Losing Myself for Something is Fair – Losing Myself for Nothing Isn’t

It’s been a while since I’ve written about my health, so I thought I’d catch you up.

Since receiving my first hormonal injection for cancer last November, I’m coming up on my second injection in February. I’m told these will continue for two years. Although I’ve told people I haven’t had any side effects, I’ve started to wonder if that’s entirely true.

The drug, Lupron, is designed to shut down testosterone—the fuel that feeds the cancer. I receive a three-month dose with each injection. The possible side effects are long and intimidating: changes in blood sugar, increased risk of heart attack or stroke, heart rhythm issues, bone density loss, seizures, fertility problems, impotence, testicular shrinkage, breast enlargement, joint pain, difficulty urinating, mood swings, and decreased libido.

I’ve always felt fortunate having a cardiologist—even more so now. Mine is the Chief of Cardiology at a major hospital, and having congestive heart failure and an ICD means he keeps a close watch. So far, no cardiology issues since starting Lupron, which is reassuring.

I thought my anger and mood swings were from the frustration of not being seen by urology and oncology last fall. But the feelings lingered through November and most of December, even after the injection. I was anxious, angry, and worried the treatment wouldn’t work. After a long talk with my primary care doctor in December, we decided on a low-dose anxiety medication. A month later, I feel noticeably more at ease.

I joke with friends about the breast growth, thankfully there has been none—it’s easier to laugh than to fear the alternative. The issues of impotence and testicular changes were harder to process. A man thing, I suppose. Talking about it with doctors felt awkward. The thought of losing that part of myself is unsettling. I was prescribed medication by my urologist after radiation therapy in ’23, cleared by my cardiologist, but I’ve never used it. It’s been a celibate stretch.

Strangely, opening up became easier with my meditation coach. One day she asked about side effects, and it all came out—no embarrassment, no hesitation. Just truth.

I’m still working with my therapist on old wounds. One surfaced after a bad night’s sleep—someone from my past returned in a dream. Usually, I welcome those visits. This time, she was hurting, silent, but vividly there.

I asked my therapist, “Avoidants… do they feel guilt?”
She said, “Avoidants aren’t monsters. They’re overwhelmed by emotion. They feel guilt, but humans are very good at burying it. Running away is one way.”

I needed that. I moved forward—but some things still haunt me. Yet it’s my reminder that ‘Healing isn’t Linear‘.

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