I didn’t think I would mind aging.  I was happy not having a period…gleefull even.  The children grew up without prison records, and I could spend time alone if I chose.  These were things I had been looking forward to for quite a long time.  However, there are things — things no one tells you — things more closely guarded than our national borders… significantly.  No one ever told me that with menopause came chin whiskers.  Yup, you need a special friend you know will tweeze your chin if you find yourself in a coma because you do not want to wake up and find you have become a bearded lady.  Don’t count on your kids, they will probably think this is funny.  Also, no one tells you about memory loss or the ridiculously dry skin or the memory loss. 

But the major, major, problem is the organ failure.  You heard me.  All of the organs that have been serving you all the days of your life have decided to play by different rules.  Sometimes you are freezing.  It doesn’t matter what the temperature says or what the thermostat says or, God help him, what your husband says.  You’re freezing.  You must have warmth.  Two minutes later you will be sweating bullets and throwing clothes, and it doesn’t matter how comfortable any other creature around you is – you are the only one of importance.  To this you must add the fact that your uterus has become foreign.  From the time I was twelve, I knew that every twenty-eight days I would have a period.  If I had not had a period by day twenty-nine, I was pregnant.  I thought menopause meant a pause would occur that would have nothing to do with pregnancy.  I was dumb enough to think that menopause was a pause in the menses.  Oh hell no!!  No one told me that in a whole lot of women before they stop having periods… they have really crazy periods.  ALOT!!  I was so anemic I felt like a snack pack for a vampire! Migraines increased during this time frame.  Okay — follow me — I am bleeding like a hemophiliac on heparin with a headache that would make Mother Theresa cuss like a sailor, then (let’s frost this cake) my emotions are all over the map.  Room full of gas… you just know someone is going to light a match… child: “why are you being such a bitch today?”  Me: sweeping up body of dead child. 

In the seventies everyone told us that having babies naturally was the thing to do.  So I did.  No meds.  No nothing.  All natural.   Screw that, I want mine now.  I didn’t take drugs then, the way I figure it they owe me.   One week ago I had to have surgery because my organs were all screwed up because I carried three kids and blah, blah, blah, and now I am laid up in bed with those three going and doing there own thing and leaving me lying here like a lump of Spam.  I’m hurt.  I want my drugs.  Now mind you, I have a wonderful husband.  He wants me to have my drugs too.  I went to my family Dr. and told him I wanted drugs.  He gave me lots.  He gave me anti-depressants, acid reflux meds, meds for migraines, meds for migraine prevention,  meds to help me sleep, meds for my cholesterol level,  but nothing just because I’m pissed off.  He sent me to a rheumatologist.  The rheumatologist gave me meds.  He gave me shots in my knees, and shots in my shoulders, and shots in my ankles, and anti-inflammatory meds, and “moderate” pain killers and he sent me to a orthopedist.  He did MRIs and put me in splints and physical therapy and electrical units and blah, blah, blah, and I was still pissed and I still hadn’t gotten my drugs!!!

I went to my OB-GYN.  I love my OB-GYN (except when she tells me how much I remind her of her mother) and I told her how pissed I’ve been.  I told her how ripped off I have been feeling about having been denied my drugs during childbirth and not getting them now.  More importantly I told her about all the crap I’ve been going through with this menopause thing and how gross and disgusting all this bleeding had made me feel, and how things were hanging out in places that shouldn’t, and how moods weren’t jolly and people weren’t reasonable and how I would laugh but if I did (too hard) I just might pee my pants. And…my OB-GYN (Bless her heart) said “let’s take it all out” and she did. 

Now I know people are going to scream that this isn’t necessary.  SCREW YOU!!!  It worked for me. Immediately after that my hot flashes stopped. My mood improved. Obviously the bleeding ended, and I no longer felt gross.  Until just recently when I noticed something emerging from somewhere that nothing had emerged from since 1985. So I went back to see my OB-GYN she immediately knew what the problem was and scheduled more surgery with more blessed drugs. Now when things flare up I bypass all the male doctors and go straight to my female doctor. When I recover from my little remodel there is no telling what I may take on, but right now I am going to milk this for all it is worth.

I know that aging doesn’t have to be hard.  I know that it depends on your outlook, but a lot of your outlook might depend on who you have on your side to talk to.  If you don’t get the answers you want…keep asking.  Don’t wait till someone call’s you a bitch to do something about it.  I mean it.  It’s really hard to get dead kid out of the carpet!  Now, if you’ll excuse me, it’s time for my pill.

 

 

No Comments »

No comments yet.

RSS feed for comments on this post. TrackBack URL

Leave a comment

You must be logged in to post a comment.