Well, one singular monster to be completely accurate. It’s
me.
(Innovative, but I like the dragon version better. Image from cestlavie22.wordpress.com)
It’s possibly unwise to continue with a post that
alienates half of my readership by gender automatically, but sometimes these
things just need saying, so I apologise to any male readers and particularly
those without strong stomachs. If you really want to run away I promise not to
laugh. Well, I promise not to laugh too
much.
It’s that time of the month.
For those unfamiliar, what I mean is it’s the one week a
month where regardless of how well behaved I am in terms of maximum being kind
to myself and minimum stress I’m riddled with pain regardless. It’s the one
week out of every four when Petunia starts wearing her Smaug hat, decides she’s
King Under the Mountain and wakes up to find that someone stole her Arkenstone.
She doesn’t take this particularly well.
I can put as many strategies in place as I like (and
believe me I’ve tried repeatedly) but to continue with my metaphor, none of
this matters and I am essentially Esgaroth on the Long Lake
heading for a roasting.
Prior to contracting Fibromyalgia, with some help from the
contraceptive pill I didn’t have particularly bad periods. A couple of days of
stomach ache and to be honest that was the worst it ever became. I’d have
frequent accompanying headaches but that would be the utmost extent of any peripheral
symptoms. I was never given to PMS either. As long as I had access to a hot
water bottle and bananas I’d remain the picture of equanimity about the whole
thing.
Yes, bananas. Stop looking at me like that. They can help
settle down cramps because they’re full of potassium – and unlike the other
oft-toted remedy of chamomile tea bananas don’t taste like pond water.
Enter Petunia and her dragon phase. The problem isn’t just
that the usual cramps have gotten worse; it’s the sudden interaction with the
usual pain and stiffness symptoms. It usually renders me far too uncomfortable
to exercise for at least the first few days, so I don’t have my usual get out
of jail with only minor aching card to play.
The worst part though is my horrendous mood swings, which
as I said I never used to have. I’ll either be irrationally irritated by
everything (whether it would have irritated me or not on a normal day doesn’t
really seem to factor in) or I just want to curl up and cry for…... well, no
reason I can particularly think of. It’s not a good time to catch me with a
weepy film, as my mother learnt to her amusement last year.
Sure, let’s watch The Bucket List. “It’s not too bad, you might cry a little bit at the end”.
Sure, let’s watch The Bucket List. “It’s not too bad, you might cry a little bit at the end”.
(All joking aside it's a great film, I recommend giving it a watch. Image from abucketlist.com)
Fast forward two hours and I was making a solid attempt at
the world’s first house flood caused purely by tears. As an aside though if you
ever want me to cry on cue, apparently you just have to show me either Morgan
Freeman or Bernard Cribbins being especially sincere (I’m looking at you Russel
T Davies, and I haven’t forgiven you for The End of Time yet!) and I’ll sob
like a baby.
So, we’re left with the only solution being the one my
friend and I usually come to – if it can’t be fixed by cake, it ain’t worth
fixing. Fine in theory, except that I already tend to feel like something of a
beached whale for the entire time because I can’t exercise, so whilst cake
never makes it worse, in this instance it doesn’t necessarily make things
better either. You can’t blame a girl for diligently making further tests in
this regard though…
My inventory for these weeks tends to consist of my hot
water bottle or my wheat bag, the sofa, Disney films, the occasional piece of
cake (in the name of science) and as many cups of chai tea as my attempts at
Puss in Boots eyes can encourage out of my long-suffering other half. If you
don’t already then you really should feel for him a bit, he does after all have
to live with me when I’m like this.
So, I have come to a conclusion.
If I ever rule the world, “time of the month” is going to
come with an automatic opt-out for those suffering with other health problems,
given it seems to interact with most of them.
With this in mind, who’d vote for me?
Pushing tongue out
of cheek, and wishing you all many spoons xxx
I've had a mirena coil for the last 6 years, and it's worth every bit of the discomfort of the actual insertion/replacement and the first couple of months while your system goes mental trying to work out what's going on. I haven't had a proper period in 5 years, and the monthly cycle is more like an occasional unexplained weepy few days, tender boobs every now and again, and an occasional cramp for half an hour once a quarter. Prior to this, it was 10 days of sheer agony and floods and mood swings every 3-4 weeks. I will never go back.
ReplyDelete