All aboard the estrogen train

From the moment they awoke from their glorious childhood slumber, my ovaries have been like a pair of German trains. Always running on time. So why I should be anything but expectant about the return of arts and crafts week at panty camp is a little naive.

Honestly, with the horribly bad skin of late, the lower back pain, the biting the heads off a litter of kittens and the obligatory Ryan-Gosling-turning-into-a-rabbit sex dream, I should have known I'd be boarding the estrogen express sooner rather than later after the end of chemo. Especially after craving that big iron-filled steak last week.

Whether I have to worry about the nasty hormones swimming around in my bod again is unknown. Apparently I'll need to be tested for the presence of specific hormones and shouldn't even count on the fact that my German train will be so, erm, German from now on. If this is all sounding a little Hitler-esque, I don't mean it to. Go to Europe. Compare each country's train schedules. Report back to me. Within the minute, I tell you!

I was hoping I'd become happily menopausal about all this cancer stuff, but...

On the good news front, Frances slept until 5:30 am this morning. Victory! So I'm celebrating with a supremely quiet day at home, willing my drains to stop sucking away and lifting my arms over my head at regular intervals. The big fear is lymphadema, which can happen on the side I've had my lymph nodes removed (the left). I can't lift anything heavier than 5 lbs for several weeks and have to be careful about extreme temps, manicures, infections, needles, blood pressure machines, and the list goes on. If not, I could end up with a big puffy arm and hand, possibly forever. Goody.

Feeling stronger today all around but can't wait until next week when I can drive again. For now, though, I smell Gossip Girl on my PVR...