Hormones, Hot Flashes and Hamstrung Men

And this saga continues. Are you are tired of breast cancer stories as I am?  Well, here is another one. But in this one I get to glow -- literally.

When I was at Parkview I was going through hot flashes. The change is not a change -- it is an encounter with purgatory -- four or five times a day. 

Loretta Edwards and Lori Stromie would break into choruses of Carmen Miranda’s 1950s' song “Tropical Heat Wave” as I would hastily go through the office door in to the snow storm outside --in my shirtsleeves.

Must Go Shirtless

I worked with the most marvelous assistant principal at Parkview. His name is Ed Hunt. Kids would tell me that he was the only AP they knew that made you feel good about being punished. He is an amazingly positive man with a great manner with kids and one of my most favorite people in the world.

Ed liked to use my office for conferences because I had comfortable chairs and a couch. I was also in the center of the campus and his office was in one of the furthest buildings. I frequently sat in on the discipline conferences.

When Ed needed to use my office for a student disciplinary issue he would knock and almost simultaneously unlock my door. I had an industrial strength fan. It blew on low, medium and cyclone. I had taken off my sweater and was standing in front of the fan, contemplating filling the cups of my bra with ice, when I heard a knock and the key in the lock.

I threw myself against the door, yelling “Just a minute, Ed!” I barely got my shirt on when I pulled open the door.  here stood Ed with two or three "rounders" that were in trouble. I sat in on the conference, hoping I had my clothes on right side out. 

Menopause Times Two

I am off all hormones and taking Evista, which is a prescription hormone blocker. Ductal carcinoma is an estrogen-fed cancer. In order to starve the cancer, you must cut off its food supply. That is what the doctors tell you.  Know what that really means? Think about it. I am going through menopause for the second time. NOW, think about it.

I am trying to keep the air conditioning at a reasonable temperature. I think 45 degrees is reasonable, don’t you? Snell comes in from outside and immediately starts putting on flannel shirts, heavy socks and the other day he put on his heaviest flannel lined jeans.

I frequently have to change my night clothes. I wring them out and hang them to dry. Snell encourages the cats to sleep with him because they give off body heat. James stays upstairs almost all the time. He has his winter comforter still on his bed. But no one says a word. They know what I have hanging on the barn wall.

An Unwelcome Glow

Have you ever heard of a woman in love having a certain glow? That’s crap. I’ll tell you what glow is. When you have immediate internal combustion, you glow, you make like a beacon, planes start to reconfigure their landing, sure they are off course.

No, that isn’t right, you don’t glow. You turn beat red, sweat like a pig in heat and snarl at anyone who gets within your 5 feet of your equator. The meanest of men, the most ferocious of animals will cower in fear that at any minute your head will blow off.

You are dripping wet with hot, steamy sweat, you have a headache and for what? For having ovaries. It isn’t right, people. It isn’t fair. No man in his right mind will EVER say they share in the pain, they empathize with you. They just stay as far away from you as possible and nod yes to anything you growl.

I have a pair of cattle emasculators from my grandparent’s farm in our barn. If you have a man who pooh-poohs your industrial inner furnace, call me. I will loan them out to you.

So, this is dedicated to Ed Hunt, Snell and James and to all those men who are wise enough to keep the freezer stocked with ice cream, their winter jacket nearby and their mouths shut.