I hate pills

You know you're getting older when you have to eat breakfast even if you'r not hungry because you have to take your pills.  I was bending over this morning to collect laundry and my hips reminded me that I hadn't taken my Aleve yet.  Sigh.  So here I sit eating a bowl of oatmeal I don't really want but have seen too many gut bleeds from people who take NSAIDS on empty stomachs not to eat it.  My husband says I'm very good natured about my autoimmune illness, which surprises me because I feel like I whine all of the time.  I keep going, but it's not beneath me to emit "ows" very quietly as I walk in the morning.

My mother died a horrible death from a constellation of illnesses:  diabetes, hypertension,  kidney failure, and heart failure.  Of course the kidney and heart failures were a direct result of poorly controlled diabetes and hypertension but let's not go there.  As a result I am a self-confessed health nut; I try to live my life in moderation, weigh the same that I weighed when I graduated from high school, exercise regularly, and so on.  You get the picture.  Imagine my dismay when I developed an autoimmune illness that no one seems to know what to do about so I'm stuck treating symptoms instead of cause.  I feel cheated.

So another sign of impending old age -- pills.  Lots and lots of pills.  Not to mention the limits on physical activity options.  Running:  Out; arthritic fee.  Swimming:  Good, but pool hours don't coincide with what little free time I have during the week so out.  Lifting weights:  Good, but only with very very very light weights (we're talking three pounders -- I guess I'll sell my weight belt on eBay); anything else makes my shoulders and hands ache.  Yoga:  Good!  Walking:  Good!  Tai chi:  Even better!  All of the exercise you see OLD PEOPLE DOING in those senior fitness commercials.  I refuse to exercise in bloomers.

I saw a picture of a beautiful 94 year old woman  standing next to her son who was in his seventies.  I said to Jack, "I hope I look that good when I'm 94, "  to which he replied, "You won't live that long, the RA will kill you first."  Thanks Jack, thanks a whole helluva lot.

Well, I'm done with my oatmeal.  Time for pills.

The old lady speaks.

http://www.rollingstone.com/culture/blogs/pop-life/the-ghastliest-half-time-show-in-sports-history-20110207

I was so happy to see this headline.  Of course, you may argue that only old farts read Rolling Stone anymore but I digress.  I was loyally sitting and knitting while my husband watched the Game (with his Steelers cap and Timmons jersey on, no less) when the half time show came on.  Three (or was it four?) humans came down from the sky suspended on ropes.  Okay.  Legions of dancers gyrated in white jumpsuits -- well, that's a little weird.  Legions of dancers gyrated in light suits -- weirder still.  And then, the dancers with the block heads.  Add that to the monumentally un-musical Black Eyed Peas and that half time show was one hot mess.  Fergie looked like a dominatrix ad for Lane Bryant, and what was with that guy's little plastic beanie?

I began to worry that I was becoming my mother until I saw this headline.  I am vindicated!  I am not an old fart!  I am not becoming my mother!

Freckles and wrinkles and zits -- Oh my!

Why does insurance pay for Viagra but not Renova?  I have peri-menopausal acne (the scarring kind), not a lot of wrinkles and straight up Retina-A eats my skin, so I have to use Renova.  Renova is just a super weak version of Retin-A in a very emollient base that is marketed as an anti-wrinkle cream for middle aged ladies (and men too I suppose).  It works wonders on the acne but I have to pay full price for it and it is not cheap.  Doesn't insurance pay for acne medications for teens?  Waahhhhhhhh.

I sometimes look at my array skin care products and think, "when did I become the Queen of Sheba?"  One lotion to cleanse but not irritate, another potion to clean my eyelids (for the blepharitis and dry eyes), a lotion to moisturize the spots that aren't oily, then the Renova.  I belong to the cult of Cetaphil so I can get everything at a drugstore or my beloved Target but geez.  I don't even wear a whole lot of make up -- when did I become so high maintenance?  Remember when a camping trip required a bar of soap, toothpaste and a toothbrush?  Ha!

Vaginal Dryness or Hey, Who Put a Knife up My Woo Woo?

DISCLAIMER:  I have an autoimmune disorder that shall remain nameless (it really is nameless, they don't know what it is) that causes my body to dry out from head to toe.  Eyes, mouth, throat, skin, any mucous membrane, if it once was wet it is now parched, so it could be peri-menopause or it could be this annoying condition, or it could be a little of both that is draining my precious bodily fluids.  Cause aside, my vagina has become its own miniature Mojave.  Now we've all heard of vaginal dryness but it isn't at ALL what I expected.  It isn't just dryness it is A-G-O-N-Y.  First I noticed a horrible internal itch, then I quickly advanced to stabbing pain.  Walking across a room became an adventure -- would I scream before I got to the other side?

So I went to the drugstore and bought a box of REPLENS.  Many women are big fans of this product but I am not one of them.  It burned when I inserted it but within minutes I felt blissful relief, and one application lasted for three whole days.  Two weeks of symptom relief, then this odd little discharge started up, not like a yeast infection or vaginosis but like little bits of tissue paper.  GROSS.  I googled "Replens" and "discharge" and found out the product's dirty little secret -- some women get a disgusting discharge from their vaginas sloughing off the dead layer of dry cells.  Not to worry, the product website insisted, this should go away in a week or two.  But it didn't.

Next I tried ME AGAIN, another vaginal moisturizer intended for those of us of a certain age -- have you noticed that you google "vaginal moisturizer" and you get "intimate lubricant?"  Typical.  It's all about sex.  Anyway, Me Again seemed promising but again, it burned like the dickens when I first applied it.  So off to the internist and prescription land..

Enter VAGIFEM, a little disk of estrodiol that you insert twice a week.  This would have been the best alternative but it only worked for about 6 months and the dryness came back with a vengeance.

Finally I found K-Y LIQUIBEADS.  Heavenly!  They are like those bubble bath beads you put in the tub but are filled with non-irritating, non-hormonal, thirst quenching goodness that you insert twice a week.  The only drawback I have found is that they leave a little oil slick when you pee but that is a small price to pay for long term comfort.  Liquibeads and I were settling into a committed relationship when they disappeared from the drugstore shelves.  I couldn't find them anywhere, so I thought I would order some from Amazon -- Amazon procured my order from discontinuedproducts.com.  Discontinued?  DISCONTINUED?  Before complete panic set in I contacted K-Y customer service.  The nice man who answered my email said no, they are not discontinued but they are out of production until May 2011 due to mechanical issues.  Lucky for me I ordered a four month supply from Amazon.

It irritates me that there seem to be tens of thousands of products to make sex more comfortable but less than half a dozen non-hormonal alternatives for vaginal comfort any other time of the day.

So there you have the saga of my poor withered vaginal.  Who knew?

I didn't know it was going to be like this.

I'm 51.  I don't understand how I got here because I feel about 25 inside and now [gasp] -- peri-menopause.  I haven't had any of the stereotypical symptoms that everyone makes fun of, such as hot flashes or dramatic mood swings, but I do have the most important sign of all -- the pendulum period.  Twenty one days, fifty six days, what's a little inconsistency among friends?   Ugh.  I buy tampons, pregnancy tests and vaginal moisturizers from the same drugstore at the same time, and I am certain the check out girls (yes, they are GIRLS) are eying me when I am not looking.  "What is her trip?" they must think as they dutifully bag my feminine hygiene products and hand them to me with smiles on their unlined faces.  Does anyone even say "trip" anymore?

I am starting this blog because I don't have anyone to talk to about this and I imagine there are other women in the same boat.  My female friends are either much younger or are busy with their children or aren't the kind of women who talk openly about these sorts of things.  My husband is a physician but he's a geriatrician; all of his female patients come to him post-menopause (WAY post-menopause), so peri-menopause is mostly a theoretical concept to him.  Issues I plan to address:  sex after fifty, vaginal dryness, birth control, and so on.  Please feel free to contribute your own stories because many of you must be in the same boat (or have fond-ish memories, anyway).