Better Living Through Pharmeceuticals

Ah, to Hormone Replacement, or not to Hormone Replacement. That is the question. I can tell you that if you knew me for the past year, you would have said, HORMONE. REPLACEMENT. YES. NOW. HOW SOON CAN YOU GET IT INTO YOUR SYSTEM, SISTER?

I know, I know. You're thinking, this woman is loco, doesn't she know it causes cancer in your lady parts? Yes, the answer is that she does know, but she also knows that when it comes right down to it, sometimes YOU GOTTA DO WHAT YOU GOTTA DO. Feeling utterly miserable 24/7 is a valid reason to want to replace your dwindling hormones. Or at least that's where I finally arrived. On the Good Ship, I AM LOSING MY MIND BECAUSE I HAVE NO ESTROGEN OR PROGESTERONE. All aboard, we're setting sail to CRAZY TOWN.

Let me just stop here and tell you that the last thing I ever thought I would do was consent to go on hormone replacement. I have been vehemently against it FOREVER. My sister has been using it for a decade and when I would whine and cry and call her to tell her that I was trying to find a roof that was high enough to kill me if i jumped and not just maim me, she would gently suggest I try it and I thought what you thought, DOESN'T SHE KNOW IT GIVES YOU CANCER IN YOUR LADY PARTS? Now, my sister is a very smart and she loves to research something until there is not a shred of anything she doesn't know. And that's exactly what she did with hormone replacement. This girl did her reading. And googling. And doctor visiting. And she decided it was worth the risk and could, maybe even be a good thing to do for your health. Yes, that is actually what she found that some very intelligent people's think.

Well, there wasn't much she could do to convince me because I generally like not to do stuff that will increase my chances of getting cancer. It seems like there's so many things that can give you the big C, why improve your odds if you can help it? But that was when I was just irritated by the acne on my chin, and the crankiness and the brain fog. That was before the year of the hot flashes and sleepless nights. That was BEFORE the bleak and hopeless thinking started. The thought that maybe I should find a nice ice floe and set sail into the sunset with a bad magazine and a pint of Ben and Jerry's.

Yup, this is what it's like

Here’s the thing. It’s not funny. I can’t sleep through the night. I’m like the scene in Broadcast News where Albert Brooks is trying out for the anchor position at his station. He ‘s sitting behind the desk reading the news and a viewer calls in because he’s sweating so profusely they think he’s having a heart attack. That’s me. About ten times a day and three times a night. Soaked like I just got out of a pool. Hot like I’m in the middle of summer in Manhattan with no share in the Hamptoms. I have seriously considered stripping down to my underwear in the middle of the produce aisle at Whole Foods, except for the next not funny thing about what’s happening to me, is that people would run if I stripped down to my underwear in the produce aisle at Whole Foods (once upon a not so short time ago, they would have stuck around and stared). But now I look a little like I have one of those inner tube floaty things around my waist. The kind you wear when you can’t really swim. What waist, you might say, because it’s positively non-existent these days. Sometimes I think I have the inner tube thingy so that won’t drown in my own sweat. If that’s not it, then I don’t know the reason that the five pounds I can’t get rid of, is perfectly positioned around my middle. But who am I to ask, and furthermore, I wouldn’t remember to ask, because I can barely remember what my name is (I think it starts with a “T”). Today I actually forgot what I was saying in the middle of saying it. Forgot, just went perfectly blank, a big white board, appeared where I used to store words and thoughts. My memory is tripping through Europe with a back pack, having a blast and I’m left back here in the states without a rewind button. Which makes me really angry, but then again, what doesn’t? My crankiness is bigger than my middle. I mean, half the time I ‘d like to take out my entire family with a dull paring knife. And I like them. Yeah, menopause. It’s no time to pause. I want this to end as quickly as possible. I feel under attack and overweight. I feel overwhelmed and underappreciated. I feel like I’m going to possibly kill a person or two when I’m walking my dog, just because they’re walking by me. It’s not funny. No really. It’s not funny. Unless, of course, you look at it that way.