Lupron, You Rude Little Gremlin

Lupron, You Rude Little Gremlin

🌼 Date: Thursday, June 18, 2026

⚡ Energy: Betrayed by my stomach

❤️‍🩹 Status: Lupron side effects have officially entered the chat

🤨 Outlook: I would like to unsubscribe from this hormone blocker welcome package

Well.

Lupron has officially made its presence known.

And let me just say:

Rude.

Very rude.

I knew going into this that hormone blockers could come with side effects.

I read the lists.

I asked the questions.

I mentally prepared for hot flashes, mood swings, fatigue, headaches, joint pain, night sweats, and all the other fun little prizes that come with tossing your body into medically induced menopause.

But nausea and vomiting?

Absolutely not.

No thank you.

Return to sender.

Vomiting is my least favorite side effect out of every side effect I have experienced.

And that is saying something, because cancer treatment has given me quite the sampler platter.

Chemo nausea.

Bone pain.

Mouth sores.

Metal mouth.

Neuropathy.

Radiation burns.

Skin reactions.

Fatigue.

Brain fog.

Lymphedema.

Tender nails.

The list is long, and the reviews are terrible.

But throwing up?

That one is at the top of my absolutely-not list.

I will do almost anything to avoid it.

I will breathe through nausea.

I will sit perfectly still.

I will sip ginger ale like it is a sacred medical offering.

I will eat crackers one molecule at a time.

I will bargain with my stomach like we are in hostage negotiations.

Please, little digestive system, let us not be dramatic today.

But Thursday night, there was no negotiating.

There was no gentle warning.

There was no polite heads-up.

I had just gotten comfortable in bed when all of a sudden, my body hit the emergency alarm.

I sat straight up and ran to the bathroom.

And when I say ran, please understand this was cancer-recovery running, which is less graceful athletic sprint and more desperate pajama shuffle with panic in the eyes.

But I made it.

Barely.

And then the Lupron gremlin officially introduced itself.

Hello, nausea.

Hello, vomiting.

Hello, horrible reminder that my body is still not done surprising me.

I hate it.

I hate this side effect.

I hate the way nausea takes over everything.

You cannot think around it.

You cannot rest through it.

You cannot distract yourself from it.

It climbs into your whole body and sits there like an unwanted houseguest with no manners and a very questionable smell.

And the worst part is that I had just started to feel like I was moving into the next phase.

Chemo was done.

Radiation was done.

My skin was healing.

My fills had restarted.

We had a plan.

I knew hormone blockers were coming, and I knew they might not be easy, but part of me still hoped maybe my body would be reasonable.

That was cute.

Apparently my body heard “new medication” and said, Should we make this dramatic?

Yes.

Yes, apparently we should.

So now we are here.

The first Lupron shot is in.

The estrogen eviction process has begun.

My ovaries have received their official notice.

And my stomach has decided to file a formal complaint.

I know why I am doing this.

I do.

That is the part I have to keep reminding myself.

This shot is part of the plan to lower estrogen because my cancer was estrogen-positive.

The whole goal is to cut off the food supply and reduce the chance of recurrence.

I understand the science.

I understand the reason.

I understand that protecting my future matters.

But understanding why something is necessary does not magically make it easy.

It does not make nausea less miserable.

It does not make vomiting less awful.

It does not make me feel less frustrated that every step forward seems to come with a new side effect hiding behind the door.

Surprise.

You survived chemo.

Here is neuropathy.

Surprise.

You finished radiation.

Here is lymphedema.

Surprise.

Your skin looks better.

Here is hormone therapy.

Surprise.

Your first shot is done.

Here is the bathroom floor.

Cool.

Love that.

Very thoughtful.

At this point, cancer recovery feels less like a finish line and more like a series of weird little obstacle courses.

Jump over fatigue.

Dodge the hot flash.

Crawl under the brain fog.

Balance on numb feet.

Avoid germs.

Manage swelling.

Protect the nails.

And now, sprint to the bathroom before the Lupron gremlin wins.

I would like to speak to whoever designed this course.

Preferably while holding a shoe.

For now, I am trying to listen to my body.

Ginger ale.

Nausea meds.

Small sips.

Rest.

Staying upright when I need to.

Trying not to panic.

Trying not to spiral.

Trying not to think too far ahead into the next shot, the next medication, the next possible side effect, the next thing my body may or may not tolerate.

One night at a time.

One symptom at a time.

One “please do not throw up again” prayer at a time.

This is not the update I wanted.

I wanted to say the first Lupron shot was no big deal.

I wanted to say my body handled it like a champ.

I wanted to say I was moving forward smoothly into the hormone blocker era.

But that would not be the truth.

The truth is, Thursday night sucked.

The truth is, vomiting is my personal side effect enemy.

The truth is, I am frustrated.

The truth is, I am tired of my body being a testing ground for new levels of nonsense.

The truth is, I am still doing it anyway.

Because that is what this journey keeps asking of me.

Do the thing.

Handle the side effect.

Complain appropriately.

Make a joke if possible.

Rest when needed.

Keep going.

So yes, Lupron has officially entered the chat.

And apparently, it did not come quietly.

It came with nausea, vomiting, and a dramatic bathroom entrance.

Tiny Tina is not amused.

Not even a little.

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One Badass Day at a Time