Ever since I had my jab on Wednesday afternoon I have been waiting for myself to go off like a giant, hormonal bomb of menopause. I have woken up every morning undergoing a kind of inventory. Moustache? Nope. Hot flush? Nope. Dried out husk like appearance? Nope.
It has only been two days, but the consultant was quite firm in listing side effects, general menopausal effects and the idea that rather than drip feeding me the menopause over say, two years, I would be getting it all in one big blast. I don’t think she quite meant within forty eight hours, but better safe than sorry. Don’t want any sneaky symptoms creeping up and taking me by surprise.
So I have been prodding away at myself suspiciously, like something the cat has dragged in, and it is mostly making me laugh at myself a lot. I am not very good at medication and apart from over the counter migraine medication I don’t take anything, ever, so I have a lot of preconceptions about what drugs will and won’t do. It seems I think they are like a medical magic wand.
I have had some symptoms, but then I am five days away from a period, so this is not entirely surprising. What is surprising however, is how mild the symptoms are. Could this be because of being jabbed in the arse with a giant needle on Wednesday afternoon? If it is, they can jab me in the arse every Wednesday from now till kingdom come if they want.
Mild and sporadic nausea rather than not being able to cook/eat or sit in the same room where food is being consumed.
Sore boobs – meh. I can live with, do live with this. Feeling like my tits have been trapped in a drawer is not great, but it’s on the tolerable end of the spectrum.
Mild cramping and that weird sense that the world is going to fall out your vagina.
A headache which is heading into its 24th hour, which is unpleasant, but which is only a headache and not a migraine.
This is all. Everything. The lot.
Seven days before my last period I felt like the world was going to end. Emotionally I had had it and physically things weren’t in much better shape.
God knows if it’s the drugs, but right now I don’t care and I’m counting my blessings, every last one.