When last we left our intrepid peri-menopausal heroine she was agonizing over whether to try HRT (hormone replacement therapy) or not. After further on-line research she decided to give it a try for six months, just to get through the summer…
And so I picked up my prescription took it one time and then got a call from the doctor’s office saying my blood work came back and the dosage was all wrong. Jeez. In June 2017 my FSH was 22.0. This time it was 6.7 which doesn’t make any sense at all. (FSH should be going up the closer you get to menopause.)
So a new appointment was made for the 2nd week of April (because the Doc has a medical conference to go to in March so that is the earliest available appointment). But I feel better because I know this appointment is really going to focus on HRT and all my concerns. I have all my notes about crazy periods and different symptoms and will remember to tell her that I am only looking for short term relief. I thought I would wait and write a follow up post after that visit.
Funny how the one thing you don’t worry about is always the thing that bites you in the ass. At my last appointment I got my pap smear and promptly forgot about it. (I suspect when I made the appointment the receptionist heard pap smear and didn’t hear the part about HRT and that is one reason the appointment went the way it did.) Anyway, last week I got a call saying there were endometrial cells in my pap test and they need to do a biopsy. Wait. What? What does this mean? Probably nothing good.
After the first flash of panic subsided I did some reading. It wasn’t overly helpful but it could explain some of my symptoms.
So now I wait. All thoughts of HRT are on hold while I see if I have endometrial cancer. And if the cells are benign could they still be causing some of my miseries?
I am worried that I am going to feel miserable all summer. That I won’t get to be the parent I want to be. I have all these fun ideas of things to do but if I am exhausted and crabby and impatient it ain’t going to happen. I am scared that during this horrible phase of my life I am going to permanently ruin the relationship between my son and I.
Right now I am scared of all the unknowns. All the uncertainty. I tell myself this is normal and to get back to my life as it is for now. The kitchen floor isn’t going to mop itself. This is a known fact so I might as well deal with that.
And so it goes, the see-sawing between panic and it’s probably no big deal. The hope that in two weeks I will have answers and hopefully solutions and get to have a decent summer after all. I can hope. 🌈