The word dry has become a four-letter word in my life. It wasn’t always like this. Now, dry has so many meanings.
SPOILER ALERT: Today’s blog will contain the words, VAGINA, SANDPAPER, and SEX. No worries if this isn’t your thaaaaaaaaaaaaaaang, just wanted full disclosure on today’s topic.
I thought I had been relatively lucky with menopause. As I have shared with you, I was 46 when I had my last period, September 15, 2008. According to me, my family was left unscathed by any mood swings. They may have other opinions. I will admit that the hot flashes were intense, mainly in the middle of the night when I realized the back of my knees were responsible for the puddles of water in our bed. Outside of that, it wasn’t too bad….I was wrong.
Before we get into this further, here’s a little backstory on my definitions of dry. Prior to menopause, the word dry had a couple of meanings. It could be a place or event where I couldn’t enjoy my oaky chardonnay. Dry also meant when winter hit; I needed to apply more lotion.
ENTER menopause and add more definitions to the word D-R-Y.
Here’s where the definition of dry has taken on a whole new dimension and hijacked-WARNING going to use one of the three words-VAGINA.
I’m not sure when it started. I also don’t remember giving the Shop- Vac ® permission to extract all hydration out of my vaginal walls. What exactly was going on and why was this happening to me? I thought it could be karma punishing me because I probably laughed the hardest out of our family at my mom when we had to pull over on the side of the road in the middle of a Midwestern winter in the mid -1970’s so she could walk around with her coat off. We all know what they say about karma. Mom, I’m sorry, I really am.
So, as a writer, I started to research about what was going on. I wasn’t worried. I could solve the problem by purchasing over-the-counter products all promising to revive that region into that of a teenage girl with a crush on the high school football quarterback.
Well, these creams and potions lasted for a quick minute.
Have I told you how patient and understanding my husband is?
Doctor, Doctor, Give Me The News
Medical intervention was the next step. My doctor, a woman, suggested I spit into test tubes at various times of the day to determine where my hormones were in the whole process. Then, I was to send my saliva samples to a lab where they diagnose what types of hormone replacement would serve me best.
At this point, patience isn’t getting a front seat in this menopause docudrama. I did it anyway. The tests confirmed I was in full menopause. Really?
From there I tried topical hormone creams, compounds, and other products all claiming to rejuvenate my vagina back to its fighting and hydrated self. More medical intervention. An OB/GYN diagnosed my condition as vaginal atrophy. Yay!
Did I mention how patient and understanding my husband is?
SEX & Menopause
Here’s where I use the other two words I warned you about at the beginning of the blog- SANDPAPER and SEX.
Sex and menopause, the ultimate oxymoron.
So, as my vagina was petrifying faster than a fossil, sex was becoming painful almost at the same rate. My vaginal region had been replaced with a construction grade of sandpaper. I could only imagine the fun my husband was having. I would pretend it was fine and after awhile my husband realized it wasn’t. When something is crazy painful, chances are you don’t want to partake in that activity. So, on top of my newly diagnosed vagina, my sex-drive was plummeting.
Pinch me. Surely I must be dreaming.
I was mad and guilt-ridden. Intimacy in a relationship is important. My vagina was letting me down, letting my husband down. As a peace offering on gift-giving holidays, I would offer to hire an escort service so he could at least have some fun. He always declined. He’s a good man.
Riddle me this, Batman. Can’t somebody, I don’t care who it is, figure out how to re-purpose the sweat from our hot flashes to hydrate our vaginas? If there is somebody out there that thinks they can, contact me as soon as possible, please.
In the meantime, the search for my 25 year-old vagina continues as I search for a remedy.
Until that happens, I have seriously contemplated turning my vaginal atrophy into a super power. Imagine how I can help the flood-ridden areas of the country? I could dry up anything in minutes.
Am I alone? Let me know!