Tag Archives: sweating

Menopause Discomfort (50 excerpt)

Another major issue I have to contend with at the age of fifty is the menopause. My poor body is so confused. The other day I went outside to admire the natural wildlife meadow that is my back garden, when I sneezed and slightly wet myself. Sometimes I put on a jumper because I’m feeling cold then immediately break out into an intense sweat all over my body – I’m cold enough to need a jumper, then literally one second later so hot I can barely stand to be just in my bare skin!

The menopause is a constant irritation, a battleground of extreme temperatures, a never-ending reminder of my stage of life and bodily misfortune. I never feel comfortable. I’m twitchy all the time with a niggling, perpetual aggravation, whatever I’m doing, wherever I am. If I’m not sweating and wetting myself, my back is aching, my knees and hips are giving way, or I have a hideous, painful migraine. And I’m rapidly putting on weight in the middle of my body.

Recently, I got so fed up with all this, that I made a doctor’s appointment to try hormone replacement therapy, hoping that perhaps it’ll stabilise the migraines and sweating. I’d try most things if there was a chance of living without this continual discomfort.

I thought I’d use natural remedies as well, alongside the medical solution, so I did some research into the most helpful supplements to take. Apparently all of these can all help:

  1. Black cohosh
  2. Vitamin B6
  3. Sage leaf
  4. Oil of Evening Primrose (for omega 6)
  5. Fish oil (for Omega 3 to balance out the omega 6s)

A Spider in the Heat of Summer (50 excerpt)

OH JESUS CHRIST A TARANTULA HAS JUST RUN ALONG THE CARPET IN FRONT OF ME!!

I’ve been typing this diary entry at the computer in the living room and I’ve just dashed to the kitchen to get a mixing bowl whilst having a sweaty panic attack. This is what comes of having to keep all doors and windows open to combat the intense heat. Now I’m trapped and terrified. It’s ten o’clock in the evening. I don’t think I can deal with this enormous monster by myself. I’m not sure what to do.

I’ve just messaged Lindsay to come and save me. I’m desperately trying not to look at the creature whilst at the same time never taking me eyes off it, so I don’t lose it if it runs off. It’s so big. It’s disgusting. It’s making my toes curl. I’ve put an extended umbrella on the floor next to it and laid a chair on its side in order to keep the thing from running under a desk and into a bunch of wires where it would be difficult to get at. On the other side I’ve put three Asterix books on top of each other. I’m trying to box it in. But I won’t be able to get the mixing bowl over it because it’s right up against the side of the bookcase so the angle isn’t right and I could accidentally chop it in half or tear a leg off or something revolting. I’m sweating with fear and trembling all over. I hope Lindsay gets here soon. This is an awful situation. I hate being a single mother and having to deal with spiders.

I’m frozen. I daren’t move, and I’m praying to God that it doesn’t move either, because then I’ll have no choice but to advance on it with the bowl all by myself. But what if it moves when I go and answer the door? How will I keep it in sight if I’m walking away from it?

Oh thank God Lindsay has arrived.

She has just said, “Oh fuck it’s a tarantula. It’s massive. It’s come straight out of the jungle.”

We are both sweating and swearing and wondering what to do. I don’t think she expected something THIS BIG. We’re also desperately trying not to wake the twins, who are asleep in the sauna upstairs.

“I’m naming him Cedric.” Lindsay is staring at it with deep respect.

We discuss optimal methods of approach. We try out different ways to hold and utilise the mixing bowl for when Cedric moves and she needs to quickly ram it down over him.

Now she’s having difficulty getting him into the bowl because the horrible thing won’t move! How loathsome is that? She’s just prodded it, and all it did was shift a leg slightly. Now she’s stabbing at it with the corner of a magazine… and she’s done it!!!! She’s managed it. Oh thank fuck for that. She did yelp and jump backwards, but the deed is finally done. The monster is underneath the mixing bowl.

Jesus, that was so stressful. We are both panting heavily, but at least we can relax for five minutes until we feel strong enough to complete the second half of the task. Time to wipe ourselves down with kitchen roll.

Hot Flush

What does it feel like to have a hot flush when you’re in the menopause? Well, I write about this in 50:

Everything is normal, then suddenly it begins with a mini explosion of heat originating around the ears and neck, before swiftly radiating out over the shoulders. The heat then expands in all directions over the head and down into the body in pulsating waves of such extreme heat that it demands immediate adjustment of clothing. Perspiration breaks out everywhere, including in places I’ve never sweated before: on my chin, shins, stomach, back, and inner arms. The back of my neck becomes moist, and hair clings to the skin as if I’ve just done a work-out at the gym. Rivulets of sweat run down my chest between my breasts. Sweat breaks out on my face and forehead, which shines and glints in the light, even if it’s an overcast, gloomy day. The temperature remains at an unbearably hot intensity for about three minutes, pulsating in slow waves from extreme, to impossibly extreme, before it suddenly, rapidly dissipates and I start to feel a magnificent relief. Sadly, this is instantly followed by being unpleasantly cold as my body instantly cools, the sweat useless on my body, my clothes hanging in chilly wet patches. This happens about twenty-five times per day and every time I wake at night, which can be up to five or six times. Bed sheets, pillow cases, and pyjamas have to be changed every few days. I need to wash frequently, especially under the arms. The need for antibacterial soap is paramount. Everything about this is tedious and irritating. It’s not painful, but it’s deeply unsettling and exasperating.

The menopause induces a raging internal climate change.
But why? What is the point of this suffering?
I don’t think anyone knows. Mother nature has not revealed her reasons.