OH! The joys and miseries of Womanhood!
Well, that just scared away 1/2 my audience and the other 1/2 will probably slink out of here momentarily. (A total viewing audience of 4 makes that an easy assumption.)
Over the past few months, which really isn’t a long time yet feels like a decade, I’ve been feeling like crappity crap crap. Which is at least 3 x’s worse than your average feeling o’ crappiness. As this blog is supposedly a platform upon which to share my life and creative endeavors, (hardee har har), I can’t ignore the fact that just getting through the day is about all the creative endeavor I can muster. (Not to mention that my blog is a sham.)
As a reasonably intelligent person I am aware that my symptoms are ca-lassic for menopause. When it comes to the many injustices of our mortal existence, I believe that the hormones that make women women have to be among the cruelest of them all. Second only to the fact that all delicious food is bad for you. Really, why did God create chocolate and sugar? Yeah, I know, something to do with opposition in all things, but still…
That logic does not apply to Women. To say that it does makes me crazy; why would any part of being female have been created “evil”? Unfortunately, the history of the world makes it clear that women have long been, dare I say ALWAYS, considered inferior to men, and in that way we are considered deficient and therefore, dare I say, evil. And the worse part of it all is that Male and Female alike believe this!
That is a tangent I am choosing not to travel down today.
I did go the Lady Doc a few weeks ago, looking forward actually to discussing with her how blechy I’ve felt and thinking that she’d figure out what to do and lickety split, I’d feel like myself again. A new and improved version of myself. Yet not once did Lady Doc say the word Menopause, even though I am 50 years old and expressing many of the symptoms. Looking back I do not know why I didn’t bring up the M-word, but Lady Doc had the idea that it was my thyroid causing all the symptoms and then I thought that my thyroid hormones, (there’s that word again), were the culprit. When the nurse called me and told me I was in the normal range and I told her that I still felt like crap, she hemmed and hawed and I got nothing. Still no M-word, no discussion about what might be going on.
And I did nothing. Except to continue to live with night sweats, hot flashes, feeling angry yet apathetic, (talk about opposition), and a bunch of other cruelties. Everyday I’d have the intention to call the Dr., yet put it off thinking, based on past experience, that it wouldn’t do any good. Besides, after a while you get to accustomed to how you feel, and forget that something isn’t right. Kinda.
Yesterday I went a different kind of Dr. for different reasons and I mentioned my symptoms. We talked and she came to the same conclusion that I originally had, and that it was my glorious hormones messing with me. Well, I came home, (after a detour to the mall), ready to fight for myself and called the Dr.’s Office. Actually left a message for the nurse and she called me back. Guess what I got?
NOTHING. I felt dumb and defensive-like I’d done something wrong. I had to bite my tongue to stop myself from apologizing! Oh, she’s gonna leave a message for the Dr., but
I know I’m pretty sure I’ll never hear back. I’ll probably be reminded that my blood tests were NORMAL so shut up. Yeah. Tell that to my hormones.
This pisses me off. On top of feeling like I’ve been run over by a truck everyday, a hot sweaty chubby moody truck, I can’t get no respect. I am right, and they are wrong, and I’m gonna go Dr. shopping.
I am woman, Hear me rawr.
Enough with being serious!!
It’s picture time!!
Legend tells us that the final stage of womenopause is “Cat Lady”.