Happy New Year, folks!
I suppose should say “Belated Happy New Year, folks!”, given the fact that I am eleven days late with my festive felicitations. Ah well. Better late than never as they say.
I haven’t written for a long while. Why? The long answer is complicated and involved. The short answer is that I simply haven’t felt like it.
You may or may not recall that I September last year I wrote about my horror struggles with the perimenopause. Road rage in a supermarket, damned near giving my GP a paper cut through snatching the prescription for estrogen pills out of her hand and hot flashes that turned me into Little Miss Lobster Face on a regular basis, I had put down to all being part and parcel of the untold joys of being a woman. Without a doubt, I may well have lost my mind (it certainly felt like it at times) were it not for the support of my husband and some of the lovely followers of this blog.
After a while, my symptoms began to ease. The estrogen pills kicked in and began doing their job. The hot flashes still came but with less frequency, and my fellow supermarket shoppers could go about their daily business safe in the knowledge that they would not be verbally accosted by some psycho bitch from hell, just because they were standing in the middle of the aisle. Normality (well, relative normality at least) was restored.
Then in November, I began to have pain in my lower abdomen and back. It began subtly at first, but gradually increased until my entire pelvic area was constantly aching. My periods had stopped since taking the estrogen pills, but now they had come back and were constant. After three weeks of constant periods and pelvic pain, I went to see my GP, who referred me to a gynecologist. After an ultrasound, he in turn told me that I had several myomas or fibroids. I was told to stop taking the estrogen pills, as the hormone has been linked to the formation and growth of myomas. It was hoped that this would, if not shrink them, at least reduce the symptoms.
Two months on, it has done neither. An ultrasound yesterday showed that they have not reduced in size, and as for the pain, well, it often feels as if I am having contractions, or that something is carving through me. I still have my period (it’s been twelve weeks now) and to make me feel even better about myself, my menopausal symptoms have returned and my mood once again often feels as if I am walking on an undulating floor. I am now at the point where I have been prescribed a drug to try and stop my period, in the hope that this in turn will ease the pain. If within two weeks there has been no change, then my gynecologist and I have all but agreed on a hysterectomy.
So with all this going on, I haven’t felt much like blogging or writing. To be honest, I haven’t felt much like doing anything. At this juncture I feel I must give a massive shout out to my husband, who has been a tower of strength to me. Aside from completely understanding my mood swings, when the pain has been bad, he has taken on the role of chief cook and bottle washer. He’s made the meals, washed the dishes, taken out the garbage, even done the laundry. Form an orderly queue, ladies!
Yesterday though, I had something of an epiphany. It came in the form of my internal voice, which basically gave me a damned good talking to and told me that ‘You’re a woman, goddammit! You can either mope around feeling sorry for yourself, or you can get your arse in gear do something productive. Get back on the horse. You’ve got this!” The fact that I got some great feedback from a couple of folks on Twitter regarding my creepy horror stories helped to boost my mood too.
So there you have it. A new year, but a not so new me. Not that I’m going to dwell on it any more. I mean, where will that get me? I’ll still have the pain, but I’ll be miserable to boot. It’s coffee, chamomile tea and the written word for me from hereon in. Pain and menopause can kindly go and f**k themselves.
Maybe it is a new me after all.