It’s been sixteen months since my hysterectomy. Sixteen months since being thrown head-first into menopause. Sixteen months of dealing with the issues leftover from the bungled surgery. Sixteen months of struggling to figure out what all of this means. Then it happened last night. I had my very first hot flash. Seriously, I should be counting my blessings that I have never had one up until this point. The hormone has seemed to really help keep that wicked beast at bay, but last night I think I actually had one. One of the girls at work said I’d know it if it were a hot flash, but for lack of a better word, I’ll call it a hot flash.
It was about 4:30am and the kitty came and snuggled up onto my chest and began his loud (sometimes obnoxious) purring. And it got HOT. I had to kick the covers off me. My first thought was, “Holy hell, that kitty puts out a lot of heat.” But then reality set in as the flash subsided and the kitty was still laying there. Was I really naive enough to think I’d never have to deal with a hot flash? Why, yes. Yes, I was. That’s for OLD people! Not me!
In other, yet related news, I’ve scheduled an appointment with a specialist for Halloween. I didn’t try to schedule it for then, but that is when they could fit me in. We will discuss getting the bladder fixed permanently so that maybe I can get on with my life. Life the way it used to be. Well, with an added hot flash here and there.