To Bleed or Not to Bleed - That Is The Question...

One day my ovaries (well, technically only one of them) decided to revolt against my aging, prove it wrong, defy it with all its mighty might. At first, it wasn't even funny how mighty it proved to be. That tiny shrinking hormonal gland was going through its own mood swings, sending me to the bathroom more often than my small bladder. I'd wake up several times a night to check for any leakage.
For 2 bloody (and I mean it literally) years I had to forgo wearing white, had gone to Costco and invested serious cash into feminine disposables.
Then it stopped - the shrinkage became irreversible and I was considering to set the fire on all of my remaining 'Mommy diapers' and my tampons... I imagined a fun fire in the garden, a glass of wine and warm memories of PMS and cramps and bloating and breast tenderness, as I'd pour the tampons out of their box and say my final goodbyes. I'd even shed a tear...
Well, what do you know, three months into it and the ovary woke up. Off I go to the drug store to replenish my supply. As I prepare for the usual and so very familiar routine, it stops. It comes back in a week for a day. Then 4 months later for 5 days.
I've realized that my ovary isn't playing the die hard/hide-and-seek with nature. It's playing evil mind games with me. It comes unexpectedly: when I am out running very far from home, or when I am in the middle of an important conversation. It hits you with the ever diminishing might (finally!) leaving you somewhere between a pad and a pantyliner. FOR DAYS! Try exercising with this! Tampons won't do anymore, due to the Symptom #7 - Vaginal Dryness.

As always, I find a silver lining in this situation as well - this is the only time when I am hot-flash free! But more often than not, when I wake up in the middle of the night chafing, I reeeeally long for that bonfire...

33 and Me

Well, it is supposed to be 34, but since I am still waiting for the last one to arrive, I'll concentrate on the 33 symptoms - it's a long list, really.
I've told you all about my hot flashes (1), night sweats (2), pain (3), sleeplessness (4).
We are on to Symptom #5 - Mood Swings.
The only difference between my mood swings and the bipolar disorder is that my version of abnormally elevated energy levels is yelling at the top of my lungs at an asshole in the car in front of me for cutting in. Then my energy immediately drops to the minus levels and I start hating myself for yelling at the guy. Luckily, the windows were closed, so he couldn't have heard me, so I am happy again. My energy comes back, AND...
there is that asshole again. Clinically it's referred to as 'rapid cycling'.
I also experience waves of depression. Well, no, Tsunami of depression, when a hole in my running socks suddenly reminds me of trapped Chilean miners, or Darfur or something equally atrocious and my intestines tie into a boa tie. And all I can do is lie down and cry, thinking of how pathetic I am, which, in turn, makes me even more depressed.
The good news is that many of the art geniuses out there are believed to have suffered from bipolar disorder (Van Gogh, anybody?). So my plan is that while my own version of the disorder is lasting, I should quickly try to create something artsy that would become an instant masterpiece. If only I didn't spend all my elevated energy on that asshole...