Eggshells under their feet…

Yesterday morning I awoke in the midst of another horrific hot flash.  Stumbling and growling all the way down the stairs – David and Rissa’s eyes got really big as I stomped my way into the kitchen.  Fanning my face with my hands and flapping my arms to get air into my armpits.

“I’m not even going to ask,” I say.

“If it’s hot in here?” David replies.

“Yes, I’m not asking, because…”

“It’s not hot,” Rissa cheerfully pipes up.  “It’s just you.”

“Awesome!  That is freaking awesome!!!”  I open the freezer and grab a velcro ice pack and strap it around my neck.

“That’s an interesting look,” says David, ignoring the laser beams coming out of my eyes.  He then whispers, “Are you going for an auto-erotic asphyxiation type look?”  I growl at him.

“I am only  44 years old,” I gripe, as I’m making my coffee.  “44 years old!!!”  My Mom had hot flashes until she was 60!!!  You could have to live with THIS (I point violently to myself, drawing a wide erratic circle around my head) for another SIXTEEN years!!!”  I grab the soy milk and my hazelnut flavouring.  The mug is warm.  “THIS MUG IS TOO WARM TO HOLD!!!“

Rissa then giggles, which lets me know that David must have done something behind my back.  “WHAT???  What did he do?  Did he just make a ‘she’s crazy‘ gesture?!?”

“Nope, not at all.  Un-unh.  Nope.”  Both of them looking all sweet and innocent.  David has the decency to look chagrined before admitting “I just raised my eyebrows like this.”  He demonstrates.  It’s the ‘Oh boy, fasten your seatbelts’ look.  I do my best not to bludgeon him.

“How about I make you an iced capp?  Would that help?”  He moves swiftly out of my arm’s reach.

“Maybe,” I pout.  Then I realize what he’s offering.  “Yes please.  (sigh)  You don’t understand David.  I can’t do this to you guys for another 16 years.  You’ll lose your minds.  You can’t be walking on eggshells all that time.  That’s not fair to you!  I am considering hormone replacement.  This is making me consider HRT!!!  It’s not supposed cause as much cancer now, but I can’t be on hormone replacement for SIXTEEN years!  That’s just asking for bad shit to happen to my body!!!  I have enough bad shit happening to my body already!!”

It was at that point that Rissa led me to the kitchen table, sat me down and patted me on my arm in a gesture of placation.  Then David put the homemade iced capp into my hand.  It was cool and delicious and took my mind off the volcano in my torso.

What if I do really stupid crap before I actually make it to Menopause?  This is only PERI-Meonopause – and already I’m pretty much out of my mind.  Can I make it through another 16 years?  Will I be able to use it as an excuse in court?  Like, for when I murder someone when they look at me funny?  There are good things though.  Menopause is custom made for one-woman shows.  I’m going to have SO MUCH material!    The commiseration factor with my audience is going to be legendary!