I met with the oncologist and the decision was made to continue with the previous plan of hormone injections and tamoxifen. The injections are to shut down my ovaries and stop the production of estrogen, which cancer uses to grow. Basically, it will throw me into early menopause. Yikes, sounds like fun, egh? The injection was given in the chemotherapy infusion room, a place I had not visited yet. As I entered the room, I glanced around at the four other women receiving treatment. Two were reading books while waiting for the chemo drugs to slowly drip, one was drinking tea while chronically coughing, and the fourth woman was lying on a bed under a blanket. I was taken into a side room to receive my injection and was then free to go. I didn’t know any of these women, but I smiled at each one as I left, feeling an overwhelming sense of admiration for each one. These courageous women are fighting a similar battle, and I pray that each one has the strength, determination and “good fortune” to win. As for me, the two inch needle injection in my rear end isn’t worthy of any discussion and simply doesn’t compare to what others endure in their attempts to beat cancer.
“I complained that I had no shoes, until I met a man with no feet.”
Persian proverb
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