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Oct. 20, 2006
New ideas about aging
Menopause doesn't have to mean that life ends.
SHARON MELNICER
Menopause is not a chronic illness," I tell myself in a too-loud
voice. It's usually late at night when I'm cooling off after another
hot flash. My last period occurred in September of 1995, the 14th
to be precise. That was the day I had a total hysterectomy and experienced
instantaneous, surgical menopause.
My doctor likened surgical menopause to "driving a car 100
kilometres an hour and suddenly slamming on the brakes. That's what
it's like for your body." Until then, I never fully understood
that hormones, or the lack of them, could so strongly impact my
mind ... my thoughts, my reactions, my interpretation of the most
mundane things.
Nor did I anticipate the subsequent "brain fog" that descended
upon me like a storm cloud. I wondered if I was succumbing to early
Alzheimer's or just plain losing my mind. I fell out with my boss
for the first time in a decade. I had a loud and embarrassing argument
with a bus driver on my way to work. God only knows why my husband
did not divorce me, and I even shouted at my adult daughter, which
is very rare. I felt like everyone was against me, and did not feel
as though I fitted in anywhere anymore. I was an alien in my own
skin.
This is my 11th year of menopause. The perk is that I'll never have
to worry about another menstrual period again and that I have enjoyed
decade-long holiday from eye-crossing cramps and hemorrhage-like
flows. Instead, I contemplate the hot flashes that never stopped,
despite my 0.625 milligrams of Premarin daily, osteoporosis, a diminished
libido, heart disease, cancer and the other maladies that come with
age – there are several. I try to avert these seemingly inevitable
maladies with a handful of vitamins every morning and a mind-numbing
workout three times a week.
It's more than the physical self that suffers through menopause,
however. We've all heard the story about someone's knife-wielding
aunt, twice removed, who went off the deep end and became a serial
killer because she was taking the wrong hormones. But there's much
more to it. Menopause is a reminder that wrinkles, incontinence
and feebleness, as well as dependency upon others, doctors and medicines,
are becoming reality. For me, it means I'm winding down. I'm getting
old. And it scares me.
The problem with this morbid, half-true perspective is that it is
more feeling than thought. Yes, I've stepped through the door to
mid-life and heard it click shut behind me, but I don't feel aged.
I feel young – youthful even. I look in the mirror every morning
and don't see the wise, old crone I'm supposed to have become. Instead,
a young, vibrant 40-year-old, who is still trying to figure it all
out, looks back at me with a 60-year-old face. Wisdom hasn't come
with age and I'm at the tail end of a generation that wants it all
and who, mostly, have gotten it.
Baby boomers succeeded in bringing in a new paradigm for aging.
Attitudes are changing about the process and we're also living longer.
Some folks in their late 40s and 50s are starting over; taking on
the responsibilities of new families and, in some cases, having
children for the first time. Middle age is no longer middle age.
It's taken on new dimensions that are sometimes hard to define.
The metaphorical line between youth and age has been pushed up a
notch and, personally, I like that.
Recently, I came across an article that suggested the symptoms of
menopause in Western culture might be a result of perspective, that
hot flashes, moodiness and hormonal imbalances may be caused by
our perception of the female aging process. The study, conducted
by Yewoubdar Beyene, which was described in From Menarche to
Menopause, was of the Mayan culture. According to Beyene, Mayan
women experience no menopausal symptoms, besides the obvious, cessation
of the menses. In fact, Mayan women seem to welcome the onset of
menopause, and associate this stage with being young and free.
Even if I don't fully buy it, I can appreciate Beyene's observations.
My children are grown and married, planning families of their own,
and no longer need me to care for them. Sure, I provide maternal
advice occasionally and love always, but mostly, I'm on my own and
have the opportunity to do what I want, when I want to do it. So,
maybe getting older isn't so bad. Maybe being menopausal isn't the
formidable, mind-blowing crisis I've been led to believe it is.
Maybe I would do well to embrace some new ideas about aging.
Sharon Melnicer is a Winnipeg freelance writer.
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