Then I thought, wow, this won’t be so bad. I’d change into something better. I would be like a butterfly emerging from the cocoon. I would fly wistfully into my golden years even wiser and more experienced.
Well, not so much.
I changed alright. I became a weather system all by myself; hot one minute, freezing the next with occasional mists and severe humidity. Then there was the bloating, the bleeding and the headaches. What was this…a joke? If it was it was – it was on me.
I also changed from a vibrant happy go-lucky woman to a cranky, tired and impatient crone. And that was on a good day.
I was pretty sure that this was not the change Mother Nature had in mind.
I sat across more than one doctor’s desk and told my story of woe seeking answers and remedies only to be scripted a new med to help ‘manage’ my condition. At one point I mentioned to a doctor that there were days I wanted to shoot myself in the foot to take my mind off of all the crazy cramping and headaches. He proceeded to put in my chart: patient is suicidal. Good grief, he couldn’t have been more wrong. My thoughts leaned more towards homicide.
I tried everything. I took herbal remedies, estrogen implants, acupuncture, drank black licorice teas and even partook in meditation. I even tried yoga, but was politely asked to leave by the instructor. Evidently whining and complaining is forbidden on the yoga mat.
At the end of the journey I landed a comfortable hospital room with an extended stay of four nights (savory meals of beef broth included) and a removal of all my female organs. All I could think of was that I was pretty sure I had instantly lost five pounds. I didn’t.
Recuperation was another adventure. I didn’t stand straight for six weeks. I learned the value of the shuffle and saw my feet for the first time in decades.
Tooling around on the walker gave me a glimpse of my old age to come. I decided then and there that when the time came when I would have to use a walker, I would decorate it with bright plastic flowers and a sign that would read “Will work for chocolate”.
Today I’m pretty awesome. I have tremendous understanding and sympathy towards anyone suffering any of the symptoms of the change. I turn into Mother Theresa when I see the suffering. I offer sage advice like; don’t buy a gun, don’t invest in any property and don’t make any decisions about your personal life.
I’m not sure what the big deal is. Women have been changing for years. Every ten years or so we have to adapt, adjust and assimilate another life change. Kids leave, husbands do all kinds of crazy things, friends move, our bodies change without our permission and every month we do the curse dance of change. On top of that, I change my mind, my attitude and my direction constantly.
To all you vibrantly young women out there who are dreading the change; don’t. Live it up; enjoy your life, and your predictable body. Your time will come. I’m extending my sympathy to you now while secretly smiling just a little bit. As it turns out, misery does love company.
I’m still waiting for my change, but frankly, I’d prefer bills.