Menopausian Journey, Part 1

Hot Flash Entry......or shall I say Vasomotor Symptoms?

Tick, tick, tick……Even before the heat kicks in, I know it is coming. Tick, tick, tick….just like the sound oil-filled heaters make as they slowly heat up. In my case, I feel the ticks. Like an early warning system, I suppose, the Hot Flash Early Warning System (HFEWS). Warning, warning – hot flash incoming! Prepare yourself, prepare your environment. One would think that after 16 years, I would pay attention to that early warning system. That I would immediately prepare myself and my environment for success. Often, I ignore the warnings, unfailingly optimistic that the hot flash will change course this time, as if it will decide not to carry on with the spontaneous combustion.

The next physical sign is an overwhelming wave of heat, climbing my body, like slipping into a hot spring. Sweat almost instantly saturates my body, my clothing clinging to my skin as if it will suffocate me. My skin turns red and my body begins to emit heat. My only option is to meet the hot flash head-on - I must, within seconds of the HFEWS, get to one of my relief centers. To not deal with it immediately results in loss of breath, heart palpitations and body weakness that brings me to my knees.

I have several relief centers (aka fans) set up in the house. All of these fans are placed for instant access to cool air within seconds of the HFEWS. In the kitchen, I open the window above the sink where I have a fan permanently stationed and turn the fan on full blast. I do this so often throughout every day that I have a book at this location, giving me something to do while I wait out the hot flash. I have a remote-controlled fan attached to the wall beside my bed - I throw off my blanket, blindly reaching for the remote that my fingers have memorized, spread out like I am making a snow angel out of sweat and wool and wait for deliverance so that I can get back to sleep with a minimum of fuss. There is a fan beside the bathtub and one placed above my propane stove. I carry a folding hand fan with me at all times, tucked in my purse or pocket, always available and ready to ‘stylishly’ help me through these moments.

There have been some interesting situations of tearing off my clothes in public before I learned the art of layering. The idea of dressing to look cute has completely gone out the window. Comfort and the ability to handle the flash is of the utmost importance at all times. In earlier years, my teen daughter learned to stand nearby, catching my clothes, rather than flee in embarrassment. Once, we were all dolled up to attend a fancy holiday tea party at a very nice hotel restaurant in downtown Portland. As we stood in the bathroom, washing up after using the facilities, I felt the HFEWS kick in. I ran, anxious to get outside to the frigid winter air, ripping off my pretty holiday outfit, not stopping until I was down to my leggings and a tank top. I felt weak, too weak to stand, so sunk to sit on the pavement, trying desperately to catch my breath. Passing cars slowed to stare, some rolling down windows to ask my daughter if I was okay, if we needed help. The hotel doorman came over to check on me and to see if I needed some water. After a few moments I was able to pull myself together, gather my belongings and head back into the hotel washroom to get dressed once again.

I know there are other women in the world that have endured this particular hell on our menopausal journey. It has been sixteen years since I had my tubes tied, to prevent another pregnancy due to Congestive Heart Failure with my first and only pregnancy. Sixteen years since an emergency appendectomy on a vacation where I asked the surgeon to go ahead and tie those tubes while he was in there. After a moment’s thought he agreed, only once I confirmed for him the ‘medical necessity’, bypassing permission from the man in my life. Unfortunately for me, I was not informed that a procedure of this sort was likely to send me into early perimenopause. To be fair, I do not think I would have considered that a deal breaker. I was so terrified that I would become pregnant, the possibility that neither I nor the baby would survive, leaving my daughter without her Mama was completely out of the question. Even if he had warned me, or should I say, educated me on the risk factors, I still would have had the procedure done.

Within a few months of that procedure, my menstrual cycle began to change. Bleeding all the time, not bleeding at all. Bleeding at unexpected times. Those were my first signs – I had no idea what was going on in my body for months, over a year. I made doctor appointment after doctor appointment, seeking information. I had, of course, just had my tubes tied but was I pregnant? Biopsies were done to ensure it was not cancer. Did I need to have an ablation, where medical professionals scrape or burn the endometrial lining of my uterus? It was at this point that I said “Hold up!” What in the holy hell is going on around here? Why is it that no medical professional can help me figure out what is happening? I went to the library and checked out about a dozen books on women’s health, in particular, reproductive health. Books I like to call Womanly books.

I spent the summer reading and studying. All the things that we, as women, should know and understand about our bodies from the time we are young. At the end of summer, my take-away was Embrace My Womanness. This realization certainly did not take away symptoms but it helped a great deal to have some sort of an understanding that what my body is doing is natural. Certainly unpleasant but natural.

I was able to manage most of my symptoms for the first ten years with herbal remedies. It has only been the last six years that my symptoms crossed over into the Absolutely Unbearable stage. I say ‘only’ six years like that makes it more understandable. At that point in time, my herbal remedies stopped working. And my symptoms stepped up their game – prompting another study fest of Womanly books.

Knowing that everything that I am going through is common helps me. It is a travesty that we women are not educated properly on the changes we will undergo. Thankfully, I came to know that I was not Losing My Mind or Going Crazy. I am simply a woman, learning to accept what I cannot change by embracing my Womanness……..

The first time I read these words aloud was over the summer of 2024, to a group of older women in a writing group that I have been honored to be a part of. At the end, where I said I am learning to accept what I cannot change, that what I have been experiencing is normal, the other women in my group, all menopausal, stared in disbelief and said, “This is not normal.” I am not sure how I can describe how that made me feel. Perhaps seen and heard in a way I had yet to be seen and heard. It really made me think and opened my mind to the possibility that there was hope for me, for all of us women suffering due to hormonal fluctuations. I once again began to research and finally, finally found out that indeed the tide is turning. Women are speaking up and out, refusing to accept the “This is normal, suck it up, buttercup,” tired trope that we have been spoon-fed our entire life. I am here for that, for saying the quiet parts out loud. Though to be fair, saying the quiet parts out loud is not a new concept to me – now, though, I am joined by many, many other voices. Share it loud and share it proud!