Emotions Running High

It's no secret that I took hormones to get pregnant. What you may not know is just how many I took. All told, I went through five rounds of full IVF medications and six more rounds of recipient hormones. That's a heck of a lot of drugs. 

Hormones aren't much fun for anybody, but I seemed to have a much harder time with them than most of my friends. Living with me was worse than living with a house of sorority sisters who all got a visit from their "friend" the same week. I have no idea why Tom stayed with me. If I could have, I would have left myself.

This past March, I had an ELECTIVE full hysterectomy. Simply, all those extra hormones put me at risk for ovarian cancer, one of the most silent and deadly cancers of them all. I didn't want to have gone through all this trouble to have kids only to leave them motherless early in life. So I controversially opted to just take the whole kit and kaboodle out. It's not like I was going to get pregnant again. 

Sadly, my family may prefer me dead to the way I am now. Let's just say if you thought I was nuts on fertility drugs, you ain't seen nothing til you've seen me in sudden, early menopause. Hormone replacement therapy doesn't seem to be doing the trick either. Plus, you can only do HRT for five years without putting yourself at risk for breast cancer. Sprinkle in the stress of our uncertain situation and I'm a cranky mess.

I have now decided in hind sight that I have a harder time on hormones because I have the same sensory disorder that my daughter does. Ironic, isn't it? I've always had it, but there was no diagnosis when I was a kid. My language wasn't behind, but maybe everything else was. My parents aren't here to ask, but I do know a few things. I remember I was the last in my class to learn to write my name. Does that mean my fine motor skills were off? I was really clumsy (still am!). I was never very good at sports. I had extreme tantrums as a child. I hated wearing anything around my neck and ripped apart clothes because they were uncomfortable. As an adult, I still have a bunch of symptoms. I only know this because I read through the list of adult signs looking ahead for Maisie and the light went off. I'm pretty sure I'm right. Don't feel bad for me. This sensory stuff is probably what helped me end up as a feature reporter in life so it isn't all bad. It's just a matter of learning differently and channeling your energy into something positive.

All to say that last night as I sat there regretting yet another time I bit Tom's head off, I emailed the Department of Chinese Medicine at Raffles Hospital. Chinese medicine is supposed to be really great at managing menopause. Heck, the very high-tech doctors who finally got me pregnant had me do accupuncture MINUTES both before and after I was implanted. Doctors I saw in New York had me see a Chinese doctor in conjunction with their treatment. Anyway, I emailed the hospital here just before midnight. At 5AM, they emailed back with a 10:15 appointment today! Can you imagine that efficiency in the US?!

I kind of expected the doctor to have a bunch of vials of weird looking herbs in her room, but the office was like any doctor's office in the US except the exam was far different. First off, her English wasn't all that good so explaining where I am with things took a good 20 minutes. When we finally understood each other, she then took my pulse on each wrist and looked at my tongue. All done. That's the way Chinese doctors diagnose. No need to strip, take my blood pressure or stick a thermometer up my butt. Whew.

When she asked me about my symptoms, I nodded in compliance. Of course, when she asked me if I'm having hot flashes and night sweats, I wanted to say something snarky like, "Beats me. It's hot in Singapore," but I just kept on nodding. I admit, sometimes I wonder if Singapore is really this hot or if maybe I'm having one big hot flash.

I left with enough medicine for five days. If it seems to be working, I'm to come back Saturday for a month's supply and find a Chinese doctor in the US.

What kind of medicine? Well, a tiny little pill it's not. I'm to take SIXTEEN packets per day of dried herbs. Things with names like White Peony Root, Common Yam Rhizome and Spine Date Seed - and those are the ones I can read! I'm supposed to dissolve all sixteen packets at once into a cup of hot water in the morning and drink half. In the afternoon, I reheat the other half and drink it.

As I was leaving, I asked the nurse, "Does it taste good?" She wrinkled up her nose, shook her head vehemently and almost screamed, "NO!" She suggested putting honey in it.

Let me tell you, all the honey in the Pooh's honey pot isn't going to make this stuff taste good. It is just plain nasty. The Chinese could learn a thing or two about grape flavoring! I now recall that I drank something similar when I saw that first Chinese fertility specialist. Man, it must suck to be sick if you're Chinese.

 Almost as shocking as the sixteen packets was the fact that the doctor saw me on time and finished with me in 10 minutes! I had time to kill and since I was so close to Little Arabia, I walked over there and poked around.

My mother-in-law would love this area. There is store after store of gorgeous fabrics as well as all sorts of cute shops in the old shophouses that line the streets.

 

I found the cutest store that sells clothes made of locally-made Peranakin batik called Utopia. The clothes are FAR cuter in person than they are on-line. The local batik is much brighter than most batiks and my dress is a halter dress with a chinese-type tie collar. I've looked everywhere for something similar. Of course, only one thing in the store fit me since the clothes are all made for Asians, but I'm more motivated than ever to lose weight just so I can buy some more clothes there - if we come back! 

I picked the kids up and we went to Tom's office. Maisie told me yesterday she wanted to surprise Tom at his office today. Unfortunately, surprise to her didn't mean that Daddy would come out to the waiting room to get us. Luckily, Marco - Tom's coworker who lives in Shanghai - is here and found some candy to cheer up the sad kiddos.

We all trooped down the street to a HUGE hawker stall, two glorious, city-block size floors of street food. 

I'm not really sure what we ate. Well - Hudson ate goldfish and rice cake left over in his snack box. Maisie did eat some sort of fried chicken and mango drink. She's getting very good about trying things! Most people here eat using a fork and spoon in conjunction. Some use chopsticks and a spoon. The guy next to us today, however, was probably African and used his hands. Maisie's eyes were as wide as pies.

The things about hawker stalls whether they are at Marina Bay Sands or in a parking garage, they're basically the same. Each stall has several pots, each with different broths and flavourings. The cooks add a little of this and a little of that, pours in the required type of noodles or rice and voila - you've got a meal. This is a picture of one from the Marina Bay Sands, the fanciest of all food courts around town.

One cool thing? How they "take away" drinks here. Look at the cool carriers. I keep meaning to take a photo of this.

Anyway, we came home, grabbed the stroller and walked to Hudson's golf lesson. He promptly fell asleep which was my grand plan. The problem is, he was still asleep when it was time for the lesson so Maisie started the lesson and that's where things went downhill. She was all excited - at first - but she was too over tired to really focus. Overtired for Maisie looks like EXTREME hyper activity. She was running around the room, flinging things to the floor and really misbehaving - making raspberries at the teacher - the whole nine yards. She got a time out rather than the promised ice cream if she calmed down. Hudson woke up, cranky. With both of them hysterical, I walked home. Maisie cried for 45 minutes and fell asleep. 

A half-hour later, she woke up worse than ever and cried for another hour or more. Seriously. Two hours of absolutely hysterical crying. Nothing I did or said made a difference. 

But here's the good part: Menopausal Melinda would have reacted badly, yelling or doing everything in my power not to yell. Melinda the Drinker of Really Nasty Tea remained incredibly calm. Maybe it was the herbs - or perhaps the retail therapy - but I handled the worst tantrum of her life to date with incredible detachment. Maybe there's something to this Chinese medicine afterall. I mean, hey, it dates back to 2000 B.C. so it can't be too off, right?

Wonder if there's a tea for tantruming kids? Nah - it'd never work. I'd have to put too much honey in it and the whole sugar high would be just as ugly. Oh well - at least one of us seems saner.