HRT!

Today was the day of my phone consultation with my GP. He asked how I had been feeling and I told him that although I felt a little better, if I had a battery indicator, I would probably display about 35%. He confirmed that the blood tests unfortunately didn't find anything wrong with me, then he corrected himself and said that it wasn't unfortunate, it was actually good. Then he said that they had tested something else, I missed what it was, but that if it was higher than a 16, it was an indicator of menopause. And mine was. We had a chat, ran through some medical history. He asked me about my brain fog, and flushes and overheating and I told him that I had forgotten how to spell, and I spent evenings sat next to an open window and my nights sleeping with no duvet on. I said 'Put another way, Doctor, I'm a bit of a hot mess right now'. So, to cut a long story short, I'm going to be on HRT from Monday. 

This has thrown up (surprisingly) mixed emotions for me. 

1. Relief. Oh God, the relief, because I've thought I was dying or cracking up at points these last couple of years.

2. Melancholy. Also known as the Rod O'Connor effect. Those phases that Mr G goes through where he thinks he would like another baby. Just one. This usually lasts until we're in a supermarket and he sees someone's kid kicking off and then he's like... actually, you know what? Let's not do that. Even though he wants to try for one more, so he can call it Ariana... yeah, let it sink in. Ariana 'our surname'.

I've realised that there's a distinct difference between not having any more children because you don't want any more, and not having any more children because you physically can't. Which leads me to my next emotion. 

3. Anger. I am feckin' fewmin' that I am in menopause. How the hell did that happen? How the hell am I old enough for this nonsense to be happening to me? This is what happens to old people, I'm not even a proper grown up yet? Not a mature, responsible one, anyway. Not one that you should trust with anything important, anyway. Not one that you'd want to sit next to at a funeral (it's nerves, ok?). 

4. Resignation. Once this is over, there's nothing to look forward to but death. Great. 

Anyway. What else do I have to tell you. Oh, I did some baking for a Macmillan coffee morning at Mr G's works today. I made chocolate cupcakes and Biscoff flapjacks. Macmillan is his company's chosen charity. 

Cru lost their first play off game last weekend, so that means that whatever happens, this weekend's game is the last home game this season. Even if we do progress further in the play offs, we will be playing away from home. 

It was my first night match, and wow, even though we lost, what an atmosphere there. Sadly, we found out yesterday that two of the squad are retiring at the end of the season. Our next game is against Doncaster on Sunday, there's a Happy Hour where there's Wrexham Lager at £2 a pint, which could prove to be messy. Either way, there's going to be a party atmosphere there, give the lads a good home send off.