Thanks (for the last time)

Dear Reader, If you’re squeamish or don’t like to read about menstrual cycles, periods, or Aunt Flo, you may want to skip this post.

Dear Period,

I just want to thank you for being there for me one more time. Oh, that’s right, this might be the last time, you know, so I appreciate how you’ve been present with (“super plus”-worthy) gusto this week. It’s hard to believe you and I have been together for more than 27 years, and that – NOW – we have to say goodbye.

Month after month, you’re there. A reminder that my body is working properly. That it’s been almost 30 days since the last time I saw you. It’s a cue to mentally review what bills I paid this month, to know that payday is coming soon, and to find my birth control pills for next month. (Oh, and during the college years, you were the “medical reason” insurance covered that prescription AND why my dad was okay with me “being on the pill,” so thanks for that, too.)

I’m torn. The security you bring when you arrive is fantastic. “You’re here! Great, I’m not pregnant!”

But you can also be a total drag. You’ve come at really bad times (hello, honeymoon). And really good times – “You’re not here? Great, I AM pregnant!” You’re how I knew I was carrying a baby in my uterus before any test could prove it – twice.

You see, I can almost set my watch and calendar by you. That’s how ridiculously consistent you’ve been, old friend. Like clockwork. No surprises.

And now we’ll be saying goodbye. Oh, it’s not that I want to. This ending comes much earlier than I anticipated. I really thought we’d have another 10 or 15 years together, at least. I even bought the jumbo box of tampons last month, never thinking we’d NOT be together. That’s commitment, that Costco-sized box in my bathroom.

But the chemo will take you away from me. Since I’m over 40, I’ve been told you’ll most likely be gone forever. How will I know it’s been a month? How will I know I’m not pregnant? How will I remember to pay my cell phone bill or mortgage (both due mid-flow)?

And of course, losing you comes with other consequences, other “stuff” I’m just not ready for – hot flashes, emotional rollercoasters, vaginal dryness. (I can’t even… Typing that last one sounds so… granny-ish.)

It’s almost like you knew this might be our last time together. You came in so quietly and sweetly, like “knock, knock, anyone home?” but woo-diggity, you made up for it after a few days. Crampiness, heaviness, fatigue – see, that’s the stuff that I won’t miss. You really could have done without going there. Seriously.

You’ll be with me another day or so, then you’ll slip away. Quietly, I hope. We may never be with one another again, you and I. But I’ll remember you.

Or not…since there won’t be a physical reminder, other than that big box of tampons, next month…

(Damn, what am I going to do with all those leftover tampons?)

Love,

Jax XO

One thought on “Thanks (for the last time)

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