FEELING THE BURN

BAM!… without warning… a blistery HOT sensation made its way from the pit of my stomach, looped through my ribcage, and soared up through my chest. I was seeing RED. Like, BLAZING, fire engine RED. And as I recall, it was unrestrained, unmitigated and irrational.

Did it stop there? Not a chance.

With uncompromising effort, it shimmied up my neck and finally, with feverish determination… landed upon… my face. That in-your-face does not begin to describe this full-scale assault. Something was not quite right.

Is it hot in here, or is it just me?

(Spoiler: it was ME!)

But it wasn’t just the hot, hot, HOT happenings. It was ME going from zero to one hundred in response to a perceived injustice.

AND along with the hotheaded retaliations and technicolor transformation of my mug was the subtle glistening of my skin… subtle? … more like profuse sweating while being perfectly still. It also seemed that overnight my waistline expanded in ways I never thought possible. Suddenly my pants developed a lack of enthusiasm to being buttoned. Cute.

AND lest I forget… the parched pain (you know where). Charming.

Does the fun ever stop?

Not for me!

So I did what any semi-rational person would do and hastily made an appointment with my drug dealer doctor frantically appealing for help. Like nowwwww doc!!

My ‘drug of choice’? Zoloft. An adorable child-size dose; according to my dealer doctor. Sometimes my husband casually (and very carefully) inquires, “Do you need to up your dose?” Funny.

To be perfectly honest, when I was going through “it”, the details were quite murky. I mean, what did I really know about menopause?

Hot flashes.

And that’s about it.

Why in the world was the body’s biggest transition after puberty being whispered about in hushed tones? If at all.  If it was any more hush-hush, it would need its own classified security code. I mean, you’d think facial recognition enough would have been a rather obvious clue. So why so under wraps?

Oooohhh I know… the lived experience had been conspicuously missing from the conversation… #maledoctors

Male docs who often thought of menopause as something to be cured. Or dismissed. As in, it’s all in your head. But when the lived experience – the real, sometimes hilarious, often challenging – is missing, it’s no wonder we’ve been offered selective information.

Is the tide is turning? I think so! Suddenly, menopause is no longer the silent “M” word. Just grin and bear it? I think not. We’re talking about it. There are podcasts popping up. Books hitting the shelves. AND research being done with actual women. Helloooo… there’s medical research focusing on women!! 

It took ‘em long enough.

As for me? Well… my inferno is a distant memory; physically extinguished but hardly forgotten. How could I forget all those casual conversations when out of nowhere hot steam would billow off my body and I was certain beads of sweat were pouring down my lobster red face? Memories.

And in spite of the fact that I am completely on the other side of all that fiery, sweaty, emotional intensity – the lady “fun” continues. So guess what’s in its place? The Sahara Desert. Taking up residence in my nether regions. I am not amused.

But my mid-section and I have reached a truce. And me and my badass, bitchin’, exquisite child-sized dose of Zoloft are still attached at the hip.

Oh menopause. Madcap, hot-headed, charming menopause. You are indeed the real deal. You are undeniably intense. Often inconsiderate. Highly temperamental. And, big AND, you deserve to be acknowledged, understood and discussed without shame or dismissal.

So, no, you are not some abnormal, uncommon ordeal, however, you are (without a doubt) one hell of a wild ride. To all you perimenopause-ers… best buckle up.

Thank goodness the knowledge volume has been turned way up, UP, UP. #weNOTcray-cray.

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