you need to know…things they may be too nice to tell you.

We don’t want your pity. Yes, for whatever reason, there is a part of my body that’s not working the way it should. However, I’m still a successful human being with plenty of other great qualities and abilities. We’re not pathetic; we’ve just got something that’s not working quite right.
We don’t want your judgement. I actually had a friend tell me, in essence, “that’s what happens when you wait so long to have kids.” I already know that. I know that fertility decreases as you age. We waited for a reason. For us, life hasn’t been stable enough to provide for a kid until these last couple of years. There’s truth in oft-repeated statement, “if you wait until you’re ‘ready,’ you’ll never be ready.” However, it’s also a good idea to try to wait until you’re in a position to be able to provide for that child, and sometimes that doesn’t happen until you’re thirty. Your judgement alienates and hurts us.
We don’t want your suggestions. Yes, I’ve tried essential oils. Yes, I’ve tried castor oil wraps. Yes, I’ve tried apple cider vinegar. Yes, I’ve tried supplements. Yes, I’ve tried a gluten free diet. Yes, I’ve tried a ketogenic diet. Yes, I’ve tried lemon water in the morning. Yes, I’ve heard of fertility massage. Yes, I’ve heard of acupuncture. No, I’m not interested in any of it anymore. Your infertile friend has probably done her research already, and may have already tried most of these “natural remedies.” Your suggestions aren’t helpful; they’re actually a little annoying.
We’re a little pissed that you’re pregnant. Do I still love you? Yes. Am I happy for you? Absolutely. Will I love your baby? No doubt. But please be understanding; there’s still going to be a tiny part of me that’s sad that it’s not me. It’s still going to sting a little when you tell us how excited you are that the baby’s kicking, or even when you complain about your swollen feet and insomnia. Because it’s not us, and we’d give anything to experience the things you’re complaining about. Your baby shower is going to be awkward for us, especially if we end up having to field the “why haven’t you guys had kids yet?” question from unthinking acquaintances. It doesn’t mean we hate you; it means we’re human. And that’s going to have to be okay.
We still need YOU. It’s easy to withdraw when you’re struggling with such a personal problem. Plus, the hormone treatments we have to go through (Clomid, Lupron, the variety of drugs involved in IVF) wreak havoc on our emotions and make us anxious, depressed, and grumpy sometimes. We need you to be there to watch a movie with us, go shopping with us, run a mile with us, or just sit with us while we cry. Sometimes we need you to take our mind off this terrible journey, and sometimes we need you to listen to us while we agonize over it. Mostly, though, we just need you to be there.

So, there you have it. We’re struggling with a private and often embarrassing problem. Love us in spite of it.

– this post by Melanie Weaver first appeared on Inner Monologue of a Madwoman –

The Lupron Diaries: Running Update

Posted by Melanie

Today was the first of many 5k races we have planned for 2016. We picked the Sunshine 5K for its proximity to our house.

Here we are, pre-race (you can tell because I’m still the same shade of white as my visor).

I always get SO nervous on race days. We’d planned to get up at 6 am so we’d have a chance to have some coffee and let Indy roam around in the yard before we had to put her back up to leave. What ended up happening instead, though, was my waking up and noticing that it was already light outside, checking my phone, and seeing that it was actually 6:47 and we’d grossly overslept. It was a good thing that the race was only five minutes from the house, so we did still have time to have a cup of coffee, and it was nice not to have to drive into downtown Charlotte to get to the venue.

I was more nervous this time than I have ever been before; I knew I was going to try to run as much of the race as I could, and we didn’t have the excuse of having Indy with us this time, so I was going to have to quit punking out and just run the damn thing. I also hadn’t been able to work out Thursday because of some respiratory congestion (which I still had), so I was afraid that I’d end up coughing up a lung during the race and have to be carted away (by ambulance, of course) to the minute clinic.

Thankfully, my girls were already there when we arrived; we chatted a bit–or tried to, at least, over the deafening music.

They’re both much faster than I am, so I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep up with them, but I also knew they’d be waiting for me at the finish line. I’d previously told Joey to go ahead and do his own pace, but I got nervous right before it started and asked him to stay with me instead. He didn’t think twice about it.

We ran most of the first mile, and I made it through my entire first song without walking, which was heartening, since we’ve been doing the Mayo Clinic 5k program, which is comprised primarily of short run/walk intervals. I had no idea how long I’d be able to sustain a run. Our first mile was about 13:30.

The course was two loops through a neighborhood in Wesley Chapel; it was excellent weather and the houses were pretty. However, they looped us through a nature trail that was quite narrow and had some slippery foot bridges, which made things rather precarious for someone who’s Lupron clumsy. I’m also a little curious as to how the lady with the triple stroller managed, and how those around her felt when they were inevitably bottle-necked behind her for that entire section of the course.

My chest congestion was catching up with me by Mile 2 and I had to walk a good portion of that one and the third. I almost started crying at 2.8 because I knew I wasn’t going to make my goal pace and it wasn’t fair that I got sick three days before the race and I hadn’t lost any weight and I felt like a loser and my house is a wreck and I’m barely even a functional adult anyway (and it just spiraled down further from there). I told Joey I felt like crying and he said, “that’s going to make it hard to keep pace, and we’re almost done.” And I saw the main road and heard the music at the finish line. And we were at 43:30, so Joey said, “let’s run…I think we can make it!”

And we ran. And then found out that you had to circle around the back of the parking lot at the venue and pass through a gauntlet of portapotties and dumpsters before crossing the finish line. So we didn’t make it. We came close, though!

My girls were there at the end, cheering for me, and then we stayed and cheered for the last finishers. I did get a race PR, even if it wasn’t quite as fast as I wanted. And I got to enjoy the best part of friendship and marriage; having people who know what I’m going through pushing me to be successful and waiting at the finish line for me. It’s hard to beat that.

Incidentally, here’s my playlist for whoever may be interested. It served me pretty well.

(I’m Not Your) Steppin’ Stone -The Monkees
All the Small Things -Blink 182
American Woman -Lenny Kravitz
Breathe -Prodigy
Bye Bye Bye -*NSYNC
Can You Dig It? -The Monkees
Cocky -Kid Rock
Without Me -Eminem
White & Nerdy -Weird Al Yankovic
Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap -AC/DC
Fergalicious -Fergie
Flagpole Sitta -Harvey Danger
What I Got -Sublime

My official time was 46:02, so one minute over my goal of 45:00. All things considered, though, I’ll take it.

The Lupron Diaries: Shot #3 and Weekend Happenings

Posted by Melanie

I won’t bore you with the details from Shot #2, as it was pretty much the same story as Shot #1…quick and painless.

Shot #3, however, hurt like HELL. Ginger felt terrible about it, but it wasn’t her fault. I think it was a combination of my laying the wrong way and my tensing up (maybe because I wasn’t positioned right), but I felt every second of it, including the gross sensation of thick liquid going into my muscle. I even got lightheaded for a couple of seconds, but it wasn’t unbearable. She laughed and said, “it’ll probably hurt more taking the band-aid off than the shot did.” I chuckled, but thought she was out of her mind; after a quick hug, we were on the way out.

She was RIGHT, though. I don’t know what kind of industrial-strength band-aids they use, but I thought I was going to find all of my skin on it when I took it off the next morning.

On another unpleasant note, I think I’m shedding more hair than normal. It could just be my imagination, but it seems like I’m throwing away more loose hair than I usually do. We’ll see how that plays out. Hair loss is a possible Lupron side-effect, albeit an uncommon one, so perhaps I’m just shedding my winter coat like the pets are.

We went to South Carolina this weekend to visit my grandmothers (we go once a month). I snapped this pic of a derelict house on the way down; they’d cleared out some trees over the last couple of months, which left it exposed, and my mom wanted a picture of it, so I took one for the team and hung out the window at 70 mph to get her a picture. You’re welcome, Mom;).

One of my grandmothers is suffering from dementia. Usually, it only seems to affect her short-term memory (although I’m sure that those who see her on a regular basis notice it in other ways), but this time, she didn’t remember that I’d come to spend a week with them during the summer a few times when I was a kid. That hurt; she usually regales me with the tale of her and Papa walking in on me calling my parents because I was homesick and picks on me about it. This time, however, I regaled her with the tale of the only fish I ever caught (that couldn’t have been more than three inches long) and how I made Papa take it off the hook because I didn’t want to touch it. She asked me if I ever got homesick, and I told her I did and we moved on to other things. Dementia really sucks.

Sundays are always a bit stressful for me; although I love church, it involves a lot of interpersonal activity (and sometimes singing in front of a big crowd), which wears out this introvert. Joey and I have enjoyed the last two weeks of going and doing something active on Sundays, so we continued that by heading out to Morrow Mountain to hike.

We did the Fall Mountain trail, which is listed at four miles, but after the re-routes they had to do for some fallen trees, ended up being about 4.2. It’s listed as a moderate hike, and I’d agree with that assessment. However, it required some log-hopping and balancing to cross a couple of streams, which was pretty harrowing for someone struggling with Lupron clumsiness.

Joey and Indy on the trail:

We stopped at a rock outcropping about halfway through and something intrigued Indy greatly. I couldn’t tell what, but snapped a pic of her.

I didn’t wash off my makeup before heading out to the trail, so I was ultra-fabulous for the hike.

I think we’re going to keep up this trend of doing a long walk/hike on Sundays. It’s a great way to decompress and a fantastic way to rack up some miles right at the beginning of the week. Mitchell will be 12 miles, so we’ve got our work cut out for us. It’s also nice not to be sitting in front of the tv, which traditionally has been the way we’ve spent our Sunday afternoons/evenings.

We’re also toying with the idea of a day-trip to the mountains to hike on Mother’s Day. The last couple of years, I’ve skipped church because it sucks too much not to be able to stand up with the rest of the moms. We’ll see.

The Lupron Diaries: Side Effects that Suck

Posted by Melanie

Today is my third shot; halfway there! And while this hasn’t been nearly the horror story that I’d read about, I don’t want to give you the impression that the entire experience is sunshine and rainbows, because it’s certainly not. Here’s the rundown of the side effects I’ve dealt with over the last two months. I’ll focus in on each one in future posts to discuss how I’m dealing with them.

Joint Pain: for the first few days after the shot, my hips and knees hurt pretty badly. I first noticed it when I was in the bed and Shelli (my kitty) hopped up on my hip to curl up and sleep. She does this every night (which makes sleeping an adventure since she’s balanced so precariously…I can’t tell you how many times I’ve inadvertently launched her across the room), so it’s not all that unusual, but I saw STARS the first night. It typically goes away after about three days, so I just make use of the ibuprofen for those days and wait it out.
HOT FLASHES: man, that first flash was ROUGH. I was on a conference call that was particularly aggravating, and I felt myself go nuclear. I got so hot that I started to feel cold, which actually wasn’t all that unpleasant, so I felt pretty successful for having made it through. This side effect was one of my greater anxieties, because I’m already hot-natured. I will say, though, that the add-back medication has helped immensely. I think I’ve only had a handful of genuine “flashes” over the last two months, and they’ve been bearable.
Weepiness: I won’t call this “depression.” I’ve been depressed before, and this is nowhere near that bad. I’d liken it to typical PMS-type sadness; news stories make me want to cry (especially ones about animals) and I’ve found myself reading too many sad stories for the catharsis of “crying it out.” While it sucks, it’s definitely not that soul-crushing type of hopelessness that comes along with clinical depression.
Irritability/Grumpiness: I’m already a pretty grumpy person, so I’m not sure how much different I am, but I can definitely feel myself get frustrated more easily and there’s been a time or two where I’ve said something snippy that I may not have said if I hadn’t been on Lupron. Thankfully, for the most part my friends have found my grumpiness to be entertaining, so I don’t think anyone is ready to cut me out of their life just yet. I’ve not experienced the “Lupron Rage” that I read about; I’ll take some minor irritability over rage any day.
Hungriness: Holy crap this has sucked. I went from not wanting to eat anything for two months after surgery to wanting to eat ALL. THE. DAMN.TIME. I can see how people gain excessive amounts of weight if they’re not paying attention to what’s going on with their body. I’ve had to make a concerted effort not to eat everything I see and to offset the overeating I do with a healthy amount of exercise. I’ve lost about four pounds over the last two months; I’d like it to be more, but I’m not going to beat myself up too much about it.
Clumsiness/Lightheadedness: I put these together since most of my clumsiness is a result of feeling a bit lightheaded when I stand up. There was one incident at work where I barely made it into the bathroom stall before falling down and I ended up cracking my head against the side of the stall when I sat down. That was a little frightening. In fact, this one has probably been the most frightening of the side effects, since the possibility of my falling down in front of people is high, and making a spectacle of myself is one of my phobias. Joey has mentioned a couple of times that he’s a little nervous about my falling off Mt. Mitchell. I just told him that I’d tie myself to him so we’d both go together if I fall. On a positive note, though, this side effect has improved over the last two months; I haven’t had it nearly as bad the second month as I did the first.

That’s it, guys. While this clearly isn’t a walk in the park (more like a “stagger through the park while it’s 100 degrees”), it absolutely hasn’t been the horrific experience I read about online. I know that there are women out there who’ve had a genuinely terrible time with Lupron; I’m not trying to diminish that. However, if you’re out there and your doctor recommends it as a treatment for your endometriosis/infertility, I don’t want you to feel hopeless and terrified. It’s possible not only to survive, but THRIVE while you’re on this drug.

The Lupron Diaries: Some Days Are Failures

Posted by Melanie

In the interest of full disclosure, I want you to know that, although there are days that are six miles walks with hiking boots on:

There are also days where I don’t leave the recliner, eat an entire box of Hot Tamales, skip my planned three mile workout, and then read sad things until I cry myself to sleep.

Some days are “Lupron Fails,” as Joey and I call them. But it doesn’t happen every day. It doesn’t even happen most days. In fact, most days are okay, and some are even great!

But failures happen.

Yesterday was a failure, but today will be better.

Silent Saturday: Recent Hikes

Posted by Melanie

Graveyard Fields:

Crowder’s:

The Lupron Diaries: The First Shot

Posted by Melanie

I had my first shot of Lupron Depot on Thursday, February 18th, at noon. High noon. Because I’m afraid of needles (and because I’m overdramatic), I treated the appointment like I was being marched down the green mile to the electric chair. Honestly, if it had been anyone else, I would’ve laughed at them for being so ridiculous. I mean, seriously? I’d survived surgery. A shot in the butt would be nothing.

I would’ve laughed until I saw the size of the needle.

Guys, it was EVERY BIT of two inches long; even my husband, who is quick to (gently) pull me back to reality when I overexaggerate, admitted that it was one of the longest needles he’d ever seen. Ginger, my nurse, made the mistake of leaving the box open when she brought the shot into the room. “Is that entire needle going in me??!!” Ginger was fantastic, though; she was the perfect combination of supportive and dismissive. “Yep, but it’s no big deal…you’ll barely even feel it; I promise!”

She asked me if I had any questions or concerns about the drug, and I was pretty frank about how nervous I was and how many terrible accounts I’d read online. She echoed Joey’s comments about folks with positive experiences not generally taking to the internet about them, and she gave me the rundown of what to expect (the most common side effects, i.e., hot flashes and moodiness) and encouraged me to email them or call them if I thought I was experiencing anything out of the ordinary. She also told me that the menopause-type symptoms probably wouldn’t start for a couple of weeks, but that I may have increased endo symptoms during that time, because your estrogen levels surge before they go away. Thankfully, she’d allayed all of my fears, but (much to my chagrin), that meant it was time for the jab.

She had me lay down on the table since I told her I was scared of needles (and the fact that I looked like I was about to be given a lethal injection). “We’ll go into your right side this time…we’ve got to alternate, so next month will be the left.” Joey came back with me and held my hand, and I braced myself for the world’s largest shot in the ass.

And then it was done. Just like that. I can honestly say that I barely felt it at all. Ginger became my new best friend and the best nurse in the entire world. After a high-five and a hug, she sent me on my way, told me she was in on Thursdays and to plan my next appointment accordingly so I’d get to see her again. She also reminded me to make sure I was diligent in taking the add-back medication and not to worry, that everything would be fine and it was going to be worth it to kick this endometriosis.

I had a sore butt cheek for a few days, and believe me, I milked that for all it was worth. Joey already waits on me hand and foot, but I shuffled around and looked sad and pointed at my cheek whenever I asked for something. I think it stopped being cute the second day, but he humored me until I really couldn’t justify it anymore because I felt fine.

So then began the “two week wait.” And not the “fun” two week wait (the one where you wait to test to see if you’re pregnant). Instead, it was the countdown to becoming an overheated ball of emotions that falls down and forgets things.

I felt like a time bomb.