A young friend, 50, talked to me about “menopause not being a big sweat."
And I… somersaulted into memory. Menopause for me wasn’t a pause. It was a halt. I was a 48-year-old city woman, reasonably mature, only slightly neurotic and, for a period of time, I was hormonally out of my mind. The experts say 75% of women breeze through their menopausal years with no visible signs of discomfort or distress. I now confess I wasn’t one of them!
It’s winter. I’m waiting in a bank line, down coat unzipped, perspiration moistening my forehead, neck, waist. I’m two people away from the teller, but I race out the door as if a tow truck is scooping up my car. I stand still, flapping the outer sides of my coat trying to cool off in seven-degree air!
My cheeks redden, not from blush but from raging hormones. Once a month for four or five days my skin breaks out. At first I found this amusing. I figured I didn’t have acne as an adolescent so this must be payback. At the drugstore I had a consultation with the teenager standing next to me as we examined skin creams.
Over time I’d acquired a collection of fans a burlesque dancer would covet. Cloth, paper, plastic, silk and a palm-sized one that ran on batteries. I had fans everywhere I placed reading glasses; in pockets, on tables, in drawers.
Friends were sympathetic and passed on remedies. But I continued to perspire and flash. I read books, tried herbs, tried exercise, tried meditation/relaxation. I eliminated foods, added others. Night sweats broke my sleep and spirit. This was way past annoying. Think exhausting, unnerving, debilitating.
The doctors, oh the doctors! Three months to get an appointment with the $500 specialist. Nice office, attractive furniture, fabric robe, but nothing I didn’t know. One 40-something endocrinologist told me to “practice positive thinking.” Was he kidding? Had he ever even talked to his mother?
In the end it wasn’t a visualization or acupuncture. It was a small dot of a pill used to lower blood pressure, added to a regimen of hormone replacement therapy. This combo miracle back then, more than 25 years ago, turned the knob of my life to normal. Within four days! Hallelujah for the doc who listened and tried to find the right drug combo.
I know my case was unusual. I had friends who scooted through without a drop of moisture touching their skin. I learned by trial and error to find the information and have the consultations. A persistent approach kept me moving through the despair. The most important lesson I learned going through menopause was to listen to my body when it cried and find ways to soothe it.
— Jane Seskin
Jane Seskin is a social worker and author of 13 books, with poems and essays published in national magazines and journals (Cosmopolitan, Woman’s Day, Persimmon Tree, Next Avenue and The New York Times). For 20 years she provided individual and group treatment to survivors of violent crimes. She’s been a contributor to the Chicken Soup for the Soul anthology series. Her latest book is the poetry collection, Older Wiser Shorter: The Truth and Humor of Life After 65. She’s been a writer-in-residence at the Vermont Studio Center and was nominated for a Pushcart Prize.