There are days (today) when you wake up angry with every stupid person on the planet – and every person on the planet is stupid. And your bed covers are way too hot and too heavy. And your night shirt is squeezing the life out of you. And your skin itches. So you change clothes and realize it’s not your night shirt, it’s your chest. Your chest is squeezing the life out of you. And then you do some math, and realize that for the past two weeks, you’ve been having this reaction after you take your new hormone replacement therapy medicine. And you sigh a sigh of relief, but not a deep sigh because your chest is so damn tight. And so you call your doctor to discuss this, leave a message with his nurse, and hope someone will get back to you before the weekend.
On That Same Day you go to Walmart to buy stuff for a thing. But they don’t have the stuff, so you don’t get to be the hero, you get to be the loser, but maybe that’s not so terrible because you can always donate dollars to someone with a Costco membership. And you start to feel a little better at the checkout when you realize you can sigh a deep sigh. It’s wearing off. The puppeteer holding the strings to your body and mind is settling down. So you walk to the exit (still $60 lighter, because you found other things you “need”), and as you approach the exit a woman comes walking up quickly behind you saying “Excuse me! Excuse me! I have to ask you something!” And so you turn around and try to sort out her face to see if you know her. You don’t. Well, you’re not sure. You’re never sure. Then she says that she hopes you’re not offended, but she has to ask you about your jeans. “Where did you get them? They look so good!” You smile and tell her and show her the design on the back pocket so she’s sure to get the right ones. You tell her you have two pairs of them. She says she’s relieved you weren’t upset at her for asking but they looked so good on you. How could you be upset with your new best friend?
You walk to the car. It’s raining. Warm rain in November. It feels good on your face. And you wonder who you really are. Option one: An old lady with estrogen problems, or, Option two: A woman who gets chased down because her jeans “look so good.” You hope others forgive you if all this sounds vain. But if they can imagine with you how quickly the miles of road between those two options are traveled, they will stand in the rain with you, just as drenched in astonishment as you are.
Menopause. It’s a crazy, wild, sometimes rainy, stretch of road.
But it has some nice curves.