My Menopausal Musings

For the past few years I have been reading articles and interviewing woman about menopause symptoms and remedies. We've talk about trying everything from tincture of sage to hormone replacement therapy. Today the NY Times published " Menopause, as Brought to You by Big Pharma ," by Natasha Singer and Duff Wilson. It's certainly an eye-opener. Lawsuits and internal documents show how Pfizer and its predecessors promoted the idea of taking hormone drugs. If you or someone you love is careening into menopause, have them talk to family, friends and doctors. Be informed. For me, the cure for my hot flashes was sex. I highly recommend it ;-)

Between the next rounds of dating was a little more down time than usual. It wasn’t just me; everyone was spending less time on personal matters and turning all attention to politics and the war. It seemed as though my hot flashes were running as hot as the political debates. The hot flashes were never ending. I was not sleeping as well as usual. I wake myself up in the middle of the night because I am wildly ripping the clothes off my body. I am alone. I am just hotter than hell. It’s unbelievable. I am finally comfortable and drift back off to sleep only to awaken because I am so cold that I must get up to retrieve the duvet from the floor. Months of practice have enabled me to strip and merely throw the duvet to the side for easy recovery. My sleep is interrupted a bit less. Friends are considering hormone replacement therapy to subside their hot flashes. Others are talking about herbal teas and tincture of sage. I am not ready to go there yet. While I am occasionally...

It is date day. He calls me and I explain that I find myself in his home town. He offers to drive me home and to take me out in the city. Without hesitation I agree. So much for the mad planning of menopausal women. Frantically, I shower and dress while having a hot flash. It is August, and while my friend is also having hot flashes, her husband is very thin, never hot and has no understanding of why I am sweating, swelling, yelling, crying and gasping for breath. I have fifteen minutes to be ready. The solution? Teething rings left in the freezer from years gone by placed between and under each breast. I am just beginning to breathe normally and the doorbell rings. My friend and I are paralyzed. Her husband befuddled. Insisting that my friend stay in the kitchen – I know her nose was pressed up against the window as I left – I go to answer the door for my mystery date. He is exactly what he represented. He is young, cute and smart. Stepping out with my most vivacious self, I hopped in...