Hormone Madness

As I sat and read the article in Time Magazine about Hormone Therapy, it started to make me think about getting off my hormone treatment I had been on for the past fifteen years. I felt confused (some say it’s good, and some say it’s bad). I had tried one time before but gave up after a few weeks.

This time I said to myself, “I CAN make it.” I weaned myself off my estrogen and took about a month to do it. Within a short time, I started experiencing the almighty hot flashes, especially at night when I laid awake with insomnia. The horrible memories of the past time started to invade my mind. “I CAN do this,” I said once again. I worked extra hard during the day so I would be good and tired at night and put a cool rag and baby power next to my bed. My husband tried to support me in this mission, but there seemed to be a small problem at night. He has sleep apnea and requires a CPAC machine. The mask has two holes on the side. Picture this: We are both asleep, the hot flash attacks me, I am in a cold sweat, and I grab for the baby power and start putting it all over me. Suddenly, I hear my poor husband coughing and struggling for air. It wasn’t a pretty picture, and I realized that the safe way to get through this time was to sleep in separate beds. That worked for a short time until I began sleeping only three hours a night. I had the cleanest house in the neighborhood, but I was exhausted. Once again I said, “I CAN”… this is not going to beat me.”

A few days later our friends invited us out to a buffet at the casino one evening. I hadn’t seen them since I started this mission to clean my system up. I had worked extra hard on my face that night…. makeup just right. The first thing my friend wanted to know was why I had dark circles under my eyes and my skin seemed so dry. I had noticed that my face needed extra moisturizer lately and the crevices seemed to resemble a cracked shell on a hard-boiled egg. (“Oh my, others are noticing my changes also”). As we stood in the long line waiting to be served, I started to tell my estrogen-taking friend about my venture. I noticed my voice being louder than usual, and I seem to be irritated with everyone around me. Suddenly, the single lady in front of us turned around and said, “You poor thing. You need to get back on your estrogen.” How dare she tell me what I needed! Immediately, I started to yell at her. You must understand I am usually nice to everyone whether or not I like him or her. I couldn’t believe my behavior.

Six weeks had passed and I was still saying, “I CAN do this.” Now everyone around me had a clean house, my circles were darker under my eyes and my face drank moisturizer three times a day. I wasn’t too nice to be around, but my family was trying to support me. I just needed a little more time.

A few days later my grandchildren had their spring concert at school, just the ticket I needed to lift my spirits. Mason my two-year-old grandson accompanied me to the school to watch the other four perform. Weeks before I had learned how to prepare for the hot flashes that seemed to invade me. I’d tuck handy wipes in my purse and a sweater that I could remove. We were sitting in the second row enjoying the performance of my darling wonderful grandchildren Sophia, 11, Sebastian, 12, Giovanna, eight, and Isabella, six, when the invasion hit. I quietly took Mason’s hand and led him to the back of the room. We stood by the wall, and I took off my sweater and started to fan myself with the program. I looked at Giovanna who was standing on the stage and was the one granddaughter who had always understood me. She had great compassion for her grandmother. She immediately took her little hands and held them to her heart and was silently saying, “Oh poor grandma!” I couldn’t believe it; she even knew what was going on with me. Within seconds, a lady standing next to me tapped me on the shoulder and pointed down to my grandson, Mason. He was standing in front of me with his shorts pulled down to his feet and his t-shirt pulled up around his neck! How could this be? Even the two-year-old felt sorry for me. THAT’S IT, I COULDN’T STAND IT ANY MORE…. that was the last straw.

I take my hat off to those who have beaten the habit of taking estrogen. I lasted eight weeks but I can honestly say this girl will probably be on it until the day I die. I have a feeling that another article will come along and make me have the desire to try again some day. For now, I seem to be the nice person I try to be, I am getting the sleep I need, and my husband and I are sleeping together in the same bed again. Thank God!

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