The end is near

Drink of Choice: World’s Finest Sloe Gin Fizz- more on that later. Its not what you think

Flower of Choice: Mamacita, a 100% Sativa from Fifty Fold Growers, Spokane. More on that later.

Dear readers it has been far too long, much to catch up on, much to discuss.

All had been going along okay. As reported in these pages, the side effects weren’t great- lack of sleep, loss  of mental control, anxiety, etc… With each passing month they worsened as the effects accumulated.

Phyllis and I had a lovely trip out west in March- Santa Fe, Palm Desert, LA, Napa. Great trip. However, Phyllis noted the side effect episodes were more intense than she realized.  (Drink change- 2:1 Sapphire Martini, Up, Twist.).

At her suggestion, at my next appointment with Oncology, I asker about the dugs they had been offering that might allay the side effects. This was my first mistake. Throwing one pharmaceutical at another just can’t be a good idea. It wasn’t.

She prescribed me Effexor. I took it. This was my second and crucial error. Briefly, it wrecked me. It is the cause for radio silence these many months. I mean wrecked me. In theory, it is an anti- depressant. It had the opposite effect on me. My whole life I wondered about depression: what was it, did I have it, I’m not sure. I am now sure. I can absolutely empathize with folks who suffer from depression. Day after day I would be curled up on the floor, sobbing, for no particular reason. Real, live , depression. Not Good.

So it  was determined I should stop taking Effexor. Brilliant that. But. You can’t just stop taking it. Apparently if you do it gets really weird. That is a level of weird that I could not fathom, but patience, while may be a virtue, is not my strength. So though I titrated down, I went a bit too quickly. I discovered a new level of weird. Hunter S. would be jealous. He could have it. Skin crawling, lizards- the full monty. Bad ass shit right there.

Happily, it passed. One day I woke and was like- holy shit. What was that. By now it was well into May. I had made it so far, but then the side effects to treat the side effects proved too much. I decided that I would simply try and enjoy the summer and get through the treatments as best I could.

Then in early June, Phyllis and I went to visit our dear friend Gene in Kirkland, WA. Gene was diagnosed with a terminal illness- Lewy Body Dementia- several years ago. He has outlived his diagnosis, but still…

We were there to provide emotional and some economic support. One of his treatments for years has been Medical Marijuana. Now that Recreational is legal, we took him to a dispensary to stock up. And when in Rome…

I didn’t notice it immediately, but we got home and weren’t smoking I did. The side effects had abated while in Washington, but came on with vengeance when we got home. They were shorter in duration and less intense when I smoked. But most importantly, I slept. All night. Faithful readers will remember that this has been the worst side effect throughout- the sleepless nights.

On my next Oncology visit, with the Oncologist, not the nurse practitioner  this time, I asked for and received my Medical Marijuana Card. Or at least was approval for it. This being Illinois, I still don’t have it, although my application was complete on June 6. I expect it around end of September. The Oncologist was apologetic that it hadn’t been offered earlier. I wish it had.

In the mean time our friend Gene wanted to summer in Chicago. However, owing to his condition, he cannot fly. So I flew out and drove back with him. And stocked the larders. So, bureaucrats be damned, its all good. Just a bit in the evenings. I sleep. Oh, to sleep, perchance to dream…

I only wish I had discovered this earlier.

Last chemical castration ever received yesterday. A happy occasion, to be sure, but a bitch. I was worthless today. The effects are cumulative. I can’t explain it to you. There is no common experience. If I said, “I have a cold and can’t breathe through my nose and am miserable,” you could relate. But if I said, “I have that feeling in the pit of my stomach  like you get when you get castrated,” you probably have no idea what I mean. It blows. And good for you.

Still 26 days of taking the pills and then the slow slog back. It will be 12- 18 months more before testosterone levels start to get back to normal. In the meantime, thanks be for legal weed.

I am still a very lucky and grateful human. My cancer- an aggressive form that would have been fatal 25 years ago- has been cured. I have, at last, found relief from the side effects. Life is good.

Now, that Sloe Gin Fizz Recipe:

In a Shaker: Ice, 2 oz of Plymouth Sloe Gin- Do not substitute. 1 oz of your favorite Gin; 3/4 ounce of Luxardo Liqueur; 1 1/2 ounce of fresh squeezed lemon juice. Shake the above. Strain into a collins glass, filled with ice, top with your favorite sparkling water, enjoy.

The end is near. Thanks for coming this far with me.