Summer Update - Part 1 - The Misery...

My lack of updates has not been through a lack of time or even a lack of things to post about. The truth is, I have been really struggling lately. It's all down to the menopause. I hoped that HRT would be a magic wand, but the effects so far have been short-term. Patch number one didn't work. Patch number two worked... until it didn't. Then I was put on a patch and tablet combo - and I have yet to try it. Why? Because there's a HRT shortage. Everywhere had the pill, but not the patch. Long story short, I am back on patch two, and it doesn't work. Some days are better than others, granted, but there are days when I don't move from my chair. I'm only 46, for crying out loud, I'm too young to be like this. 

In case you're wondering why there's a random picture here? It's because I don't like how my homepage looks when there's a blog post without a picture. It was that or a photograph of my HRT patches or a selfie of me looking like Waynetta Slob. 

And the thing is, it's not something you can push through. It's not like pain. I live with pain daily and have done for many years. I can push through pain, suck it up and get on with it fuelled by codeine and plastered in Fenbid. But this, I can't. I know, I know I have to speak to a GP again, but even that. Trying to get past the receptionists, who can be contrary, to say the least. At first, my preferred GP dealt with my HRT. When I phoned for my review, like HE told me to, I was told no, indeed. I couldn't speak to him about that. I would have to speak to the nurse. So, fair enough, make me an appointment with the fecking nurse then! (I didn't swear at them, but I felt like it!) When patch number two stopped working, I phoned up and asked to speak to the nurse again... and she couldn't deal with HRT, indeed, I would have to speak to a GP.

Showtime!

"Er, hang on a minute, love..." I interrupted. "When I phoned up to ask to speak to my doctor about it, I was told I couldn't and would have to speak to a nurse, and now when I've phoned up to speak to the nurse about it, you're telling me that's wrong and I have to speak to a doctor. Make your minds up. Which is it?"

I don't like being arsey with them at the surgery because they've had a hell of a time of it the last couple of years. But this hasn't been fun for me, either. 

Mr G has been. Oh. There are no words. For those of you who have followed me for years? Mr G has been exactly what you'd expect him to be. He has acted and reacted exactly how you imagine he would act. He has been beyond fantastic. He has been the benchmark for how men should deal with women going through this. I shouldn't have been surprised, I shouldn't have expected any less from him, but it's almost like he's surpassing himself in his understanding. He's educating himself on the subject. He's angry on our behalf that women are being subject to this shortage of something that we need. I think he realises that if it's stopped me dead, then it's real. He has been kind, patient with me, so patient with me. Loving. Thoughtful. Reassuring. I suppose all the nursing him back to health I've done for the last 22 years is paying off. 

If he comes home from working all day, and I'm in the same position as he left me when he went to work, and the dishes are still in the sink, or there's nothing for his tea, or his uniform isn't ironed. He rolls up his sleeves and washes the dishes, pops to Morrisons for a picnic tea, and irons his own damned uniform because he can. Not that it's my job to do all those things just because I'm a woman, but it's the role I like to play. I'm happy to play it, wife, mother. I'm not in work right now, and so my 'job' is running this house and co-ordinating my family. I used to do it well. And now I don't anymore, I'm not in control of anything, my body, my mind, my emotions, my hormones, my home. I feel like I'm failing everyone. I feel down about 90% of the time and this is not like me. I don't want to leave the house. I don't even want to go and watch my beloved Crusaders right now, but I know that if I didn't go, Mr G wouldn't go. 

Unlike before when these little slumps would come and go, and I could get through them by being kind to myself, that's not working anymore. I know I need to see a GP and there's only me who can do that. I just need to get past the mental block that I have that I'm somehow bothering them, or wasting their time, or that someone else might need the appointment more than this, or that I can or should, somehow, be able to push through it. Because I can't, I know I can't. This isn't mental, or even physical. I can't solve this with pain relief, or positive thinking. Something is imbalanced inside me and I need help that I can't buy over the counter or find on YouTube.