Lately, I have had memory problems. I mean, they have always been there…for 20 years, anyway, as the medication I started on 20 years ago is known to cause them…but that’s ok. Better memory issues that can be handled with a notebook and pen, than a constant desire to jump in front of a moving truck, right? One deals with what one must. Everyone has some sort of problem. Mine happens to be memory.
Anyway, the issues of late aren’t the normal sort, where one forgets an appointment or something. No, these days it’s words. I am an eloquent person, normally, with a strong command of the English language and not afraid to use it. It has been frustrating to lose words, simple ones at that. They just…evaporate. I will ask #4 to do something, and the wrong thing comes out. “Will you please go empty the microwa…no…the washing machi…no…dadgummit…that thing with the clean dishes in it!” In order to (sort of) mask this deficiency, missing nouns (they are almost always nouns that are misplaced) are replaced with “thing”. As in “Will you please go empty the dish thing?” Usually context will inform…what’sa the word…you know…the context within the sentence will allow the person to surmise whatever “thing” is replacing. You get it. Right?
So, I had an appointment with The Good Dr. H a week ago, and complained about this. He said “Hm. The medication you’re on now doesn’t have that sort of side effect. However, you’re approaching 50. I would say it’s probably menopausal.”
I guess that would explain why I am tired all the time as well.
50, eh. I am not 50. I am 27 thankyouverymuch. Except that I’m not. No. I have a child who is 26. Another one who is married with a child of his own on the way. 27 is pretty young to be a grandmother, even in the Deep South.
So maybe I am 50. Maybe this is menopause. Which is ok, I guess.
The other day I was in the shower, pondering the constant fatigue, and felt a brief moment of panic. The last time I felt like this, the weeks of grinding fatigue, was when I was pregnant. Could I be pregnant? At 50? I don’t particularly want to have a child that is younger than my grandchild because that would be weird. I suppose we would manage, the guest room could be made into a nursery and it wouldn’t be that hard to baby proof the house only Himself would have to do something about the shop and all those power tools. I wonder how the dogs would handle a baby in the house. What would the neighbors say? or the church?
This line of thinking carried on for a couple of hours. Then I remembered the 2 procedures that have been done, both make pregnancy nigh upon impossible, barring a really huge miracle. Which is not out of the question, as it’s happened before….Remember Abraham’s wife, Sarah? She was 99 when she got pregnant with Isaac. She laughed at God when she was told a baby was coming. So it’s not out of the question at all. However, all this could be menopause. Which is strange to consider even though for many years (15, actually…once #4 was born and I knew we were done with having babies) I was looking forward to it and the cessation of the womanly monthlies. I remember that episode of Little House On The Prairie when Ma Ingalls missed a period and thought she was pregnant, and how disappointed she was when Doc Whatever told her that she wasn’t. I’ve done that, missed a period, and I wasn’t disappointed at all, once I got over the panic of thinking I might be in A Family Way.
Now, with this small constellation of symptoms indication Real The Change Of Life, it’s kind of like stepping into a different costume, or getting a new job. This Change of Life is more than just an occasional hot flash and forgetting the name of an appliance. It’s indicative of a new role as well.I am leaving the realm of Motherhood and Parenting Magazines and staring into a barn filled with all new things. I don’t even know yet what they are, just that it’s different and kind of exciting.
The best part of this is having a hand to hold through it all. Himself is changing roles as well, and we get to go into this together. I am grateful for that.