I thought my body was punishing me.
I'm 51. I had my hysterectomy and within ten days the version of me I'd known for fifty-one years was just gone. The hot flashes started first. Eight, ten of them a day, in meetings, in line at the grocery store, at 3 AM in soaked sheets. Then the weight gain. Twelve pounds in three weeks without changing a thing about how I ate.
The brain fog was the part that scared me. I forgot my best friend's name in the middle of telling a story about her. Not the kind of "what was I saying" you laugh off. The kind where you stop in the middle of a sentence and the word just isn't there. I was 51, not 81.
Then the heart flutters started. Out of nowhere, sitting on the couch, my heart would take off, pounding for thirty seconds, sometimes a full minute, then drop back. The first time I drove myself to the ER at 11 PM. They ran the EKG, the bloodwork, the chest X-ray. Everything came back clean. The doctor said the words I'd hear again two weeks later: "You're fine. Probably anxiety."
The next month I was back in the ER for the same thing. Same workup. Same words. I went home in soaked clothes feeling crazy, and slowly started to wonder if the problem really was just me.
I told myself I was being dramatic. I wasn't. My body had lost something overnight that it needed to function, and nobody told me how to give it back.


