Raw-dogging Cancer

I do not recommend.

About a year and a half before my diagnosis I had weaned off Zoloft and began micro-dosing mushrooms. There wasn’t a specific reason for this switch other than, I was currently not in crisis so it felt like a safe time to experiment. Zoloft and shrooms each proved to be very successful options for easing my anxiety and depression symptoms. The best way I can describe mental health medication is: I still see the dark hole but I don’t spiral down it. It’s like I’m a kid sitting at the edge of the pool, my toes touch the water but the meds stop me from me falling into the deep end.

Just me or does anyone else feel like Zoloft sounds like a good name for a nightclub? Zo Loft. I also always get EDM electric dance music confused with EMDR eye movement desensitization and reprocessing therapy. Whenever my therapist says “do you want to try EMDR today?” I’m like “listen to Skrillex? Sure if you think it would help.”

In July 2024, I was given a list of things I needed to eliminate two weeks before my first surgery, a bilateral mastectomy. Psilocybin was on the list, I assume because there’s little research on how it interacts with anesthesia. Considering I was told that my breast cancer prognosis was “great” I assumed I’d be fine being off medication for a bit. In fact I’d be better than fine: I’d be positive, powerful, unbothered by petty shit like grey hairs, social media likes and why a friend replied to my text with “yep” instead of “yaaaaas!!! :)” Being a cancer survivor was going to change me for the better. Maybe I wouldn’t even need shrooms or Zoloft!

[INSERT LONG MANIACAL LAUGH HERE]

Confident I’d emerge from my mastectomy empowered combined with being hyper-focused on simply surviving what would be my first ever major surgery, I didn’t think about any sort of post-surgery mental health plan.

And I did emerge from my double mastectomy empowered, briefly…kinda…it was probably the Oxycodone.

Once the mayhem of surgery settled and reality kicked in I began to feel the weight. Not just the weight of what was happening but also the weight of my tissue expanders. These temporary, empty implants felt so terrible and tight in my chest. Some people aren’t as bothered by them, but I was obsessively aware of their existence. They look and feel like a thick reusable plastic bags rammed into where your soft lush breasts used to be. I just shivered writing that last sentence, like I heard nails on a chalk board. A week after surgery I took an edible to help me relax. As a marijuana lover since the late 90s I was certain my longtime bestie THC would help, but all it did was increase my sensory awareness making me scream at my sister “get a knife and cut them out!” shortly before puking and passing out. I did not handle the expanders well.

I also did not handle the Minions well. One of my first post mastectomy outings was taking my daughter to see the Despicable Me 4. As soon as the theatre got dark I couldn’t breathe as I was certain my tissue expanders were ripping through my organs. I called my surgeon’s emergency number and was told to come in to make sure I wasn’t having surgery-related complications. I sat in the theatre lobby crying and hyperventilating for forty-five minutes because I wanted to wait till the movie was over so I didn’t ruin my daughter’s day. Not even cancer stops guilt. After several tests and seven hours at the hospital, they determined I was having a panic attack. I went home, never knowing if Maxime Le Mal succeeded in her revenge against Gru.

Now, I’m no mental health expert, although if I wanted to be all I’d need to do is write “mental health expert” in my Instagram bio. The same is true for “wellness coach” “Christian” and “comedian.” But, I think it’s safe to say that being off your meds while you’re going through the most challenging crisis of your life is not a good idea. For nearly seven years I was on something, then I get cancer and I am on nothing!? Like if there was ever a time to pop a pill to take the edge off, it’s during a life threatening illness! But instead I raw-dogged cancer.

My husband, sister, therapist and many friends suggested I go back on Zoloft and I wanted to, however when I was told that in four months I would need to start taking Anastrozole, I hesitated. According to Reddit (not my doctors) Anastrozole was sure to give me debilitating side-effects (I’m on it now, it’s not that bad). As an alternative I could take Tamoxifen, however you can’t take Tamoxifen with Zoloft. My logic was, I didn’t want to start a SSRI and then have to possibly go through the difficult process of weaning off. In retrospect (always in retrospect) the weaning off process would have been immensely easier than the months of madness that would follow.

A older doodle I did, I think it really captures the depression + anxiety relationship. Plus I love the teddy bear that I drew.

Anxiety can cause a person to be paralyzed by choice. Zoloft and psilocybin help ease my choice paralysis. When you have breast cancer you have to make an absurd amount of important choices, in a short amount of time, about things you most likely know nothing about. I couldn’t make a logical choice about my mental health when I was paralyzed with decisions about my physical health, and not taking the fucking pill that helps with my choice paralysis!

My choice paralysis hit its peak shorty after the Minions moment when I found out I needed radiation and may want to reconsider getting implants. More choices to make, more paralysis to feel, still no mental health meds in my mouth.

Who knows, maybe if I was on Zoloft I might have still been plagued with overthinking, regret and immense fears of making the wrong decision. Breast cancer is hard. Life is hard. But at least with Zoloft I think I might have been able to sit at the edge, instead I drowned.

And now I will dramatically say, if you want to hear all the crazy things that happened next please subscribe. I could share it all now but who has the time or attention span to read a 27 page long post? Truly, the fact that you read this much already makes me feel honored! And if you wanted to become a paid subscriber to support my work I’d be even more honored. No pressure (insert pressure-inducing Angel by Sarah McLachlan with sad SPCA commercial vibes here).

The one spoiler I will offer is I did eventually go back on Zoloft, hence why I’m able to talk about my insanititty with humor. Did you notice I wrote insanititty? See, jokes!

I can’t tell anyone diagnosed with breast cancer that they should go on an antidepressant IMMEDIATELY because I’m not a mental health expert and also everyone’s body and brain are different. I am going to say that, if I could do it all again, I would have gone back on Zoloft as soon as I was diagnosed.

Also, if I could do it all again, I wouldn’t. I would never want to go through any of this ever again.