Let’s discuss something women never really talk about. Let me be
the one to open up and make myself vulnerable on the interwebs. Let’s talk for
a moment about the effects of stress on the body.
First, a recap: In the past year, we’ve worked through treatment
for K’s OCD, I wrote and won a grant, I spent two solid months spending most of
my time in a hospice facility with my grandfather, and then there was Ant. Oh,
did I not tell you about Ant? And how he broke his arm? Let’s follow that
tangent for a moment…
I was out of town at a work conference when I got the call—the call
from school that every parent dreads. “Sarah, we know you’re out of town. We
cannot get a hold of J. We need you to call him right now. Ant fell on the
playground, and they’re stabilizing him now, but we’re fairly certain he broke
his arm.”
I got back into town that day in time to meet the docs who had
taken three series of x-rays of my son’s shoulder and arm, and given him the
pain medication that made him even more philosophical than he already is. An
example:
Me: Ant! What happened to you, kid?
Ant: I don’t really remember. There are many things I don’t
remember… perhaps we’re not meant to remember everything in life!
Me: Wow. Okay.
J: He did NOT hit his head. They gave him something for the pain.
Me: Ant, they said you fell down?
Ant: Ah, yes. I’m not sure what happened. I remember sitting up,
realizing I landed in a mud puddle, and that I had lost my shoes…
The long and the short of it was this—Ant separated his humorous
at the growth plate between the long part of the bone and the ball joint for
the shoulder. This, and he’d also partially dislocated his shoulder. Because my
kid is a badass, when he sat up and realized something was wrong with his arm,
he apparently grabbed it and pulled it toward him just right—relocating his
shoulder. Yes, let me repeat: Ant relocated his own shoulder…
Ah, but the shoulder (which is healing nicely, and in a manner
consistent to Wolverine from the X-Men, according to the lovely orthopedic Ant’s
seen) is not the only scare Ant’s given us. Last weekend it became apparent
that the nasty little summer cold Ant got on Thursday was not just a cold.
After battling a high fever on Saturday night, I took him to urgent care, where
he was diagnosed with strep, a sinus infection, AND a middle ear infection.
Then, to make matters worse, Ant decided to be allergic to the antibiotics he
was prescribed, meaning that we got to visit urgent care more than once on
Sunday…
And… did I mention we’re selling a place, and looking to buy
another? By the time school starts in August?
So, as you can imagine, there’s been a little bit of stress in
this household right now. At first this presented with insomnia. I dismissed it—I’d
completely messed up my sleep schedule. Then my teeth started to hurt. Okay,
perhaps I was grinding them again, in my sleep. And I had missed my dental
checkup with my grandfather being ill. And I have sensitive teeth to begin
with.
Then I realized I was drinking too much coffee and not enough
water. Then I realized I needed to start taking my vitamins again. Then I realized
I needed to start my regular exercise routine back up. If there’s one thing I’ve
learned from the small town doctor I had while growing up, it’s that water,
exercise, and a Flintstones can cure many an ill. Perhaps that would fix my new
breakouts. And my sore muscles. And the changes I’d noticed in my, you know, ‘cycle’…
And then, all of my excuses came crashing down when I noticed my
hair.
At first, I noticed the hair at my temples seemed to be thinner. Not
much thinner, but thinner, nonetheless. Okay, well, when one lives in a hospital
setting, one tends to pull their hair into a ponytail every day. I just needed
to be more careful… Then, this week, I noticed I had a spot on the top part of
my head. I was going bald.
A note from J: He would like me to express that my definition of
going bald more closely matches the definition the general public would have of
a spot near the crown of my head where my hair is slightly thinner, and my part
seems just a tad bit larger than normal, and that 99% of the population would
not even notice such a thing on their own head, much less someone else’s. While
my rational brain says, “Yes, I understand that I’m the only person noticing
this,” my emotional brain says, “Oh. My. God. I am losing my hair! Will J still
love me when I’m bald???”
So, since it was evening, and doctor’s tend to frown when you call
them at ten at night, I Dr. Googled that shit. Come to find out, I could have a
hormone or thyroid imbalance (which I’ll certainly get checked out), but the
more likely culprit is that I’ve had significant stress within the past six
months that’s taxed my system.
Oh. So it is stress. Huh. I guess I have to admit it now.
Women do not like to talk about these things. We don’t even like
to think about them. Long, lustrous hair and a clear complexion and a
physically toned body reaches out and smacks us in the face every time we look
at a magazine, watch TV, or see a movie. Everyone looks as if they’re 24,
and if you don’t, there’s something wrong with you.
Yet, these things happen. They happen to a lot of us. The
hair-thinning thing? Dr. Google says that will happen to half of us by the time
we’re 50, and then it seems it’ll happen to the other half of us in our 50s and
60s. The breakout thing? Well, that happens to a whole bunch of us as well.
Look at all the items one can buy in the health and beauty section of any
store. And don’t even get me started on the lines I’m noticing on my forehead…
Or the grays. Or my eyelashes. Or the 13 pounds I’ve gained in the past year. Or
how one’s body hurts when they’re under a whole bunch of stress.
I think we need to get real about this: the hair thinning thing,
but more generally, the changes that happen to us women in our 30s, 40s, and
beyond. The changes that are natural, the ones that can be caused by stress or
fatigue, and the ones that certainly need to get checked out. So, here I am,
with a spot right smack in the middle of my forehead that I’m certain will be a
monstrous pimple by the weekend, a “balding” pate, and a giant bottle of water
that I hope will fix it all. And I’m telling you all about it on the internet,
so that if you have to Google something along these lines, you’ll feel just a
little less alone.
