When my father said, “they put you on birth control at 47?” That should have been my sign things were not going to go well for me this month. By the way I’m not 47, I’m 30-16. I should have gone back to the doctor and said, “my dad said this is not a good idea.” In that moment in time, the understanding why our teenage children did the foolhardy things that drove us crazy came full force. It couldn’t be that bad…
Day one: my sense of smell had always been keen. Apparently estrogen makes it keener and the feathers in my husband’s goose down pillow made his side of the bed smell like a barnyard. It created the proverbial divide.
Day two: my abdomen bloated and that three month pregnant look replaced the usual morning after an hour workout belly. Normally this wouldn’t have been bad, but I did an hour workout the night before. Words not suitable for small children came to the forefront of my mind.
Day three: nauseau, heartburn and big breasts. Too big, they hurt when my husband even thought about looking at them.
Day four:I hate the world, I hate my life, my husband was up there with the antichrist.
Day five: constipation. Really?
Day six: That pillow is getting on my last nerve. I know because it woke me at 2 in the morning. The couch has become my new post 2 a.m. resting area.
Day seven: Why does God hate me?
Day eight: Cramps. Really? The purpose of the pill was to eliminate cramps. And, I’ve gained five pounds.
Day nine: My husband is looking at me from the side of his eyes. Why is he looking at me like that?
Day ten: I am running away from home and never coming back. To be sure, I’m leaving my Iphone so they can’t find me.
And that was the line.
The iphone is my trademark. My friend. It is under my pillow or in my pocket. We are never too far apart. We have worked together to get to level 740 on Candy Crush, use that Instagram filter to make life look beautiful and Google maps has taken us places no atlas would have ever dreamed of going.
Day 11: The pills have to go.
And so I disregarded the warning on the package and stopped without consulting my physician. Clearly the insanity plea would work. Insanity does not preclude one from experiencing the first law of physics: Every action has an equal and opposite reaction. Except the pendulum had swung so far in one direction the swingback was quicker than the descent. All the negative side effects became overly positive. Let’s just say constipation, bloating and strong anger were nothing compared to what happened next.
Wide eyed in shock I did the only thing I could do. Cried, hid under a blanket and called my father. Three years ago his diabetes medication went wrong and it took three months of assisted care living to get him back to normal. If anyone would appreciate the humility of the body trying to get right it was him. And he didn’t say I told you so. He did laugh and console me with his experiences. I hung up the phone still green in the gills, but feeling better about the situation. Except for the one thing lurking in the back of my mind. I still have to go back to the doctor. I wonder if Dad would want to come via speakerphone?