I firmly believe there is a direct connection between hot flashes and spontaneous human combustion. One night, my darling husband, Steve, will wake to find he is sharing his bed with a leg. Just a leg. That’s all that will be left of me.

Twenty years ago I was in complete control of my body. It did what I told it to do. If I wanted to sit, I sat. If I wanted to stand, I stood.  If I wanted to walk, I tripped.  (Okay, so I wasn’t in complete control). Nowadays, however, my body tells ME what to do. Like I’ve been abducted by alien puppeteers.

Twenty years ago if I hit my shin on the table, it bruised and then healed. Now, I can skip that pesky smacking of the shin and lovely greenish-purple bruise will still magically appear. JUST BY THINKING ABOUT IT!

Twenty years ago if I was cold, I put on a sweater and was instantly warmer. And, in reverse, if I was warm, I could stick a leg out from under the blankets and be instantly cooler. At this stage of the game, cooling off is considerably more difficult. It may even be easier to rebuild the polar ice caps than to ease the incessant burn of my “power surges”. Last night I tried to origami myself into the freezer. I suppose it would have been easier if we had a chest-type freezer – but no…..we have a side-by-side! On the up side, I could cool one whole half of me at a time.

Thinking back, I would never have guessed the first part of me to rebel would be my uterus. I mean, really, it’s not like I abused it.My first guess would have been my liver, but that’s a whole ‘nother post.

So for the time being, I will suffer (loudly) through these horrid bouts of heat. I will change soggy pillow cases at 3:00am. I will be grateful that it’s winter. And if I do happen to spontaneously combust, I will have to teach myself to type with the toes of my one remaining leg.