Yeah, they just don’t quit. I’m a swamp when I wake up. More hours of daylight seems to mean more hot flashes. Flashes, did I say? ‘Flash’ implies something that lasts a minute or less. I’m having hot episodes.
I like to think that I’m feeling the side effects so acutely because there’s so little cancer left, and those crazy little hormones gotta go somewhere and do something. I used to try to follow a policy of not sweating the small stuff. Well, now I sweat all the stuff.
But I can stand it. It’s life––messy, sloppy, not always tidy or comfortable or presentable, even kinda smelly.
Love (and sweat) like you’ve never been hurt (or cold); work (and sweat) like you don’t need the money (for anti-perspirant); dance (and sweat) like nobody’s looking (horrified).