Pam: Bring to a Rapid Boil, then Simmer for 24 Hours until Thoroughly Annoyed

Echo update: She is eating less and less each day, and getting progressively weaker, unfortunately. Bill and I have decided to let her set the pace and trust her dog instincts. Last night, she gobbled down some cooked rice, but eschewed her latest favorite, scrambled egg. This morning, she lapped up some egg and milk mixture and ate some cooked venison, but turned down bread, kibble, rice, scrambled egg and yogurt. Right now, I'm cooking a chicken breast and hoping that will tempt her today.

In the meantime, I have been unbearably steaming in my own body heat. The Effexor and Spruce Lignan no longer keep the constant hot flashes at bay. I am waking up several times a night in a soaked nightgown, staggering out to the couch to lie under the fan. I sweat like a marathon runner at work. It never abates, I am hot-hot-hot, all the time.

Imagine my thrill when the latest issue of Cure magazine touted an article on cancer treatment-induced hot flashes! At last, some new ideas! After plenty of yada-yada, yeah I know what causes them, here's what the article cheerfully concluded:

"Simple lifestyle changes may help reduce the severity of hot flashes. Experts [ahem] recommend trying to avoid circumstances or activities that may trigger hot flashes. Stress is a frequent trigger, so practicing stress-reduction techniques, such as meditation or yoga, may be helpful. Other suggestions include wearing lightweight cotton clothing and sleepwear, staying hydrated, and avoiding alcohol, caffeine, and spicy foods."

Gee. If only I had known this before! [insert major sarcasm here]

I threw the magazine clear across the room. Thanks a lot, Cure. Sheesh. No help here.

I am so darned tired of being CHEERFUL about this. The few times the hot flashes stopped, (at first with the spruce lignan, then at first with the Effexor), it was such a relief I almost wept with gratitude. Then they came back with a vengeance. Like a present, snatched away, just as I was getting ready to open it. Hot, cold, hot, cold--I pile on clothes, then fling them off (at home anyway; I just fan myself and sweat vigorously at the library).

The last time I was at the oncologist's, he asked if I was taking the tamoxifen.

"Of course," I replied. "How can I argue with a 41% increase in survival rates? Who wouldn't take it?"

Dr. DaSilva allowed that a great many of his patients just stop taking it because of the side effects. I got a good girl award for being a stoic, compliant patient. But I wonder how long I can continue to live like this. Some days, it's downright unbearable. And the aromatase inhibitors he wants to change me to have even more heat potential, plus the added bonus of bone loss, bone pain and heart arrhythmia. Oh joy.

Bill's suggestion was to tell my nutritionist/biochemist Dr. Veltmann in New Mexico about the proposed change in meds. Dr. Veltmann has me peeing in cups and spitting in tubes to measure whether I am still pre-menopausal (suggested by my extreme heat reaction to the tamoxifen) or truly now in menopause. I will know the results of all these genomic tests in early November, just before my next oncology check-up.

I am trying to be a smart patient about all of this. But some days (and nights), I just want to climb into a vat of ice and stay there.