Marching On Into Middle Age

A few weeks ago, I went to the doctor for my annual. I absolutely despise going to the doctor for a couple of reasons.

First, my gynecologist looks to be about ten years old and while she is obscenely smart, it is evident that she is still quite newly off the medical establishment nipple. She can barely contain her sigh when I ask if we can explore more holistic options before reverting to the pharmacy. I tolerate her superiority complex because she is attentive and thorough and I just know that one day, once she has some years on her, she will soften in her scorn of anything alternative. Besides, she is quick with her prescription pad and this is sometimes very useful.

The other reason is that having a pap smear today is no less uncomfortable than it was twenty years ago and frankly, that chaps my ass. I cannot understand how it is that we have unlocked the genetic code but I still have to sling my feet up into a set of stirrups. How can technology exist whereby one can witness the growth of a baby in utero, in 3D no less, and I'm expected to get excited about KY Jelly that has been warmed for my comfort? You see? I'm not feeling the love from the scientific community. There must not be any money in speculums.

Anyway, this year I was pretty serious about the exam. I'd been experiencing a few medical issues which concerned me and I was slightly terrified as to what they might find. My brain ran through every possible scenario, except the obvious, apparently.

Doc: Everything looks great.
Me: Oh that's a relief. So why is this happening?
Doc: For the same reason that you wear bifocals.
Me: Huh?
Doc: Because you're getting older. Period. The average age for the onset of menopause is 51 but women can be peri-menopausal for up to five years before that.

(Which means there are times when you're batshit crazy but without the estrogen replacement therapy)

Me: But I'm 41, not 46.
Doc: Yes, that is true but you smoked for twenty five years and women who smoke tend to slip into menopause about five years ahead of their non smoking counterparts. So, you are right on time with your symptoms.

Excellent. The first stirrings of menopause.

The bad news is that, at nearly forty two years of age, my doctor is going to put me back on the birth control pill (whose package instructions I CAN NO LONGER SEE TO READ) to help regulate my rogue menstrual cycle.

The good news is that apparently, there are THOUSANDS of women in their forties who are experiencing the same things as I am and getting some relief from the pill. The strange thing is that I don't feel middle aged most days. Sure, I don't see well close up anymore but that works for me because in addition to the fine print being unreadable, my cellulite and wrinkles have also softened to a blur.

I came away from my annual exam thrilled to be healthy but uncomfortable with the thought that one day, sooner rather than later, I would no longer be able to bear children. It's not that I want any more babies (HELL NO) but I'm sad that the ability to do so is coming to an end.

Menopause firmly draws the line in the sand between a woman's youth and the beginning of her mature years.

I wonder if there is a support group.

And if they serve alcohol and chocolate at the meetings.