Contrary to popular belief, life actually gets much simpler as you get older.
Take me, for instance. As a 46 year old woman who's been having sporadic bouts of dizziness, nausea, hot flashes and chills for the past few weeks, there are only two things that could be happening.
I was gently reminded of this yesterday afternoon, while enduring a pitying stare from a young intern at Aga Khan Hospital. Because I'd spent a week in Western Kenya recently, and foolishly neglected to take malaria prophylaxis while I was there (STOOPID, I know), I believed it was entirely possible I'd fallen prey to that winged contagion. I even took a blood test at Nairobi Hospital last Friday, which came back negative for malaria parasites.
This time, I knew I'd need to consult with a doctor, and have a broader range of tests. I decided to check out the digs at the hospital named for the fabulously wealthy philanthropist who owns the newspaper I'm working for. Figured maybe I'd get some priority treatment.
Well, the young whippersnapper who examined me clearly had NOT received the memo about treating me like royalty. He patiently listened to my littany of woes, glanced at my chart, and then remarked, "Excuse me, Madam, but you must consider that at your age, these symptoms could be menopausal."
NO SHIT, SHERLOCK!!! Why is it that young male doctors always go there with their "elderly" female patients?? After all, I do have SOME reason to suspect something else could be going on. I've been battling hot flashes and other symptoms of perimenopause for the past 4 years, and I haven't run to the hospital every time I woke up in a tangle of soggy bedsheets. This feels different.
Now, if all it means is that the pilot light in my fertility oven is about to blow out, I can live with that. But if there's some parasite laying about 50 million larvae in my intestinal lining, I'd prefer to know about it before I wind up as the lead segment on the Discovery Chanel's "Disease Detectives" show or something.
Anyway, after I put the medical whelp in his place, he gave me a thorough exam and ordered all manner of tests. Other than high blood pressure, I appear to be clear, so maybe this is just my reproductive system's death knell. But like I said earlier, I'm looking on the bright side. Better I should be choosing between a treatable tropical disease and official "Barren Womb" status, as opposed to a range of other heinous clinical complications.
Gee, and all this is happening a week before my 47th birthday!
"Umm, excuse me, Higher Power, but based on the past few years, might I request a simple cake, or a few balloons as a birthday present, instead of Byzantine medical drama??? Puh-LEEEEEEZE???"
Sigh. I'll keep you posted....
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