Another night of weak sleep. It’s a combination of things: guilt at snapping at my parents, distress over my daughter’s problems, personal grief, pain and misery.
On the bright side, my hips are fine. As in, they’re still screwed but no worse than last year. Why then, the pain, the swelling, the vomiting? Referrals are pending.
Quite a few on my team – how odd to have a team – think menopause. The culprit is my hormones. I’m not a doctor so I get stuck on the logic problem when I try to make this answer fit. Menopause for me was in 2018. The side-effects just waited until now to jump up and say hello? This argument is popular because eating disorders and menstruation have a complicated connection. There’s only one problem.
I never lost my period. Even at grossly underweight. My genes want to spread, I guess. Like my menopause, my menstruation was basically problem-free. It’s a family thing.
It could be my meds. Maybe the Trintellix is becoming toxic? Perhaps that explains the falling blood numbers. The problem there is only one test. One test isn’t evidence: there’s no statistical validity.
But I was counting on the joint problem being the cause. The “not” resulted in serious distress for most of the day. I’ve had to fight the good fight to prove I was sick and not a hysterical woman before. I was sick and not a hysterical woman.
Maybe this time it’s conversion?
I don’t want to do it again. I’m tired. But my joints are on fire and I sweat through my nightclothes, sheets, and mattress, and my pain is seriously harsh. I’m tired. I want what I had when I was five.
I want someone else to be the grownup for a while.
It probably is menopause. Women get short sticks.
If you could go back in time in your own life, when would you pick?