My Menopause Blog: The Informants

I'm not sleeping. But I guess this is obvious by the fact that I am blogging.

As you can easily see by the time stamp on my posts, I don't lean toward night blogging. I do however have a fondness for night sleeping which is not so obvious but is in fact true. Call me crazy, but gee I do like good old fashioned sleeping at night.

Instead of tossing and turning, I'm reading through stuff I've written but never posted hoping this will put me to sleep. So far, it's not working. Now I'm not sleeping but I am editing and of course blogging.

This may be a long, sorry night, despite my earlier admission to being wiped out.

So lucky me. I found a recount of my first and only mammogram that happened to coinside with the tender breast part of menopause, written February of last winter.

The first time I saw the word peri-menopause, I laughed. How perfect I thought. Peri is kind of like the word period with a bit missing. And meno with pause stuck on the end is like menstruation on hold. My translation is 'little bit of period, kind of like usual, not sure when it's coming.' Or even more succinct 'put away the white pants.'

What I'm learning, as I enter the menopause staging area of my life, is that my breasts, more than ever, are my best friends. They tell me what they know. They tell me where I'm at. And even better they are clear about 'what's coming down' so to speak.

My boobs are much better informants than the little red dots I put on my calendar. Now with a cycle that runs between 17 and 28 days, my little red dots offer no advance warning at all. But my tender breasts are more than clear about my impending peri.

My right breast is the most vocal. At first I didn't understand it's new and loud message. Given how much time I spend learning about breast cancer, I immediately made an appointment with my doctor, just in case. Alice arranged for me to have a mammogram. My first.

The technician squashed my mouthy breast and her quieter friend until they both cried uncle. Actually, I cried uncle. Okay, maybe I simply cried. I felt ouch like nothing I can describe. But then again, I've never given birth so what do I know about ouch.

Turned out my 'telling it like it is' breasts were simply doing their job. They were announcing a change. I simply didn't understand the message.

So, just like a boob, I squashed the messenger.

Sue Richards

Tags: My Menopause Blog, breast cancer, mammogram.