Menopause bites

Menopause bites, and I have the hickey to prove it.

I have medium fair skin with sun damage (hey, in the seventies we hadn’t even heard of worrying about our skin’s future after sun damage). Now in the early stages of meno, my neck and upper chest look like they’ve been gnawed on by chipmunks. I just started noticing the redness over the past few months, but I think it’s been going on for a while now and I’d just ignored it, thought it was sunburn or a slight flushing from exertion. 

Then I realized I hadn’t been out in the sun. My latest exertion doesn’t go much beyond climbing a couple of flights of stairs. It’s not sunburn or flushing, and it shows no signs of going away. 

It’s not itchy, not flaky, (thank goodness for small favors), just red, blotchy and unappealing.

Menopause has already made me humble about my appearance, and now this.

Isn’t it enough that although my weight is the same, my waist has disappeared? Can’t menopause be satisfied with the plain old age spots on my hands and cheeks? Must my sagging jaw line now compete with the neon signage of the red blotches on my chest that scream “She’s in menopause! Ha-ha-ha! Look at that tomato skin!”

Some women might say, “Oh, just put a turtleneck on and forget it!” Point well-taken, but living in the South and already being “warm” in general from roller-coaster hormones has me unwilling to turtleneck-it. What have I got to be ashamed of?

So I’m going to brash it out. The plan: wear my usual v-necks, and dare anyone to look twice at me, yes, getting my glow on. 

Go ahead, I just dare ya.

Menopause meets an earthquake.

I was in a webinar on the second floor of our library with about 15 other people when the earthquake hit coastal North Carolina and the community college campus where I work. We are in a town with several military bases.

What went through my mind when the room started to sway, buck, and roll:

1.      I’m having a “spell”

2.      My meds are going haywire

3.      We’re under attack

4.      I didn’t hear any explosion

5.      The power is still on, so it can’t be Armageddon

6.      The other people in the room are feeling it too

7.      I’m going to fall off my chair

8.      When is this going to stop

9.      This is too quiet to be an earthquake

10.   Where’s the nearest nuclear plant

11.   I’m freaking out, the room is closing in on me

12.   Are we really going to sit here like nothing happened?

By this time the woman leading the webinar realized something was up and we weren’t paying any attention to her. Our building is shaking, we told her.

Her location is Manhattan, next to Madison Square Garden.

Then she said her building was shaking, too, and we heard fire alarms going off in the background. She apologized for the noise and went on with the webinar. Knowing New York was shaking too, was frankly terrifying to me. I was thinking multiple attacks near the 10-year anniversary of 9/11.

We asked her: Don’t you need to leave your building if the fire alarms are going off? Nah, she said, and kept going with her presentation. One tough cookie. Or a person in deep denial.

I never absorbed another word from her for the next 10 minutes. Just sat there trying not to freak out any more than I already was. FINALLY, we left the building. When we got outside, a student told us there had been an earthquake in Virginia.

This might not seem like good news, but compared to what I had been thinking, it was a huge relief. Thankfully, it seems that no one was seriously hurt.

LESSON LEARNED: Don’t wait for permission to leave if the building is shaking for any reason. Evacuate the building. Get the heck out of there!

Hopefully I won’t have to put this lesson learned into effect for another 50 years. Now, let me check the weather channel to see when hurricane Irene is due to arrive!

Murder by Menopause

Top 10 people, events, and things I almost committed murder over, even if I wasn't sure whom to murder.

Brought to you by menopause.

1. the young lady in the supermarket who blocked the whole 2-cart-wide aisle while she debated interminably over potato chips and ignored me trying to push my cart down the aisle on a day I was exceedingly exhausted and did not want to be in the supermarket in the first place
2. the hairy guy in the huge white pickup truck who flipped me the bird. Why, you ask? I had the audacity to signal I was going to make a left turn, causing him to have to slow down slightly for 3 seconds
3. the pimple on my 54 year-old chin
4. the neighbors behind me who have every square inch of their yard covered with plastic toys and swings and slides that their children never play with, but I have to look at every day. I know, I know, free country, blah, blah, blah.
5. the person who does not respond to my smile and hello but walks by me like I'm invisible. I want to stick my leg out and trip her as she goes by with her nose in the air. Yes, are you amazed by my emotional maturity?
6. the college students on my campus—COLLEGE STUDENTS-- who cough and hack and then with full p-tuie sound effects SPIT a huge wad of mucous out on the sidewalk just a few feet away from me and my sandal-clad feet. Isn't there an ordinance from about the year 1790 that says “don't spit on the sidewalk?” Am I wrong to expect common sense from anyone at any time?
7. the same as above who spit their chewing gum on the sidewalk where in about 1,000 years it may finally decompose
8. the same as above who bypass the convenient outside cigarette butt collectors, jauntily flipping their butts on the ground outside the doors to campus buildings where they will remain for 25 years or until someone making minimum wage comes along to sweep the butts up. Perhaps throwing their trash on the ground for another person to pick up is their way of putting America back to work?
9. the girl talking on the cell phone in the bathroom stall who then leaves the bathroom without washing her hands. Was she raised by wolves? Sorry, wolves. Didn't mean to insult you.
10. using the last pill in my pack of Prempro.
    Don't worry, my husband took my bullets away.

12 Helpful Items to Help Get You Through Menopause

In no particular order, just like my hormonal state...

1. Miracle Foot Repair with aloe. You won't believe what happens to your feet.
2. An e-reader. I can't tell you how many times another book to read (without having to go to the bookstore) has kept me from doing something drastic! My Kindle has kept me out of the headlines!
3. The nicest cotton sheets you can afford. My favorites are from JC Penney, QVC, and Home Goods. Cotton for all those hot (not in a good way) nights!
4. A lighted, magnifying mirror. Yes, this item is a double-edged sword. You can see all the crazy changes to your face, but without it you can't see where to pluck or apply makeup.
5. A brand of makeup you can live with. For me, it's mineral makeup. I grew up a non-makeup girl, and still don't wear it all the time. But some days, we can't face the world without the war paint. Is that a pun?
6. A scent that always makes you feel like at least you smell nice. Nothing too heavy! Don't be one of those girls that make people cringe when they find themselves in the elevator with you. I like Amazing Grace from Philosophy. It's around $50.00 but worth the splurge for the way it makes me feel I'm still feminine. And I'm still using my bottle from about a year ago.
7. Dove soap.
8. Vaseline Intensive Care body lotion. In a 55 gallon drum size.
9. Era free and clear, or the color-free/odor free/detergent of your choice. Wash your undies in this, and use the 2 rinse cycle. Keeps irritation at bay. Enough said. Thanks to my fabulous G.P., Dr. Janice Dickerson, for this suggesting this one.
10. That reminds me. A great doctor who is in your corner. If she's a woman, more better. Sorry, men doctors.
11. A great blogging buddy or two. Nothing beats knowing you are not (totally) crazy, and that you are not alone. Thanks, Home Reared Chef!
12. If you can, adopt a homeless pet. My pet who sticks to me like glue is Smokey, a beautiful and loving long haired cat who was living in the woods with her kittens. We found homes for the kittens, and now Smokey follows me around and sleeps next to my pillow. While loving me unconditionally, she reminds me that my purpose in life is to open doors for cats.

why a non-Mommy reads Mommy blogs

One of my favorite Mommy bloggers told me she was amazed that non-Mommies like me READ and ENJOYED her blog. Got me thinking…

I read all kinds of blogs, including Mommy blogs.

As a non-Mommy, why do I enjoy reading Mommy blogs?

1.         If I only read non-Mommy blogs, I wouldn’t have as many blogs to read. Just saying.

2.       Mommies are people, too.

3.       Mommies are funny. Very funny.

4.       Mommies are busy. They inspire/prod/guilt-trip me. If they can make time to write blog posts, why can’t I?

5.       I might have been a Mommy in another life.

6.       Mommies can be so comforting.

7.       I want to understand Mommies. I see/talk to/teach Mommies every day.

8.       My mother is a Mommy. So were my grandmothers. So are some of my friends.

9.       Gratitude: at least I don’t have to feed more than 2 people at a time. Or diaper anyone. Most days.

10      Mommies are fascinating. Just like the rest of the peoples. Shazam!

Thank you, Mommy bloggers!

confessions of a sick person -- rambling post

Have you ever had doctors fighting over you? Talk about a strange feeling.

One doc thinks I had Lyme disease. The other doc thinks I had Rocky Mountain spotted fever or human Parvo. I know, I thought only dogs got Parvo, too.

 

Makes me feel special, and not in a good way.

I just want to get rid of the random joint pain and fatigue, so that my so-called life may continue. And I want to lose the eye floaters that are spiraling around my vision like orbiting planets. And the migraines. I’ve had migraines since I was 12, but nowadays they are way too frequent. Menopause and its myriad of symptoms is not helping with any of this.

My advice: stay away from ticks and just say “no” to Menopause.

I’m so tired of being tired, I’m tired of thinking so much about my mental and physical health. I know everyone around me is tired of my list of symptoms. When they very kindly ask how I’m doing, I just say fine. Who wants to hear about my latest bit of weirdness?

Bear with me—I promise this isn’t just me calling for the “wha”mbulance, as Schmutzie at Schmutzie.com would say. What a fab site, by the way.

One “positive” (that doesn’t seem like the correct word) note is the number of blogs I’ve discovered about people with similar health problems. Dozens of people blog about migraine, for instance. I’m comforted when I read about the therapies migraineurs have used. I can try some of the suggestions they have for coping with headaches. 

The women who write about menopause are truly brave. My favorite is on Blogher.com -- Virginia at the Home-Reared Chef. Hi, Virginia! You rock! You have mad writing skills, lady!

I don’t care what anyone says, it’s still taboo in most circles to bring up menopause. It’s the elephant in the room that we menopausal women are supposed to pretend doesn’t impact our lives. Even other women can be quite judgmental. Just because they breezed through menopause without a tremor doesn’t mean that some of us aren’t experiencing a daily earthquake. For years at a time.

These health blogs about menopause, migraine, depression, and more, help put my troubles in perspective. Help keep me going. I’m not happy that they are sick, but I appreciate that these bloggers share how they manage. Makes me feel less alone. Like maybe I can get through this, one day at a time.

Some people count themselves lucky for a few hours a month that are free from migraine. I’m not in that bad of a place, even though the place I’m in does stink. Some people can’t get out of bed because of depression. I cried my way to work more days than I can count in the last year, but thanks to 4 prescription meds I was able to get out of bed and go to work. 

Some people would be appalled if they knew that I’m taking a lot of prescription drugs. I haven’t told more than a couple friends just how many I’m taking. Sometimes I feel very defensive about my drug therapies, but someone who has not experienced clinical depression has NO right to judge us. 

Before this bout with depression (menopause related) I had no idea of the physical, crushing sensation in one’s chest that is possible with depression. The debilitating nature of insomnia. Or how the tears could just start flowing apropos of nothing. How you can’t just “get a grip” or “snap out of it.” I’ve learned that positive self-talk is good, I have little mantras to use when it’s a particularly bad moment, can drop my mind into guided imagery, but I know in my heart without the drugs I might not (almost certainly would not) be making it. How sweet it would be if a little exercise, sunlight, and St. John’s wort would make it all better, but this depression did not respond to milder remedies.

I’ve learned a lot from being depressed. I was never that much of a believer in “better living through chemistry.” But NOW: if a chemical cocktail can keep me functioning, out of a psych ward, and spare me from Electro Convulsive Therapy, then get out of my way as I head to the CVS. 

I have a lot of students who are struggling with depression, PTSD, and a laundry list of other health problems. Some students are very upfront about their battles, some, like me, try to fly under the radar. I understand them all a little better since I’ve had these health battles over the past years. 

When someone I meet, perhaps a checker in a store, seems to be having a bad day, I try to understand that she/he might REALLY BE HAVING A HORRIBLE DAY AND JUST TRYING TO SURVIVE ONE MINUTE AT A TIME. She might be battling depression, menopause, some critical illness, OR have a loved one who is battling one or more of those issues.

I try to remember to offer a kind word. From time-to-time a stranger says something particularly kind to me, out of the blue. It helps. For a minute, the world brightens. Maybe that’s one of the not-so-little reasons we’re here on this planet?

I'm still here... But I'm a Big Baby!

Oh, my heck. Hello blog universe. I haven’t forgotten you. I’ve been sick!

I was reading Janelle at Renegade Mothering, http://www.renegademothering.com/ and lady, I concur. Janelle has been sick, too. She doesn’t have health insurance at the moment. Been there, and it stinks. She and her family can’t afford $1,000 a month to bridge the temporary gap until they are insured again. Even though I have health insurance more or less paid for by my employer, I pay almost $600.00 a month to insure my self-employed husband. Our vehicles have a combined age of gosh, 25 years, so that we can make that premium.

I can’t believe that people in our country can actually lose their homes and go bankrupt because they got SICK. And that can and does happen even if the sick person played by the “rules,” drives a 12 year-old car and has so-called “health insurance.” This is Wrong, Wrong, Wrong.

I’m lucky enough that I currently do have health insurance through the state of North Carolina. I’m trying to feel lucky, anyway. It’s definitely better than nothing, but as insurance goes, it ain’t great and they are daily taking away benefits, raising co-pays, and generally doing their best to send teachers further into despair (because teachers caused my state’s budget, crisis, right?).

 I was in the hospital for a 4 hour outpatient procedure TWO YEARS AGO and I am still coughing up $100.00 a month to pay off the bill that was not covered by insurance. So we don’t go out to eat very much. Almost never. But hey, we do eat. And I keep decent tires on the old car. Counting blessings….

But the health care situation in this country? It ain’t right, especially when I’m SICK.

When I’m sick, I’m ANGRY. I’m scared. I’m weepy. I make myself even more miserable, sure that every ache is the precursor to PAINFUL DEATH.

I am not good at SICK. My imagination runs wild. I see myself becoming an invalid, my husband leaving me (he’s sticking to me like a barnacle—hi, honey), and so THERE’S ME, dying sad and alone. Just because I have a fever of 102 and bad body aches. I am officially SUCH A BABY.

And crazy high liver enzymes. What the heck? My liver is one of those body parts that I know I need, but that I kind of take for granted IS going to work, for Pete’s sake. I don’t drink, don’t use drugs, don’t have hepatitis, etc., so what in the blue blazes does my liver have to go off ALL CRAZY about?

Please, liver, hang in there for me.

So I’ve been downing doxycycline, a powerful antibiotic that also makes me feel even more fevered and achy, because the only thing the doc has come up with is that I may have Lyme disease from a tick bite at the end of April. Whatever you do, DO NOT GOOGLE LYME DISEASE.

All I previously knew about Lyme was that you got it from a tick bite, and some people got really sick and maybe even died from it. Now I know all that, and that some people may really, really suffer, then die from Lyme. For a person with imagination, it’s hard to imagine an infectious disease that sounds too much scarier. Goodness, Magic Johnson has HIV and he looks pretty spiffy.

Some sick people are INCREDIBLY courageous. I know this from watching various loved ones. They have set me an example of suffering nobly.

The example hasn’t worked. I don’t suffer nobly. I feel incredibly sorry for myself. I cry, using up boxes of Kleenex at the thought of my painful demise. I’ve had a good life, I decide, but I’m just not ready to go yet! Boo-hoo-hoo.

Finally, I finished the two week course of doxycycline yesterday. And you know what?

I think I’m going to live. I trust my Doc Lady, and she’s all over this mysterious thing. They have taken, no lie, 25 vials of blood, a chest x-ray, 2 urine samples, and have an ultrasound planned. Of course, they’ve poked, prodded, squeezed, and checked me for spots.

Her nurse called me this morning. After 4 long weeks of blood tests, my liver enzymes came back normal. Normal!

It felt like the best gift ever. I was elated, people. They’ll still do the ultrasound of my liver to check for damage, but I feel like my liver is back to being a friend. I love you, liver!

Janelle (Renegade Mothering) said one of best results of being sick is how great it feels to be well again. So, so true. I’m not totally there yet, but I see it on the horizon. And I’m hoping.