Thanks but no thanks

Long ago in another lifetime, I worked on the Hudson's Thanksgiving Day Parade in Detroit. I often took such gigs to pay for ramen. I hadn't dressed adequately for the cold, and it was all pretty miserable. Got back to my apartment, cold and ready to doze and warm up the rest of the day. Until the guy I'd recently started dating showed up and got pissy that I hadn't planned any thanksgiving feast. Well, thanksgiving was no a holiday for me. I should have dumped him right then. Would have saved a lot of pain. But it was the path toward my life now, long and rocky and painful as it was.

I would still never celebrate thanksgiving until 1990. Even then, it would be mostly the Friday after. It's an observation of gratitude I have warmed up to gradually, with a sidle and a side-eye.

Hands in

My left thumb triggers and aches. My right wrist and thumb are threatening occasionally. The hot flashes are very slowly ebbing, I think.

Just have to make it to retirement before I have to even consider surgery, the brace is working for now.

Giving away tampons

I’m calling it. I declare myself post fucking menopausal! Making a gift of my leftover supplies.

Glad, but the aches and age crowd in to fill the space.

Whence the coda?

What will I put here, once menopause is done? Hotflash documentation? Aches and pains?

Better here than complaining to anyone who will pretend to listen.

Mild sadness

Ten months, and I should make an appointment to be sure in September. Odd sense of age and sadness, no regrets about not having the babbys, only of deterioration of this body. The grey hair such a powerful visual.

But who knows how much longer I might steam on?

Nine months and counting

So, I will try to abstain from alcohol until this is an official year. But it does look like I may be home and vigorously toweling off. Nothing I can do until then.

But stay healthy and wait.

Waiting and waiting.

At least I got a little warning. The infrequency suggests that the process has an inevitable end point. Presumably.

When, the question of course is.