The Never-Ending P

There are 3 stages to menopause. I had always thought there was just the one. But now that I have reached this point in my life, I have found out that there are actually, 3. There are Perimenopause, Menopause and Post Menopause. Perimenopause are all the years of torture a woman will go through before she finally reaches menopause. These are the years and years of night sweats and hot flashes, irritability, weight gain, muscle loss, hair loss, hair growing where it shouldn’t grow, bouts of depression, feelings of emptiness.  Also, vaginal dryness, low libido, fatigue, insomnia. The list goes on. Sounds fun, Right? 

These are all symptoms due to the vast amounts of hormonal changes your body is going through. So, I am currently, and have been, stuck in the first stage, perimenopause. I have been stuck here for years. A woman won’t leave this stage until she has successfully not had a period for a year. I have come close. Real close. Many times. I went almost 10 months without a single drop, but the witch always comes back. Sometimes it comes and never seems to go away. There are months I have had my period for 3 weeks in a row. And I’m not meaning like light pink, just need a panty liner kind of periods.  I’m talking full blown heavy, almost needing a blood transfusion, having to wear a hospital size Kotex plus super absorbent tampon, type periods. The one thing I am really looking forward to is never again having to deal with a period. But as close as I have come, I never can quite make that year mark. And every time the witch appears, the clock starts over.  

I remember the first time I got my period. It was August 1986 and I had just turned 12. Right there, in the bathroom, on that beautiful summer afternoon, I became a woman.  I was so excited. My little girl self was beaming. I was now a woman, and this will happen to me every month, for the rest of my life. It would come month after month after month, like a new best friend. Boy, was I dumb. I quickly learned that year as I entered into the 6^th grade, number one, I was not a woman. I was still not invited to sit at the adult table at holiday dinners. And number two, that witch was not my best friend. 

The only thing I can remember about 6^th grade is that, I had my period. All the time. It seemed to come weekly instead of monthly. I had cramps to where I was sure I was dying. I was tired all the time. I had to carry a “woman’s kit” with me, always.  It contained Kotex and panty liners, just in case I found myself in an emergency situation. My period was taking over my life and I hated it. It was not at all what I thought it would be. 

 During one of my classes, on what began as an ordinary, period free day, I asked my teacher if I could use the bathroom. She told me to be quick because we were getting ready to go to lunch. I ran out to the hallway, ran into the girls bathroom, and there in the bathroom stall, I started my period. I was in a panic. I did not have my little emergency bag. I had left it in the classroom. There was no one else in the bathroom, and no Kotex in site. Not knowing what to do, and knowing I was running out of time, I wadded up a bunch of toilet paper and stuffed it into my underwear. I figured I would have plenty of time to grab my little bag before my class went to lunch, run back to the bathroom and fix this mess.  But, that didn’t happen. When I exited the bathroom, my class was already lined up in the hallway, heading towards the cafeteria. My teacher told me I needed to hurry up and get in line. And so I did. And that was a big mistake.

I entered the cafeteria and got in line for my lunch tray. As I walked, I could feel that wad of toilet paper moving all around. There was no tape on it like a Kotex, so it had nothing to hold it in place. I grabbed my tray and sat down to eat. I felt much better sitting down because that wad of paper stayed put. I sat and ate and chatted with my friends, and just about completely forgot what was happening in my underwear. When I got up from the table to throw out my trash, I could feel the wad of toilet paper shift, and I was reminded that I was in the middle of a crisis situation. As I went back to my table, the wad of toilet paper escaped my underwear and was now heading down one of my pant legs.  I turned and quickly headed for the exit but was stopped by one of the cutest boys in our 6^th grade class, Steven. He was my crush. I stood there, afraid to move. He was right in front of me. He was saying something that I either don’t remember or didn’t hear. I was in a state of shock. As he went on talking, I looked down and saw that wad of bloody toilet paper was on the floor, next to my foot. I looked back up at him, then back at the floor and within macro seconds, scooped up the toilet paper and ran for the door. I ran straight to the school clinic and started crying to the school nurse. I told her what had happened and she put her arm around me. She told me to calm down and gave me a Kleenex and a Kotex. She led me into the bathroom and told me to take my time and sprinkle some water on my face to get rid of my tears. 

After, what seemed like an eternity, I exited that clinic bathroom. I remember the nurse asking me if I was ready to go back to class. I remember telling her no and that I wanted to go home. She had said that I would be fine enough to return to class. But I wasn’t fine. I was mortified. I was sure everyone in that cafeteria had seen what happened. And I was convinced they could hear that wad of bloody toilet paper hit the lunchroom floor like a bolder.  Steven was standing right there. There is no way he had missed what had happened. And I was sure he had told his friends and the whole school. I remember not wanting to go back to class. But I did.  I remember standing outside of the classroom door for what seemed like a long time and bracing myself for the taunts and teases that I knew were coming. But they didn’t. All my classmates were preoccupied with a classroom project. I don’t even think they had realized I was gone and that I had just returned. Nobody knew what had just happened. Nobody saw it. 

I learned two things that day. Number one, I would never ever leave my emergency bag behind again. And number two, the school nurse was my best friend.

-Desiree