Close your eyes and picture the scene ... a yellow brick road, a gingham-dressed Dorothy, the tin man, the scarecrow, linking arms, skipping their way toward the Wonderful Wizard of Oz where all of their dreams will come true ... all the while singing "Lions and Tigers and Bears ... oh my!"
Now close your eyes and picture a different scene ... three women, all of a certain age, well dressed in their jeans and flats (because wearing heels at their age usually involves a visit to the chiropractor), carrying trendy handbags, linking arms, not skipping but driving their way (because one of the three has a bad hip, one has a bad knee and the other just wouldn't feel right leaving the others behind) to the Wonderful Local Medical Center where all of their dreams will be quietly but quickly shattered ... all the while singing "Bi-focals, mammograms and pre-menopause ... oh my!"
Welcome to your 40's and beyond! Where the road is no longer paved in gold ... but, rather, paved in a long list of prescription pads and medical tests that you have matured gracefully into needing ... yearly.
I am issuing a warning up front in regard to this post ... if you are not a fan of someone sharing TMI (too much information) than please discontinue reading and perhaps go back and review some of my previous posts. "The Devil is Alive and Well and Living in the Swimsuit Department" and "My Husband is NOT my BFF" have become fan favorites. If you have no such reserves ... then by all means ... continue.
First stop ... the optometrist. I am an avid reader and received my first prescription eye-glasses at the age of 18. At that time, the optometrist told my father that my eyes had been gradually losing their once perfect 20/20 vision because I had my head buried in a book more often than not. So, I guess by staying home on the weekends reading and forgoing underage drinking parties with my peers ... I had done myself a real disservice. (Nick and Chloe if you are reading this ... that was sarcasm. Stay home with mommy and read a good book ... do not drink alcoholic beverages.)
Fast forward 20 years. At the age of 38, my yearly eye exam ended with a very disturbing conclusion ... the optometrist said "I think maybe we should start thinking about bifocals." Now, first of all, we weren't thinking about anything because I was the one that supposedly needed them. He (the optometrist) didn't need to think about getting bifocals because he was only in his late 20's, early 30's. Second of all, no. That's correct. I said, no. As a matter of fact, what I said was "I will not get bifocals until I'm 40." End of story.
And he wrote that down in my chart ... I'm not joking. On my most recent visit he said, and I quote, "I see you said you would not get bifocals until you turned 40. I see you just turned 40."
So here I am ... sitting at my computer ... typing this blog ... wearing these damn bifocals. Which I am finding incredibly hard to get used to. First of all, the lens is much larger than what I am used to wearing ... which for a forty and fabulous woman is a blow to the ego all on its own. Second of all, the "blended" lens has a blurry factor somewhere between the far-sighted and near-sighted portions of the eyeglass that my eye is constantly drawn to. It's frustrating ... but I no longer have to take my glasses off to do anything "reading related," such as typing, reading a book, filling out paperwork, etc. So I guess that's something.
Next stop ... the mammogram. Awww ... the mammogram. Who can think of a better way to spend a beautiful frigid wintry morning than having each of your breasts squeezed flat between a freezing cold vice in a freezing cold hospital room?
Let me be clear ... mammograms are necessary. You have no choice in the matter. You should begin getting yearly mammograms at the age of 40 and earlier if you have a family history of breast cancer. Mammograms can save your life. But not everything that is necessary and life-saving is going to be pleasant.
I actually had my first mammogram at the age of 37. I have no history of breast cancer in my family. So why did I subject myself to this particular form of torture? And now readers, ahead lies a portion of the TMI. Because I was going to get breast implants. That's right. I have breast implants. And in order to get breast implants ... you have to subject yourself to a mammogram in order to assure the plastic surgeon that your breasts are healthy and so the mammographer (is that a real word?) has good picture of your "before" breasts to compare to your "after" breasts to detect any abnormalities.
So, let me sidetrack for a moment ... why breast implants? Several reasons really. For one, when I was 17 my brother was in the Navy and stationed along the gulf coast of Mississippi. My parents were still married at the time and we vacationed there regularly ... renting a condo on the beach. On one of these vacations, my father and I were taking an early morning stroll along the beach. There was a group of girls setting up camp along the beach for the day ... all dressed in their bikinis and sunglasses. My father said, and I remember it vividly ... "The only thing worse than a fat girl in a bikini is a flat girl in a bikini." Hand to God. I was just barely a B cup ... and those words burned into my brain and I never wore a bikini again. Even though, at the time, I had the body to back it up. I have been self-conscious about my bra size ever since.
Another reason ... I breast-fed my babies and my breasts just didn't look the same after that. Now, just so we are all clear ... I didn't breast-feed my children because I am a granola eating, Birkenstock sandal wearing, earth mother. No ... I breast-fed the babies because I was poor and cases of formula were not in our family budget. I chose breast-feeding over cloth diapers. It was a very good decision.
So, after saving for several years ... struggling with what kind of example I was setting for my daughter ... I bit the bullet and went for it. And I have no regrets.
My decision was completely justified after going for my pre-breast implant surgery mammogram when the mammographer (there's that word again) told me to put my breast up onto the vice. She kept saying, no, put the whole thing on the vice. I said, ummmm ... it is. She said ... it can't be. Because the vice couldn't get a good enough grip on it to get a clear picture. So in the true humiliating fashion to which I have become accustomed, she came over and handled my breast, trying to desperately pull it into a more vice-friendly position and said ... I guess you're right ... we'll have to do the best with what we have.
So now that I am no longer sporting a pre-pubescent girl's sized chest, I had the distinct honor of taking my now D breasts off to the cold, sterile hospital room to get my first of many annual mammograms to come. My biggest fear ... that they would pop an implant. They didn't. And I received a clean bill of health.
And now for my favorite 40+ life change ... pre-menopausal symptoms. Warning ... there is definitely TMI included in the paragraphs that follow. There's still time to click to a different subject matter. Just sayin'.
Yes, pre-menopause. The wonderful window opened to those who are well-past their prime baby-making years but not yet able to collect Social Security. I thought when I turned 40 that I had years before experiencing any symptoms. In reality, it took one month. Yep, one month.
I have always been a regularly scheduled menstrual cycle kind of girl. Every 28 days ... only missing it on two occasions ... and I have two children ... so you get what I mean. Everyone said that when you breast-fed your children you could miss your period. Not me. Every 28 days. So imagine my horror when one month after turning 40, my period was 5 days late. Yep, 5 days. I was freaking out. I had my tubes tied when I was 24 ... immediately following the birth of my daughter. Because 2 kids was all I could handle.
I started searching the Internet to find out if it was medically possible for someone who had their tubes tied when they were in their 20s to end up pregnant in their 40s. It is! By day 4 I was in severe panic mode. I called the BFF for an emergency therapy session. She, being a nurse, said it was completely medically possible. That she even knew someone personally who had experienced a late life pregnancy after having had their tubes tied. I told her that was the meanest thing she had ever said to me. She said, yay, we might be having a baby.
The following 24 hours after this therapy session had me convinced that a baby was on the way, that I wouldn't see my last child graduate high school until the age of 58, graduate college until the age of 62 and that all of my plans for taking cooking classes in Paris, traveling the world and enjoying long, lazy "naked" afternoons with my husband in our empty nest of a house wouldn't occur until we were both carrying a Medicare card.
Thankfully, my period did make its appearance and while my husband and I both breathed a much needed sigh of relief, my BFF was devilishly disappointed. Apparently, the explanation for the delayed appearance of Mother Nature was my age. And I was told I could experience much more oddities to my monthly cycle in the future.
Like the following month when I had what can only be described as a "teenager" type period. Light spotting and barely there at all. And early. A whole 6 days early. My BFF said to get used to it. That after she turned 40 her period came a full week and a half early and she didn't realize it until she saw evidence of it running down her leg ... while wearing shorts ... in the summertime. I can't wait.
Other things to look forward to? Hot flashes. My co-worker actually had me convinced I was having a hot flash a couple of months ago until I pointed out to her (who has passed menopause) that she had the heat in our office turned up to 80 degrees.
I can also look forward to mood swings ... which really, if I'm honest, I have always been prone to so now it's nice to have a medically-proven fact to blame them on. And weight-loss is harder to achieve during your pre-menopausal years. Isn't that awesome? But based on that fact, apparently, I have been pre-menopausal for approximately 20 years now.
The light at the end of this seemingly dark and confusing tunnel? That I am the baby of the "peeps." I am the last to turn 40 and my friends have seemingly gone ahead and blazed the middle-aged trail before me and are there to lend a hand to guide me through, a shoulder to cry upon and a sense of humor to help me laugh my way through it.
So link your arms through my mine my friends ... and join me on this journey into "maturity" which we will take one prescription at a time. We're off to see the Wizard ...
© 2010-2011 Melanie L. Miller All Rights Reserved
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