Am I Even a Woman Anymore?

 Well, friend-os, it's apparently finally happened: I am hormonally infertile. 

Despite the fact that my test results say I'm "postmenopausal," as far as I know, "menopause" is defined as being a year after the start date of your last period. My last period actually started in December, but I've been dealing with 100-200-day gaps in my cycle since 2022. I'm only slightly older than the average onset of menopause, but it has felt like a long time coming.

By the way, the title of this blog post is a joke. I don't feel less like anything now that I'm not able to get pregnant (allegedly). I'm excited about a new phase of my life! And I'm determined to live long enough that I'll have had well over half of my life without having a period. 

Although my body has been playing games with me for more than three years now, I am extremely fortunate in that I haven't really had terrible symptoms (so far). Even when I haven't had a period, I've still been aware of cyclical hormonal fluctuations, to the point that for the first time in my life, I'm able to tell myself and the people around me, "I can tell I'm going to be more easily irritated than usual for the next couple of days. Just making you aware." Of course, I do try not to be a menace during that time, as well.

I thought I was getting a kind of "morning sickness" for a few months earlier this year, but think I figured out and fixed that and it was digestive.

I haven't had any "hot flashes/flushes," although I do find myself getting uncomfortably warm after I've had a burst of activity and finally sit down. I've been taking care of that with a little hand-held fan that I sit on the table and blow into my fact for about 10 minutes, then I'm fine.

Here's something you might not know about me: I didn't really want to have kids at all. 

However, I was married to two different men who very much wanted to have children. 

I'm grateful that they did, and thankful for how my life turned out, even if it's nothing like what I thought it would be. Honestly, I'm not sure I ever did think about what my life would look like... a lot of times, it feels like life is living me, but that's just fine because so far, so good. 

Here's to the next chapter...

I KNOW I said I wasn't going to do a whole post about my hair...

 ... but here's the deal: There's a lot.

First of all, when I realized I was getting some grey hair, back in late 2018, I decided that it was time to stop coloring my hair red and let it grow out. 

My rationale was that I didn't want to be one of those white-headed ladies with obviously fake red hair and shocking white roots.

It took about three to four years, but I was finally able to cut that last bit of dyed hair off and had my natural brown back, with some grey "highlights."

But THEN my hair had started changing into the wavy hair I mentioned a few posts ago. My hair had been absolutely straight, no body at all, my entire life. I guess it's perimenopause hormones, but it made my hair curly. 

Last summer, a hair-dresser misunderstood me when I said I didn't want layers and thought that I wanted my hair to match my "fringe," so she cut about 6 inches off of my length. 

What THAT did was to get rid of the remaining straight hair I had. 

Truth is, I needed that cut but was too much of a wimp to ask for such a drastic cropping.

It's so weird. This wavy hair came out of my head! New hair after half a century!

Well, I realized today that we're in another kind of "grow it out" waiting game.

In summer 2023, I started taking minoxidil. At the time, I assumed that I was losing hair because of perimenopause but now know that hair loss is a symptom of hyperparathyroidism. Regardless, my hair was thinning more than I was comfortable with when my hair was still mostly straight and very fine (it's still fine, but it looks thicker because of the volume).

Now, I figure we have about 18 months until my new growth catches up with the length I am keeping my hair these days.

I'm sure something else weird will happen by then and we'll get to start this process all over.

Summertime Blues (instead of reds)

It has been 103 days since the onset of my most recent period. (Editor's note: Made it 108 days and started on our way out the door to a water park. Happy birthday to me!)

Lest you have the urge to start doing the menopause dance, allow me to share with you my experience over the past 3 summers:

In 2022, I stopped having a period after July 10, only to pick back up on November 2 (116 days). After that, my cycles were fairly regular (for me), about 22-40 days in length.

In 2023, I stopped after June 6 and picked back up on November 5 (153 days). The periods leading up to that were wild. In April, I had a 10-day period! In May, we were in Montreal and it was only three days... but like, still as much as the 10-day one. Mal and I were on public transit for hours sight-seeing, and it was not tidy but it was our last full day in town and I didn't want to cut anything short!

It was this day. Man, I am ready to go back!

This year, my last period before summer break was absolutely terrible. It was again short, maybe 2 days, but it was so much in such a short time frame that it was overwhelming. I had lots of things to do, but if that ever happens again, I'll just stay home. I couldn't keep up.

Will I beat last year's record? I hope so. If ya gotta bleed, you could do it in a worse place than Montreal, but I don't want to be dealing with that on our vacation next month! So hopefully we again make it to at least November before anything happens.

What I do notice is that each year so far, the period before the break backs up one month: July in 2022, June in 2023, and May this year. Wish me luck and all that.

Then again, I did have my thyroid removed so who knows if or how that might affect it. My thyroid was functioning normally before, and now things are slightly "hot" until we make sure my antibodies are gone and start dialing back the dose.

Regardless, wish me luck... This process is very annoying and I'd like to be done with it!

Bits and Pieces

Hello, fellow Americans (and any other nationalities, honestly... all are welcome)!

Yesterday was Mother's Day in the US, and my local family came out to my house to visit. We had a nice afternoon hanging out, and I didn't have to do anything because James and Mal picked out snacks, my Dad brought food and plates, and it was just a fun time all around.

Today, I had an early appointment at a radiology office, not realizing that I was getting some nuclear imaging and a CAT scan. Woo hoo. Fun times. Before going into the imaging chamber, I got an IV of radioactive material! About two short hours and I was done. What a psychic workout, though.

First, the radiologist was trying to keep my elbows in place (the camera automatically keeps 1 inch between itself and a body, and she didn't want me moving my arms and making the camera back off). It was kind of like swaddling, and it was comfy enough... until she started lowering the imaging plate to within 2 inches of my nose and my claustrophobia kicked in. I pulled off the sheet and promised that I would keep my elbows tucked under my own power. She offered to try something different and I told her that if I felt restrained, there was no way I could do it. So we kept my arms free and everything was relatively fine after that.

I had 3 different 5-minute scans, during which I could not move. I was kind of restless after those, but THEN it was time for a 25-minute scan! That one did a number on me, as I tried to relax and maybe even nap since I'd gotten less sleep than usual the night before. But my body kept bringing me back into the moment by suddenly detecting an itch in my right ear canal. Then making me hyper aware that the muscles in my leg were clinched and I needed to relax. Then noticing that my pinkies were falling asleep from my crossing my fingers, which was how I was keeping my elbows from flopping around, so I couldn't really move them but I also couldn't forget about how much I wanted to move. However, when the machine beeped that it was over, I'd thought we were only at the halfway point. 

After the long scan, I had to go into a CAT scan machine still without moving because it had to line up with the previous images. The tech had to "stitch" the pictures, and I was trying not to say anything until there was a natural break, but by then I REALLY needed another visit to the restroom (one of the symptoms of the hypercalcemia caused by hyperparathyroidism is that my kidneys are always trying to jettison calcium, thus pulling moisture from my body and causing me to need to evacuate a minimum of hourly). Fortunately, she was able to let me go before we did the 3 final 5-minute scans.

Shortly after I got home, James had deja vu from last spring, when Indeed announced that it was laying off 8% of its work force. This time, James didn't keep his job, and he said he's mostly numb about it, but I think it will end up being a good thing. Morale has tanked since last year's down-sizing (the first mass layoffs Indeed had ever done), and he hasn't been happy for a while. 

Classes and extra-curriculars are shutting down for the summer. Mal has been out of Wednesday classes for two weeks. This Wednesday, we're going to to to the splash pad where we had his birthday party. I'm probably going to plan an activity every Wednesday that I can, just to avoid general malaise (although I love being home). Since Mal is enjoying public transit so much (we took the bus to Urban Air last week and had a great time), I'll see what I can find that is nearby convenient stops (we had to walk almost a mile between the stop and UA, but it was fun).

Thursday is Mal's last homeschool open gym until fall. And our Tuesday group is always lighter in the summer, with people traveling and dealing with summer custody arrangements.

But Mal's looking forward to YMCA movie-making camp in about a month! It'll be his first sleep-away camp, and I hope it's as magical as Camp Coral (a SpongeBob series), which is why I think he was interested in camp in the first place.

This last thing I'm going to tell you about... well, if you're squeamish or just don't like TMI, then stop reading and we'll see you next post. 

If you're still here, allow me to say: I'M TOO OLD FOR THIS! And by "this," I mean continuing my fertility. I, too, had deja vu today. We were in Montreal exactly a year ago (sigh) and the last full day we were in town, I took Mal to an indoor playground. We spent a LOT of time on public transit to get there. On the bus ride, I felt a kind of "swoosh" feeling that was weird. When we got to the playground, I went into the restroom and there was blood EVERYWHERE. I was wearing a menstrual cup (which I've used without leaks since 2010), AND period underwear. And still, my khaki slacks were absolutely drenched in blood.

I had a stain stick and pretty much used it up. It kind of diluted the visible blood, though it definitely looked like I'd peed myself. Oh well. I wasn't going to end the day early and travel an hour back to the hotel room just to change. I moved my stuff from a cloth seat to a leather chair and just dealt with it. It was fine; I didn't make a mess anywhere but on myself. Then Mal and I went to McD's before heading back several hours later.

(It's the next day).

Since then, I've had one overnight situation which hadn't happened since I stopped wearing pads in my early 20s. I determined to remember to change out IMMEDIATELY before bedtime from then on, and have done so.

But yesterday, as I used the restroom prior to my eternal scan situation, I realized I'd started my period. I'd gotten up in the dark so hadn't seen any clues at home. But by the time I made it to the radiology clinic, I suppose I'd been free-bleeding for about two hours. I didn't have on my period underwear (my periods are extremely irregular -- thanks, perimenopause! -- and I didn't get the usual two-day warning of hormone-induced stress this time. 

I had my cup with me as always, but had to do the whole procedure knowing that I'd bled straight through my jeans. Ehh. Got home, changed, was fine the rest of the day.

Then last night, I got the same feeling as on the bus a year ago. Got up and there was just blood EVERYWHERE. I don't understand what or how it is happening, but I'm over it. Cleaned up, went for a walk, could tell I was leaking. Had to change and clean up AGAIN when I got home.

Friends, I am almost 52 years old! This nonsense needs to stop. At least I will probably be at least mostly finished by next week. I don't want to have to do the pad/mesh underpants combo I discussed with the surgical nurse.

One Way to Spend a Day

Do you have periods? Do you hate them with a burning passion? Do you wish you could STOP having them? Have you, in fact, stopped having them as often and are super excited that you're about to be done with them forever? Do you think that there couldn't possibly be anything worse or more demoralizing than having to deal with bloody bodily fluids for several days per month?

Good news! There's something that is WORSE! It is so dehumanizing and challenging that it will push you to the brink of depression in a mere 24 hours!

I can tell: You're chomping at the bit. You're ready to hear what this miracle torture is. Well, great! I'll tell you.

It's called a 24-hour urine test. And if you're a lady and you go to Quest Diagnostics, they'll just hand you the same thing that I assume they hand a man: a container that looks vaguely like what you keep in the trunk of your car for in case you run out of gasoline and need to walk to a gas station and bring a half-gallon of gasoline back with you.

No instructions.

No way to collect the sample at all except to figure out how to eliminate into a small circle on a large jug that you will have to lower into the toilet, resulting in your having to clean the toilet, around the toilet, and the jug EVERY TIME YOU GO TO THE RESTROOM.

______________

I started this blog post 2 weeks ago, just after I'd done this. It sucked. It also confirmed that I have hyperparathyroidism, so I'm going in for a throat ultrasound and a bone density scan this afternoon. Fun times. Even the surgery to remove any offending parathyroid glands would be better than that stupid urine test. Also, if I had to choose between doing that 24-hour urine test or colonoscopy prep, I'd pick the colonoscopy prep every time.

Furthermore, I went 155 days without a period and started up again the day before we left for Phoenix last week. Good times. It was 118 days last year; wonder what I'll get up to next year or the year after before finding myself pregnant at the age of 62.

A Novel's Perfect First Sentence...

"I was 50 years old when I finally got my nose pierced."

That's it. That's how the novel opens.

I don't actually know what happens after that, but the mind reels at the possibilities.

No cap, though, before James's and Mal's plane had landed in Seattle, I'd gotten a new tattoo (small rainbow on my neck; first one with color!) and my nose pierced. They're my birthday present to me.

See? It's super subtle!

I said "No cap" so you'll think I'm hip. I did the nose piercing because I freaking wanted to; they're so pretty and I've wanted one for a while. I'm a wimp, though, so it's not a septum piercing. I don't see how my Sapphic sisters do that. Also, cool thing about the hormonal whirlwind that might just be "the change," I am getting acne now. Good times. The day after my piercing, I developed a zit right above the site. Trying to manage that whilst also not really touching my nose in order to prevent an infection has been a lot of fun.

My birthday's in a couple of weeks, and James and Mal are on a short trip to see James's brother's family, including Luke the whippet. Seems like they're keeping busy and will probably both just crash out when they get home Monday night. Fortunately, James took Tuesday off to recover, and Mal's a kid so he doesn't really have much to do but catch up on rest when he gets here.

Since they've been gone, I've had lunch with my sister (her treat!), cleaned and organized James's office, done the permanent body modifications, had dinner with my friend Elana (her treat!) and our older kids, streamed a lot of television content while I was doing other stuff, swept and mopped all of the house where that's possible, cleaned the kitchen and bathrooms, had dinner with D (my treat!), and am planning to enjoy a morning all alone tomorrow when D starts their new job. Oh, and I've kept up with my DuoLingo Spanish lessons.

James was remarking the other day that I don't just sit down and chill a lot. I've really not been doing too much of that since he and Mal have been gone, but I've been doing more of it than usual.

Another fun possibly-perimenopausal-hormone-related thing, I'm getting so much less sleep than I have for most of my life. I typically need a GOOD 8 hours to function, and I'm getting more like 6.5-7.25 hours per night. I think I'm doing okay, but just have to get used to the fact that I need less sleep. So far, I haven't been plagued by the insomnia that is often present in women of a certain age. Guess we'll see how that goes.

It's Sunday now, so it's D's work orientation. It might not be necessary, because D might have a short day, but I'm planning to pack a sack lunch just in case they need food.

Then I'm going to try to roll out the dough I made yesterday for some hopefully fun sugar cookies I'm putting together for our LGBT-friendly homeschool meet-up group we started exactly one year ago! We have a great little den of friends from that. They're awesome kids, and I feel like they would be the antidote to folks who want to avoid their own children knowing about queer folks to "protect their innocence." Our awesome kids are about as starry-eyed and wholesome as you'd want kids to be. There's not a bully or mean girl among them. They're not perfect, but they're all great people who care about and enjoy each other so much. I'm super lucky I've gotten to watch them grow together, work out issues between themselves, and really develop deep connections with each other.

One other kind of cool thing... When I had dinner with my friend the other day, she asked me to take a look at a memoir she's been helping a guy write for the past five years. She's asked me to read/edit some work before, but until now I haven't felt that Mal was mature enough for me to be able to try. I'm going to give it a go now, though. They should be finished in the next few months, and I'll see what I can do. 

It's almost light enough to go walk this morning, so I'm signing off for now!

The Wonders of Modern Medicine (and TMI, maybe?)

A few years ago, I'd read more than one study showing that there was a correlation between people who were on an antiviral like Acyclovir to treat herpes and a lower incidence of Alzheimer's development. There wasn't and still isn't a clear answer as to whether this is at all causal, but it was of interest to me for two reasons: 1) I have a family history of Alzheimer's, and 2) at the time, almost every month, toward the end of my cycle, I would get a cold sore.

If you've never had a cold sore (or fever blister or whatever colloquialism you use for it) before, then... well, I guess good for you, you smarmy devil. But they initially tingle, then hurt like the dickens for 3 days, then seep for a couple of days, then dry up and scab over, then take a good week to heal. So we're looking at 2-3 weeks of dealing with this. Every month or couple of months. I HATED IT.

Sometimes I didn't get one. Sometimes, I'd get more than one (like the time I spent a whole day on a boat on Lake Mead and got super sunburned then ended up with at least 5 cold sores all around my mouth). Once or twice, it tried to come up INSIDE OF MY NOSTRIL.

As soon as I'd feel it coming, I'd apply Abreva topically and swallow a ton of Lysine. Sometimes, I'd stop it in its tracks. Many times, it didn't matter what I did. It was going to break out.

My doctor had no problem putting me on acyclovir. Ever since then, it's been perfect. I hadn't had a cold sore in years. I'd had a couple of instances where I'd felt the tingling, but then between the preventative, medicine, and supplement, we'd stop it!

Until last month.

Ugh.

As I've mentioned, my body is vaguely trying to stop having menstrual cycles. I went about 120 days last year, then had regular periods for three months. This past month, I didn't have a period. But when it got to what would have been my last day if I had, I started feeling that tingle. I've since gotten topical Lysine, which is a lot cheaper than Abreva and as effective, if not more. Except this time, all efforts were impotent. I got a stinking cold sore and it reminded me of how much I appreciate how effective the anti-viral has been for the past few years.

A further complication here is that I've stopped wearing make-up in the past year. I didn't have any concealer, so it was just out there, doing its disgusting thing (I do wear tinted lip balm and sometimes eye-liner). 

This was about a week into it, when it had started crusting over.
I did break out the left-over powder to try to even out the screaming red color.

Here's the thing I hate the most about it: It's all I can think about when I have one. First, it just hurts so badly. Then I know how messed up it looks, and sometimes I realize that part of the dry skin or scab has started peeling off, and then I wonder how long it's been that way. It's just such a dang focus and I despise that it takes up that much mental space for me.

The moral of this story is maybe that I'm super vain, maybe? Or is it that life is demonstratively better when you can afford or have offered to you "good" insurance that allows you to see doctors for non-life-threatening conditions. My quality of life is improved so much just being on maintenance meds for asthma and cold sores. Using my inhaler once every other month instead of 6 times a day is like a miracle. Being super bent out of shape about the first cold sore in 3 years instead of being super pissed that it's happening for the eighth time in a year is the same. I feel like that sort of peace of mind and care should be equally available to everyone, and not just lucky and/or "rich" folks. 

Hormones are stupid (mine, anyway)

There is a lot going on right now.

The surveyor who is helping us repeat our lots for the house we're building found some discrepancy in the property line between us and our next door neighbor. The neighbor believe that the boundary is our fence when he bought his house, but he's wanting to figure out how much land he might be standing to "give away" if he signs off on our agreement that the fence IS the boundary. We have no idea how much it is going to cost or how long it is going to take to fix this.

D went off on me today, which hasn't happened in a while but is also not an irregular occurrence. Many hurtful things were said (which I have no doubt were sincere on their part; I mostly stayed quiet).

We've had a number of sort of surprise expenses lately, just as we were already having to pull money out of savings to meet our mostly-normal expenses. I'm shocked at how it can still be challenging to squirrel any money away when your household income is above the national median income. And we do not have a lavish lifestyle. We are comfortable; we're fortunate. But it is really close every payday, and has been for almost a year.

If you ask me how I feel, though, the truth is that I feel upbeat and pretty positive. That's kind of my default.

Four weeks ago, though? After I put everything on the cabinet into the sink so I could use it to stage the clean dishes from the dishwasher and James said, "I was using that fork and spoon," I burst into hysterical tears. For the second time in two days. And the first time was an equally stupid trigger."

I think I'm in pre-menopause. As we speak, my current cycle is 39 days (which I only know thanks to Apple Health), and I've had a 60-day cycle in the past year. I'm kind of scared, though, because when that 60-day one ended, the next cycle hit with a vengeance of pain, sensitivity, nausea, and chills. 

And the hormones.

There are maybe 3 days per cycle where I'm emotionally out of control. I spent one weekend listening to the Encanto soundtrack and weeping uncontrollably. I get overwhelmed by my responsibilities, and I resent the people around me for not making my life easier. Then I'm back to "normal" again.

I really hate how unpredictable it is. I feel badly for my family, even though I try to warn James, at least, when I can feel the cloud coming on.

I'm hesitant to take "drugs" for it, because most mood-altering meds have to build up in your system... and I'm only off-balance a few days per month, if that. 

So, I get it. You need hormones to metabolize food and have babies and sleep and stuff. But I'm wondering if they're worth it right now.

Not that I'm complaining about being in a sort of serene place right now. Just good grief. The lack of control. Yeesh.

This lady is closing in on 50, baby!

Ennui

In the past year or so, I've had several short bouts with what I think is depression. It comes and goes. (Memo to me: check out Delta-8 gummies.)

Mal has been SUPER into swinging lately. That comes and goes, too... like in his life. It does seem like this time of the year, when it's mostly nice a lot of the day, he wants to spend a lot of time on the swing set. Problem is, he does not know how to swing himself. So there is much asking and begging and cajoling of grown-ups for assistance. Since James works most days, that typically falls to me. One day last week, he was asking me to keep pushing him (even though I already had twice, including the time we were finishing up because I needed to go inside and start on dinner), and I said something that made him cry. It almost made me cry, too, actually. 

I said, "Mal, I love you, and I love to help you do what you want to do. But sometimes I have other things I HAVE to get done. I also have things that I myself want to do, and you know when I get to do them? Never. I don't have any time to do what I want." Now, this was a little exaggeration, and a little mean, though unintentionally. Fact is, I had him because I WANTED a kid, and I wanted to take care of him. Same with the dog. Same with being the designated "homemaker." But in terms of just deciding to do a thing that makes me happy, and then doing that... my life doesn't really allow for much more of that than maybe eating a really good cookie, or watching a television show while I do something else, too.

In thinking about that, I realized that I don't even know what I like to do, or what I'd want to do with free time. Again, I can spend time on my phone throughout the day while I'm sitting with the dog so he'll calm down a bit. I can find pockets of time that randomly show up to do some volunteer work on the computer. But a pottery class? No way. In-person book club? Nope. Even a night out at the movies with a friend? It's just not feasible given how our lives are structured.

Besides, I don't know that, if I had free time, I'd want to do any of those things.

Several people have asked me lately, "What do you like to do in your spare time?" or "What are your hobbies?" And I genuinely don't know. I used to like to write. Now, ehh. I used to like to eat in restaurants. We really haven't done much of that since Mal was born, because he's not a huge "sit in one place for an hour" kind of person. Also, now that I'm out of diet culture, food is not the end-all/be-all it used to be.

All of this might be because it's possible I've entered into perimenopause. 

For the first time since I had Mal, last month, my period was late. Like 2-3 weeks late. I was hoping that I'd just never have another one, but, alas, that is not what happened. When it arrived, it made up for the time it lost, for sure. So maybe also it was heavy on the hormones.

I'm feeling much more balanced this week.

Oh, and we have some cool news coming soon. Maybe even today? Just seemed like it should go in a separate post from this downer. :) So stay tuned!