Side-effects. Symptoms. Whatever. Wouldn’t it be easier if they came in neatly packaged, discrete parcels.
Like…take this drug, and if it disagrees with you, you’ll develop a sudden and overwhelming allergy to cauliflower. That’d be easy. Just present the patient with a bunch of cauliflowers – and watch them cower (or not).
But no. Most symptoms seem to overlap with symptoms for something else. Boringly predictable, I guess. After all, there are only so many ways your body can misbehave: over-heat, under-heat, come out in spots, bleed. So given the amount of disease around, its hardly surprising that some look much like another.
I was forcibly made aware of this some years back when someone close had a breakdown. Symptoms: behave erratically, minor hallucinations, mood swings, and a few other items for good effect. I checked the textbooks. Aha! This was bipolar. Oh. No. Another book gave much the same for schizophrenia. Yet another suggested personality disorder. Whilst other opinions suggested this was well within the range of “normal”.
So there you have it: utterly bonkers, or completely sane, with almost all stops covered in-between.
That’s a long pre-amble to saying I was ill on Monday – and maybe suffering from my anti-androgen. Or maybe not.
So far, I have to report, I have felt pretty ordinary. No temptations to lash out at random traffic wardens. No crying fits – at least no more than usual. No palpitations, sweats or hot flushes. All depressingly normal.
But then, I haven’t, quite, been able to shake that image that will be familiar to connoisseurs of bad WWII dramas. You know the one: where the submarine captain orders his crew to “dive”…and then you get the long drawn out silence, punctuated only by some officer calling off depth readings in the background, and the first ominous creaks as the hull prepares to collapse.
Or if you prefer modern: think Scott, in Star Trek (which is actually a submarine drama transposed to the future). “She canna take it, Cap’n. She’s gonna blow!”
So I’ve been waiting. Anticipating. And nothing. Nada.
Until Monday, when first I had stomach cramps, then headache, nausea, general lassitude and all-round rottenness (no: I hadn’t been listening to Theresa May!).
Aha! That must be it. The anti-androgen’s revenge. Except…
… this felt pretty much exactly like a particularly nasty bug that first attacked me some thirty years back in France – and which has returned, at odd intervals to make my life a misery. Nothing too serious. It feels like flu without the sneezing. And it tends to last a day or so then go away.
Which this did.
So there you have it. I’ve had my side-effects (touch wood!). Or then again, I haven’t. Either way, Monday was pretty rotten. I took myself to bed and when I looked round, it was Tuesday. No zumba for me!
But I’m feeling OK now and, if there are side-effects to come, they’ve got another week or so to make themselves known.
See u all later – just off to strangle a chicken!