I had a womb-ectomy two and a half years ago that left me with one wonky Lone Ovary that seems to be confused as to what its purpose is in my life. Sometimes, it thinks it should work on a monthly release schedule. Sometimes it decides it’s had enough of being predictable and shoots off eggs at random times. And sometimes, it decides that it doesn’t want to work at all and gives me a taste of what’s to come. During those times, I’ve experienced mini hot flashes that made life miserable. But they weren’t horrible. They were annoying but not life ending. Or so I thought.
A month ago, my body caught fire and I sweat ninety percent of my water weight out over the course of half an hour. The sweat was literally pouring out of me. I have a row of chigger bite scars along the anklebone on my left leg. I have never experienced such an intense itching like that, waves of itch flushing my body filling the tiny spaces in my brain with nothing more than the thought to scratch. I thought that it was the most miserable I could be until I got to experience the wonder of that hot flash. Now I’d read that Belinda Carlisle had been experiencing hot flashes and ending up sewing a magnet into her underwear. When I read that, the information went in to that little part of the brain where I store useless small talk. Bored at a party? I dip into that box of random facts and bring out whatever I find. “Did you hear that Belinda Carlisle had been experiencing hot flashes and ending up sewing a magnet into her underwear?” I might say. Small talk in party situations becomes life saving medical facts when your body had decided that it’s going to do nothing but squirt sweat. Suddenly, in the midst of this agonizing fire that had taken over my body, I was desperate to find a magnet. And while I franticly searched for a magnet, I spent my time sweating and trying to figure out where she put them in her underwear and wonder why they had to be in her underwear and, only slightly less important than magnet placement, what was going to happen to me when I ran out of sweat. In thirty short minutes, I looked like I’d run a marathon in 100degree heat. Not one part of my clothing was dry. My hair, which is normally thick and a frizzy-dry mess, was soaked, as if I’d been in a shower for hours. As if I was standing IN the middle of a lake, only not as cool. I’m pretty sure my shoes were squishing as I walked. People were pointing and commenting. Okay, they weren’t really. I was pointing and commenting at myself. My shopping partner was amused at my dilemma but I noticed she didn’t stand too near me. Why should she have, my deodorant – my trusty men’s Old Spice Wolfthorn – gave up and just pretended it was there for show. It didn’t even bother to deodorize let alone prevent perspiration. Total fail. When I got home, I found the bracelet that was supposed to help with the arthritis I have in my wrist and shoved it in my underwear. It was very uncomfortable. Very! Belinda must have smaller magnets. Or bigger underwear. I pulled the bracelet out of my underwear and shoved it into my bra in the valley of sweat and hoped like heck that was going to cure me. Side story: I heard a women tell a story once about the fact that her roommate actually wondered why there was a pocket in the bottom of her underwear. "What would a person put in that pocket?" she asked. Think about that for a moment and then laugh. Why anyone would consider that tiny bit of overlapping fabric a pocket? And seriously, what would someone put in that pocket? In case you’re wondering, that "pocket" is NOT where you should put a magnet. A month later and I’ve been mostly hot flash free. For now. All of my flashes have been mini and laughable compared to the one that almost killed me. I stopped wearing bracelet in my bra shortly after I noticed I’d developed a matching set of bracelet-sized bruises on my boobs. Those are hard to explain to the doctor, FYI. I’m not sure if Lone Ovary has gone back to work or is gearing up for yet another fire sale on dignity but the next time I’ll be prepared. The magnet bracelet is in my purse along with extra strength period pads. If I get hit by a flash like that again, I plan to apply them all over my body to absorb any and all moisture. I figure if folks are going to be pointing and laughing, I might as well give them something to point and laugh at. A dozen period pads attached to my forehead and under my armpits might actually do that while helping me stay dry. OH! There actually might be a market for stylish period pad headbands for the older and ovary free set. With magnets sewed into them, of course. I'm going to get right on making a prototype. Anyone game to be my test dummy? Anyone? Anyone?
2 Comments
bc
8/19/2014 03:05:35 am
Let all us men who read of this female mystery bow our heads and refrain from wisecracks. We have our own mysteries. Honor the flash. Honor the furnace.
Reply
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorMy name is ej. I'm a girl. I say that because with the short hair and the short initials, folks aren't always sure. More brilliant insights to who I am in About me Archives
April 2019
Categories
All
|