Old People Shit: Menopause, Being Childless, and PFPT

Hi again! Did you miss the old people shit? Fear not, it's the gift that keeps on giving! 

Last time I talked about menopause and weight gain. Another charming side effect of menopause is that, when the estrogen levels go down the likelihood that you’ll pee when you sneeze goes way up.

I didn't invent the word, but I like it.

Since I don’t have kids, I thought I might get lucky and stay firm down there. Turns out Mother Nature doesn’t seem to care much for non-breeders. So even though I never bowled down that particular alley and loosened things up, she decided I wasn’t going to get a pass after all. I did my Kegels like a good doobie, to try and keep things in shape, but it wasn’t enough, so I finally talked to my doctor and she sent me for pelvic floor physical therapy.

Now, if you’re unfamiliar with pelvic floor physical therapy--but you have an image in your head right now--you’re probably on the right track.

I was led into a small room, the door was closed, and I was directed to undress from the waist down and lie down on the table. And yes, the table had stirrups. And yes, my feet went into them. Then a young woman came in snapping on rubber gloves, and she began to put me through my paces. I felt like a finger puppet in a children’s show from hell. This happened three times a week for several weeks.

Wrong kind of stirrups, but the position looks right.

I’m happy to report that after completing my regimen I could sneeze without peeing (most of the time), and I could also walk down the middle of a busy road during rush hour pantsless because that’s how much personal dignity I had left. 

I didn’t want kids for a variety of reasons, so it just never happened. Every once in awhile, if I get a pang of “what if”, all I have to do is turn on Dr. Fuckin’ Phil and see some psycho kid cornering their parents in the bedroom with a butcher knife, or a teenager running wild on the streets drinking, smoking, snorting, popping and screwing everything in sight, and my poor uterus that hung its Gone Out of Business sign a decade ago still tries to crawl up under my ribcage and hide. I swear if I was still fertile, my tubes would tie themselves.