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.