I’m at the age now where, if I want to read certain sizes of print, they must be held at arm’s length. If I don’t do that, they end up being fuzzy and indistinct and illegible. I made this discovery about a year ago, and it was both amusing to me at the time and a bit sad. Time does march on, doesn’t it.

This week, we’ve been fighting the battle of “suspicious findings” on a CT report. That’s the other reason for poor-quality sleep in recent days – stress. We finally received word today that it looks like at least one major concern – the dreaded C word – is not on the table now. At the very least, the chances that my issue is cancer are very, very small. That’s a huge weight lifted. It still leaves the question of what exactly is going on, which is something that’s going to take further investigation to pin down.

Since we just fought the battle of the kidney stones in July, we’re a bit battle-weary. I’m afraid of what September might bring. I certainly know better than to ask.

In any event, also being bandied about this week were phrases like “hormone replacement therapy,” which is just so much fun to contemplate. When the time comes to make that decision, and that could be soon if surgery ends up being the route we go with, which way do I go? Historically, I don’t do well with hormones. I believe “grin and bear it” is an adage that doesn’t come close to dealing with menopause and the ups and downs it represents. More like “batten down the hatches,” from what I hear. And that’s with HRT. Without it? One shudders to think.

If anything comes close to the caliber of horror stories one hears during pregnancy, which I only am familiar with in a second-hand way as all our “offspring” are and have been cats, it has to be the tales of woe regarding menopause. I’ve heard of some rare, amazing Amazons who breeze through “the change” without a problem, and I’ve heard of some women who ended up in prison thanks to the mood swings. And there are thousands of degrees of varying suffering between those two poles.

I can hope that I’ll be significantly closer to the Amazons than the murderers. I don’t mind committing mayhem and even murder… but I prefer to keep my blood-letting on the page. And I hope that I can manage this looming transition without the aid of hormones, as I really don’t expect I’d do well with those. I’m looking into the benefits of soy and other phytoestrogens, though the information is mixed on them from what I’m finding.

Regardless of whether I breeze through on calm seas or it’s a rocky road, at least we have that one major concern mostly out of the way. I say “mostly” so that I don’t tempt fate and get all cocky by saying it’s completely not a risk. There’s always a risk and I don’t want to ignore it.

As for the sleeplessness, I know that also might be part of perimenopause, and that it might be a lingering issue. If that’s the case, I’ll try to take advantage of the situation and start writing late into the night again. I guess we’ll see what we see, right?

Happy Reading!