Tuesday, December 31, 2013

Hot Mess

"Do you want to do something New Years Eve?"  SM asked me yesterday.

"Like what?"  I perked up, hoping for a fun suggestion.

"Dunno.  You tell me."  SM responded, no doubt hoping for some creative plan from me.

We stand there eyeballing each other for a minute or two.

"Well, I got nothing and even if I did, how am I gonna make it past my 7pm bedtime?"  

That's what I do now.  Pass out the first chance I get.  Sometimes I'm barely home from work, out of my scrubs with dinner in my belly before I'm passed out, drooling in my recliner.   

 

I've been in a fierce cycle of hot flashes these past few weeks.  More intense than usual.  The good news is that it's at it's worst between midnight and 3 am.  So I can usually get in a bit of a doze before I'm wide awake, usually right about the time SM is going to bed.

"I suppose we could crack a bottle of bubbly when I get up at midnight?"  I teased.

SM just shook his head and wandered off, clearly unimpressed with my party plans.

Off kilter bedtimes aside, I really have been getting a lot done in the wee hours lately.  

I try not to get up.  I really do.  I toss and turn for a bit, hoping that I'll drift back to sleep.  Sometimes I can.  

But then there are the nights like this one where the noise inside my head is just too much.  And so I lie there blinking in the darkness thinking about random crap.  

And then the next hotflash comes on 20 minutes after the last one hit until finally I kick off the covers in a sweaty snit and head out to "The Nook" to spend a few hours clicking around on the computer as I shuck my hoodie on and off with each new flash.

Sometimes I surf.  
Sometimes I post nonsense like this.
Sometimes I turn the TV on and drift back to sleep.

About 2am I wandered in and turned on the tube.  They had War of the Roses on.  One of my favorite dark comedies.  





Now that is a pissed off menopausal woman.

I watched for about an hour and then started having shivering spells.  Cold flashes.  Yeah me!

Heading for bed around 3:30 and under nice warm covers I eventually drifted off again.  

I woke up at 5 feeling refreshed.  

Except now I can feel I have a migraine coming on.

I am, my friends, one Hot Mess.




5 comments:

  1. These flashes come in waves. I've had some this week when I hadn't been bothered with them for weeks. What gives? I usually just lie there in the night. I really need to get myself a little book light, so at least I don't have to get out of the covers. Hang in there, it's bound to get better!

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  2. Oh, my poor dear, you really are suffering from menopausal mania big time! I had dysmenorrhea/endomitrios from the time I started menstruating until I finally had a complete "clean out" at 45. By then my body was so elated to have no more menses that I had very little trouble with hot flashes. I've often asked myself, why are females subjected to the very real, very physical (and sometimes emotional) torture related to their reproductive systems? Seems it should be a natural function and not make such hot messes of us!

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  3. Ooops, misspelled dysmemorrhea AND endomitriosis. See? The whole situation has had lasting repercussions! (Hmmm, did I spell THAT right?)

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  4. It ain't fair, I tell you! I felt like a fire engine, running full bore to the site of a raging inferno for a good six months. Then, blissfully, it was all doused and the hot mess became a warm poot. Unfortunately, I did keep the sleep (or lack thereof) thing. I lie in bed with the endless loop (oops, redundant!) until I can't stand it. Then I get up and knit. Or wash dishes. Here's hoping you're heading toward the hotflash exit door.

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  5. I'm commenting because I couldn't find your email and would like to speak to you about Granny. Some of the folks that read her blog are getting together to do something for her. If you want to join email me at daphne@alum.mit.edu, I could put you on the email list to discuss it. I'll send out a mass email about it on Monday to the emails that I have. Hopefully she doesn't read comments on old posts.

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