Cancer Treatment Put Me into Menopause – Here Is What That Actually Means
I was put into what they called “chemical menopause” in 2024.
I was 43
What I wanted was simple. To survive.
I had breast cancer, and part of my treatment involved being put into chemical menopause using a drug called Zoladex. Zoladex works by blocking the hormones that normally stimulate your ovaries and stops them from producing oestrogen. In simple terms, it shuts your ovaries down. Sometimes temporarily. Sometimes not.
Without ovarian suppression during chemotherapy, the risk of ovarian failure is around 40 percent. With the use of drugs like Zoladex, that risk reduces to around 25 percent.
Source The Royal Womens Hospital
https://www.thewomens.org.au/health-information/fertility-information/cancer-treatment-fertility/protecting-the-ovaries-during-chemotherapy
At the time, those numbers mattered. They felt like something solid in a situation that was anything but.
So I did the thing. And here’s a photo of what that thing looks like. It’s massive and goes straight into the lower abdomen. Look how thick it is?!
Zoladex injection!
I had Zoladex injections every three weeks for twelve months. They started in May 2024 and finished in May 2025. It is now January 2026, and my cycle has still not returned. Whether it ever will is a question that sits quietly in the background of my life.
The Side Effects No One Really Prepares You For
This is the part that does not get talked about enough.
Brain fog has been the biggest shock. I am not the same person. I forget conversations, names, and what I did last night. I walk into rooms with purpose and leave wondering why I am there. I used to be sharp. Now I spend a lot of time searching for my keys while holding them.
Hot flushes appear whenever they feel like it. During the day. At night. In the middle of a sentence. In the middle of sleep.
My libido has disappeared completely. It did not leave a note or a forwarding address.
I have gained weight, particularly around my stomach, despite doing all the things I am supposed to do. My body seems convinced that survival mode means storing energy indefinitely.
And just to round things out nicely, I also have no breasts due to a mastectomy. So yes, chemically menopausal, foggy, sweaty, heavier, no libido, and flat. It is a lot.
The Part That Still Matters
Here is the truth I come back to when it feels overwhelming.
I would do it all again.
Every injection. Every side effect. Every uncomfortable change.
Because it extended my life.
That does not mean it is easy.
That does not mean it is fair.
And it does not mean I am not allowed to grieve the version of myself that existed before all of this.
Chemical menopause is not just physical. It affects how you think, how you feel, how you see yourself, and how you imagine your future. It is not just menopause. It is menopause forced on you while you are still recovering from cancer.
Learning How to Live Here
I am still learning how to live in this body.
Still figuring out what is permanent and what might improve.
Still adjusting expectations, both mine and everyone elses.
Some days I cope well. Other days I feel like I have aged twenty years overnight and misplaced my personality somewhere along the way.
But I am here.
And for now, that has to be enough.
If you are walking this path too, especially earlier than you expected, know this. You are not weak, broken, or failing. You are adapting to something you never chose, in a body that has already been through more than most.
Survival came first.
The rest we learn as we go.
