Where are my hot flashes when I need them?
By late 2004 and into my second Tamoxifen refill Ms. Hot Flash began making her regular rounds of up to a dozen or more visits a day through my body. Hated it!
My income is basically from sales. Imagine standing across from a sales person who is giving you her best rap. You are sold on her product until her face flushes scarlet and sweat beads appear. As the sweat begins rolling down her back and chest the sales person looses focus. Her pitch collapses like falling dominoes, and you are quite convinced that you have just met the most fabricating sales person ever.
My oncologist recommended a light dose of anti-depressants. That failed on several plains. Now I push staff out into the sales floor while I quietly wipe sweat from the back of my neck and chug ice water.
Midway into January 2007 Santa Fe has become a southwestern-chic imitation of Siberia. How cold is it? Well, I’m brewing lots of soup stocks and these stock pots are too large for my refrigerator. No problem. I just open the back door and store them in my other refrigerator/freezer: The great outdoors! Today’s soup stock was frozen solid when I brought it in to mix it with left over squash.
Baby, it’s more than cold outside. And that rounds me back to the first sentence: Where are my hot flashes when I need them? Yesterday, from the moment I awoke, despite a hot bath, flannel-lined and layered attire, exercise, and finally succumbing to the warmest room in the house with the addition of a space heater cranked to “high,” and a wool blanket, I was like that frozen soup stock. Not until 4 p.m. did Ms. Hot Flash pay me a warming visit.
For the first time ever, I rejoiced in my red face and sweat-drenched body. I think this California Girl is not made for real winters and Ms. Hot Flash is my new BFF.
By late 2004 and into my second Tamoxifen refill Ms. Hot Flash began making her regular rounds of up to a dozen or more visits a day through my body. Hated it!
My income is basically from sales. Imagine standing across from a sales person who is giving you her best rap. You are sold on her product until her face flushes scarlet and sweat beads appear. As the sweat begins rolling down her back and chest the sales person looses focus. Her pitch collapses like falling dominoes, and you are quite convinced that you have just met the most fabricating sales person ever.
My oncologist recommended a light dose of anti-depressants. That failed on several plains. Now I push staff out into the sales floor while I quietly wipe sweat from the back of my neck and chug ice water.
Midway into January 2007 Santa Fe has become a southwestern-chic imitation of Siberia. How cold is it? Well, I’m brewing lots of soup stocks and these stock pots are too large for my refrigerator. No problem. I just open the back door and store them in my other refrigerator/freezer: The great outdoors! Today’s soup stock was frozen solid when I brought it in to mix it with left over squash.
Baby, it’s more than cold outside. And that rounds me back to the first sentence: Where are my hot flashes when I need them? Yesterday, from the moment I awoke, despite a hot bath, flannel-lined and layered attire, exercise, and finally succumbing to the warmest room in the house with the addition of a space heater cranked to “high,” and a wool blanket, I was like that frozen soup stock. Not until 4 p.m. did Ms. Hot Flash pay me a warming visit.
For the first time ever, I rejoiced in my red face and sweat-drenched body. I think this California Girl is not made for real winters and Ms. Hot Flash is my new BFF.
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