Turning the Corner

Lately, I've been in a funk. A few months lately.

I'm tired when I wake up and cranky after a 20-minute treadmill session. I'm taking longer than I should to get ready for work, then spending all day thinking my make-up is too pale or too bright, and my eyebrows too...something. 

Hair is in a constant state of not quite rightness - color too light or too dark or too yellow. Yes, mostly too yellow because my hair is lighter than it's been for years.  Or too gray, I can't decide. The other morning, right before I left home for the office, I told B-man, 'I think my blonde hair might make me look older.' He wisely said, 'I'm not getting into a discussion about your hair color - that's your thing.' My son JD and I met for lunch a couple of weeks ago and he said, 'you remember when you bleached my hair as a teenager?  That's kinda how you look.'  Just put me in a choke hold until I black out.

Plus, I'm not sleeping.  Well, there's menopause sleep, where I wake up at least three times each night with hot flashes, then decide that since I'm already awake, I may as well churn over every humiliating moment of my life. There are quite a few as it turns out. After wearing myself out from memory cringe, reading Prevention magazine and skulking on Facebook, I fall asleep for another hour and a half, but not long enough to prevent me from looking like I was on an all night bender.

Having recently changed doctors, I'm in the process of getting everything current, so I'm doing all the good girl tests including blood draw, mammogram, pap test, the whole package.  However, I refused a colonoscopy because there are very real risks involved. Have you ever seen those ads for butterfly patches to prevent 'anal leakage?'  Seriously.  Has anal leakage always existed and no one discussed it, or could it be the direct result of one too many colonoscopies?  And what marketing genius said, 'I know, I know, let's call it anal leakage?'  

Fortunately there's a viable alternative to a colonoscopy.  I can simply scoop a sample of my poop out of the toilet and send it into a lab for analysis.  That's right, just drop my shit in the mail.  Better than a sharp, probing camera for sure, but reading the instructions for getting the perfect sample is freaking me out. Plus, there's this space station spiraled contraption that I'm supposed to put my poop in. I just stare at it, turn it upside down, then walk away and swear I'll come back to it later. Couldn't I just send a selfie?

The good news is, I like my new doctor.  She is young and earthy and we actually laughed together at my first appointment...once I stopped bawling. Soon I will complete all of my tests and re-emerge hopefully with a clean bill of health and the need to manufacture new first world problems, which I consider a personal strength.  But first, I have to conquer the 'you've got mail' stool sample.

Photo from twitter.com