63: Menopause and all that jazz
I was Covid-wardrobe-compliant as I turned the corner into fifty. Fifty years seemed like a lot of responsibility with all the things that come with it, including menopause for those who might catch it early. But I was clinically COVID-ready. I was working hard at indemnifying myself from whatever was coming. I was ready. Basically, I was armed and dangerous as menopause approached.
I had read a lot about the symptoms of menopause. Scary stuff like hot flushes, dryness, anxiety, joint aches, sweats and other related issues. I bought several books on how to manage menopause. I stood guard over my body for any of the symptoms. I prayed and gritted my teeth. By Jove, I was ready. Aside from copiously reading about it and asking many doctors the relevant questions, I had friends and colleagues who had gone through it and were still struggling with it. Ordinarily pleasant women, who suddenly became cranky; lovely women who would break into sweats in a fully air-conditioned room; women whose bones did not wake up with them; and women with sudden irritabilities. I have also met women who hit menopause earlier and young women who hit menopause in their twenties or their 30s. Frightening but true! So my heart was literally in my mouth already. What will I do? How would I hold up? My many doctor friends were on call duty on ‘The Eugenia Menopause Project’. It was pretty insane.
Late-night calls. Should I break into a random sweat, I make a phone call to Dr Linda or Dr Achem. My gynaecology doctors were on permanent speed dial. Menopause is meant to start between 45 and 55 years. The only symptom I had was the disappearance of my period.
Then 50 came, and there was silence. No Sweats! No anxieties! I took off my Covid-style suit. What’s going on? Through the decade till 60, the silence was deafening. But I kept second-guessing myself. Where is my menopause? It sounded weird. My friends were suffering, and my family members were struggling. What happened? I began to wonder if I had a disease because menopause, like the period, is a rite of passage. Nothing! Like, seriously?
Then the years passed slowly. Your guess is as good as mine. Last Sunday, I turned 63 years old. And now I know that somehow, God excused me from menopause, and I should be thankful.
As I turn a year older, I am thankful for so many things, big and small. And in between all of that, I pray for my peers who have had to deal with the challenges of menopause that things will be easier and less stressful. I see you. I pray for you.
May science bring relief for these women who have to deal with extreme symptoms. Amen.
And for those with a mild rite of menopause passage, I love you. Let’s go ahead and live our lives in spite of all the ageing challenges.
Trust me, we are more gorgeous at over 60. Peace and Love!
My Covid armour is permanently at rest, and I am living my gorgeous life. Don’t let anything stop you from living your gorgeous life. Learn a new language. Take dancing classes. Babysit for a young person for four hours every Saturday for one month in exchange for a massage and lunch at a new restaurant. Do it for the culture. Don’t charge. Mentor two people over three months. Watch them grow. Go to cooking school. Travel. It can be just Gombe or Ghana. Love life. Wake up to the sunrise. Watch the sunset.
It’s that time, menopause or not, when you go, girl. It’s your life. Live it to the fullest. Go on. Write a book. The kids have flown the nest. You have done stuff for years for other people. It’s time for you. Enjoy it.
