An Update on My Cancer Journey and Bipolar Management

 Hello there reader(s), I have been away for a long time, trying to get through this breast cancer treatment and remain stable as far as my bipolar goes. I turned 60 (!) along the way, signifying that I’ve been managing my bipolar with psychotic features for about 25 years now. I’m definitely an old timer in that regard, now dedicated to taking my bipolar meds religiously, as prescribed; going to bed at a reasonable hour every night; and living a life of much reduced stress (except when things like cancer pop up and you are thrust into the stressful thick of things).

I wanted to give an update of what is going on with my cancer treatment, and my bipolar. With the treatment, I’m done with radiation, I had 25 sessions, targeting both sides of my chest. Gratefully I didn’t need chemo. Last week I started up the final phase of treatment, taking an estrogen blocker medication that I will be on for 5-10 years. Fingers crossed, so far I haven’t had negative side effects including depression, joint pain and hot flashes. Actually, I’ve noticed that the crippling morning anxiety I’d been having since I entered menopause 10 years ago has seemed to have vanished? I’m not going to celebrate yet, but my God, what a relief!

Now, fatigue is something radiation causes, and post radiation fatigue is a big issue as well. Basically I’ve been worn out for two months, and I’ve been told I’ll still be recovering for months to come. Add this to the fatigue my bipolar meds (Depakote and Risperdal) cause, plus the sedation my Gabapentin causes (I take this for my Generalized Anxiety Disorder), and I’m left in my chair for most of the day and night. This is so, so frustrating! I’m learning I must be patient as I wait to recover, but gently push myself to do things like walking in the morning to try and move more.

Another thing I’m contending with is some additional cognitive impairment, on top of the difficulty my Risperdal causes. I’ve been told this is common for people going through cancer treatment, and things will improve over time, as I continue healing. I must really try hard not to panic and worry that I am permanently compromised. But it’s unsettling when your mental faculties are impacted. I’m talking about memory, ability to do things like follow my recipes and cook (it takes much longer than usual), finding words when writing, ability to write, etc. I think this is caused by”Chemo Brain” or something like that.

On my bipolar, I have continued to remain stable throughout my entire cancer journey since last October 2025. Heck, knock on wood I’ve been stable going all the way back to 2022, and before that blip, 2017. By this I mean my mood has remained steady, no mania (and psychosis) and no depression. This comes from two things: strict med compliance (and monthly sessions with psychiatrist) and complete sobriety (no alcohol and no recreational drugs like marijuana). 

The downside is I have continued to struggle with medication side effects. This includes fatigue, sedation, weight gain, hair thinning, lots of sleeping, heat intolerance and cognitive impairment. I’ve bitched about this for over two decades; I’m now at the point of saying, Hey, I’m 60. Let’s lean into acceptance and stop fighting things. I cannot risk stopping the meds and courting mania because my manias have psychosis attached. I have delusions, spend money, and wander into dangerous places. I can start drinking again, and I’m a recovering alcoholic. Just too much at stake, so I keep taking the meds. Side effects are just something I have to manage.

Ok so this is about all I can pen today, I’m getting tired from the effort. This is what I’m talking about, writing is difficult. I’ll keep practicing though. Thanks for reading. See you again soon.

Writing Prompt: My Mother, Myself

 Prompt: Write about the oldest person you know. How have they influenced your life?

Definitely one of the oldest people I know is my 85 year old mother, Wendy. She’s one of my major support persons, I have been calling her every morning for the past decade as I’ve been building a sober, med-compliant life here. My mother has over 40 years sobriety herself, so she’s a big inspiration to me in that regard. While my own experiences with sobriety have included lots of relapses, she’s been painstakingly consistent with racking up an extremely long sober life. I cherish the day in 2024 when I gave her a 40 year anniversary AA coin. 

The thing about my mom that I count on the most is knowing when I call her, she most likely will be there to pick up the phone and provide support. This has been crucial, particularly during my long, recent journey through breast cancer treatment. I do not take for granted how lucky I am to have my elderly mom alert and extremely capable of providing soothing support when I need it. And since we live in the same city, I’m able to visit with her often and do things like go to dinner, or just spend time with her in her home talking.

My mom devoted her life to being a housewife and raising her three children. Although she never had a professional career, she made sure her two daughters had careers and tasted independence before settling down and getting married. My mom had an active volunteer life, working to provide donations to the impoverished and also for years was a docent at the art museum and led educational tours for schoolchildren from across the city. 

She was married to my father Charlie for 48 years, until he passed away from bone cancer at age 68. I have always wanted to emulate her strong relationship with my father. Since he passed, my mom has successfully carved out an active, independent life, managing her affairs herself and doting on her three children, five grandchildren, and two great grandchildren.

 She’s a voracious reader, an intellectual, and loves a good philosophical discussion. These days she streams a lot of murder mysteries at night, and is particularly fond of the Danish series, I think because her  grandfather emigrated here from Denmark. I always wanted to be as smart as my mom, and it’s been a struggle having to contend with the cognitive difficulties my bipolar meds cause which interfere with things like reading, watching television, and engaging in lively dialogue. I’m not as jovial as mom is, and I get frustrated by that.

“Comparisons are odious!” mom says, when I wail about not being as productive or inquisitive as she is. And  “It’s hard being human!” my Mom said to me this morning, 

“Let whatever you do today be enough.”

Writing Assignment: Cancer and Me

Starting to write again after a five month dry spell feels awkward and difficult. Much has happened to me during this period, most importantly I was diagnosed with breast cancer and I had a mastectomy on one breast and a lumpectomy on the other in January.  I’ve hesitated to write this news down, not wanting to give this cancer a voice, a chance to take me over and render me helpless. But maybe I’ll find strength by naming it, and just starting to slowly write my thoughts down about my particular experiences.

So I’ve been on a breast cancer journey for months. My husband Michael has been incredible, supporting me all the way through initial tests and breast biopsy leading to diagnosis; switching treatment providers; another breast biopsy; three surgeries; bone, chest and abdomen CT scans; a liver biopsy; and we are now waiting for radiation treatments and medication I must take for at least 5 years. It’s been a long, stressful ordeal.

Michael has been responsible for nursing me, changing dressings after surgeries and stripping drains and emptying their fluid for me twice a day. He had the courage to look at my breasts when I could not; telling me I was beautiful and loved. That meant so much. I would not get up the courage to look at my chest until about three weeks post surgery in January. I’m so frightened of change; hopefully the experience of seeing my transformed chest and not being displeased at all might teach me once and for all that change is not such a bad thing.

So today I’m about 10 days out from my last surgery for awhile. I got my implant for my mastectomy breast, and my plastic surgeon told me yesterday I was officially No Evidence of Disease (NED). That’s the term they use instead of saying cancer-free or cured. Yet the fact remains I did have breast cancer, and I’m joining the ranks of numerous other women who’ve been in this boat. I had been so naive about what it means to be diagnosed; it seemed like it was something that always happened to someone else, couldn’t possibly happen to me. Nope.

There are several parts of my experience I want to explore in writing: How this breast cancer affected my husband, what he was called upon to do, how our marriage is affected, where we go from here. Next, write about how my anxiety disorder focusing on small, insignificant shit completely disappeared and was replaced by a strong, kick ass survivor mentality. “Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff.” Also, giving back, how can I contribute to the ongoing dialogue about breast cancer survivorship? And of course more topics will just come out over time.

So here’s my return to writing. Just take it slow, Melissa. Practice when you can. There’s been a lot going on in your world lately. Welcome back.

Writing Prompt: Night Moves

 Prompt: Write about a special Fall evening you had or write about what you’d like to do at night this Fall.

Night Moves

I approach this particular prompt with a sigh, because lately at night I’ve been conking out in my chair in front of the TV around 9:00 p.m. every night, and this is vexing me. I feel so old, even though I’m only 59. Perhaps I look at this as a rite of passage, trading in the late nights for an early bedtime, and waking up at the crack of dawn. This is just inevitable, particularly if you’re like me and take sedating evening meds every night. 

But can I rig the system, say, on a special night I want to stay up late, take my pills later and perhaps drink some coffee in the afternoon? Sure I can, I’ve done this on countless occasions. This is my new normal as  a bipolar who is rigidly med compliant: Evening activities for me to do take planning, and altering a pill dosing schedule that is set in stone for 7:00 p.m. every night.

One such occasion this Fall I’ll be managing my evening pill schedule is on Monday, October 13 when my husband and I are going to the Blue Jackets Opening Night game at Nationwide Arena. It’s actually also our 24th anniversary and we are celebrating by treating ourselves to special lower bowl seats for the game. The game starts at 7:00 p.m. and will go until around 9:30. Then we have to make our way back to the car, and usually make it home between 10:30-11:00 p.m. That’s when I’ll take my evening meds, almost four hours later than usual. 

Because I’m normally sleeping during the hours when the game is on, it’s very novel and interesting to me to be awake and watching the hockey action live. The fans can be loud, the rink chilly, the music and game feed thrilling to experience. My senses feel alive, and this helps to keep me alert and focusing on things. I cannot imagine being this awake every night of the week, but for hockey game days I certainly can handle being alert and on top of things.

Opening Night this year offers up a lot of hope and expectation that our team, which has struggled the last five years, might finally take it to the next level and have numerous exciting wins this season for us to celebrate. We have some really good players, capable of burying the biscuit in the net when we need them to. Hopefully our game we are seeing will result in a victory. Bring it on boys!

I’d like to note that my husband and I have gone to every Blue Jackets Opening Night game since the team was founded in 2000. This year will mark 25 years’ worth of opener experiences. What was it I was saying about being old? Sheesh. So there’s a little poignancy to this upcoming evening event. No chair sleeping at home for me! Let’s Go Jackets and all that jazz. Show us your night moves on the ice and get us a win!

Writing Prompt: A Power Greater Than Myself

 Prompt: Who has changed your life, and how?

A Power Greater Than Myself

Step 2 of AA goes as follows: We came to believe that a power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity. I have a concrete example of this in my life, my psychiatrist Dr. Alan Levy, who in his conservative, measured way brought me out of insane bipolar instability into the stable, controlled life I lead today. I have been under his care for 8 years, and we have developed quite a relationship.

Dr. Levy got my medication straightened out, and encouraged me to stay the course when med side effects started wrecking havoc on my system. He patiently listens to me gripe session after session, yet somehow he calms me and I end up staying religiously med compliant, along with staying completely sober. 

It took me a very long time to get to this total abstinence from alcohol and weed, and I realize that Dr. Levy appreciates my sobriety journey. He’s never said this directly but I’m fairly certain Dr. Levy wouldn’t treat me if I were actively using alcohol, weed, or another mood-altering substance. So I guess I had to be ready to work with him, and that didn’t happen until I was 51 years old.

Everything dovetailed together in the Spring of 2017, starting sobriety again, finding Dr. Levy, and getting on a completely new medication cocktail. It all just clicked, and I was finally on my way, after years of chaos and multiple hospital stays. It hasn’t been a complete bed of roses throughout the past 8 years. I’ve had some challenging struggles with anxiety, which we cannot seem to completely control. But maybe that’s something you can’t permanently nail down. Oh well.

Dr. Levy is aging, he’s definitely in his late 60s, maybe early 70s? I’m not sure. He’s not considering retirement yet, but I know we are inching closer to that day. I’ll be devastated to lose him, I truly cherish his wisdom and skill at identifying the correct meds and dosage amounts for me. I’m going to stay out of the scary future though and not worry about what happens when Dr. Levy and I part ways. Today things are good.

Feeling Better!

 Well, after weeks of feeling physically off; and having my doctor run blood tests and urine tests and everything else under the sun, only to find nothing was wrong; I report that I have enjoyed a good week of feeling good! I know a few weeks back I cut back my Gabapentin dose by a mere 400 mg. and maybe this has something to do with it? I’m not sure.

But I’m extremely pleased to be feeling better. I have been continuing with my morning walk and swim exercise class twice a week. I want to add something else, like get a personal trainer and hit weights, but that’s expensive. Maybe I’ll just add something else like additional walking into my days. 

At some point I’ve just got to address my excess weight which keeps me from moving the way I want to. I’m roughly 50 pounds overweight and I’ve thought about doing the GLP-1 weight loss injections, but something is holding me back. I love my cooking so much and I don’t want those injections taking away my love of preparing food. 

There’s always the option of just cutting my calories down, I’ve done that before and lost a lot of weight. But I’m struggling with that, I think I may have been somewhat depressed lately and my appetite is increased. Oh, I just hate this excess weight and how difficult it can be to get it off and keep it off! Quitting the nicotine gum last year slowed my metabolism down further, and I gained 10 lbs. I just can’t get off. It’s frustrating.

But let’s put this weight talk aside and just enjoy the fact that I’m feeling good today. I’m roasting an oregano fennel seed chicken with tomatoes and garlic and the house smells divine. It’s our Sunday dinner, and I’m excited to have it. 

Michael and I are talking about taking a vacation somewhere. It’s been an extremely long time since we travelled. On the one hand I want to get away, on the other hand I’m scared. Feel the fear and do it anyway, right? We are at the age where we should be traveling. I need some courage. Something to discuss in therapy. The saga continues.

Writing Prompt: Land of the Lost

 Prompt: Write about a time you were lost. How did you find your way?

Land of the Lost

Thirty years ago, Central Ohio AA was home to a lot of lost people, myself included. I was 29, unemployed, recently returned to my hometown from Washington D.C. where I abandoned a career I loved in favor of a doomed relationship that blew up in my face. 

Yes, I came home and proceeded to drink myself silly every night, wallowing in self-pity. When the depression took ahold of me, I somehow made my way to a nearby talk therapist who, after a few sessions, quickly sized me up as a drunk and told me to go to rehab. I resisted a little, but knew the writing was on the wall. I was near bottom and had to turn things around.

The rehab place I went to enrolled me in their six week intensive outpatient program, which met three nights a week. Additional attendance at local AA meetings was required, and I can’t remember if I did the well-known “90 meetings in 90 days.” I did though go to plenty of meetings all over town. 

I remember learning a lot about the disease of alcoholism in those outpatient sessions I attended. The information sunk in and made sense to me. It carried me through five years of sobriety from alcohol after leaving outpatient. But I was someone who kept going to AA meetings without getting a sponsor or doing the 12 Steps. I also kept smoking marijuana so I wasn’t practicing total sobriety. 

But I was faithful to five years of alcohol abstinence, which for someone in their late twenties/early thirties living in a big drinking town was no small feat. Times then weren’t like they are today, with younger people not drinking as much anymore. It seemed like everyone was drinking. But not me. I counted my days, got my coins at meetings, and got stronger. 

I would go on to enroll in a Journalism Masters program at the Ohio State University, and at a local coffee shop meet the man who would become my husband. Good things happened to me. The seed of recovery was planted, and I felt lost no more.