Thursday, June 04, 2009

If it were at all possible for me...

...to be a man for a day, I would grab the chance.

I would certainly love to know how it is to be told something and not understand what the fuss is all about, while all the women around know exactly what's going on and are already analyzing the situation and offering theories or suggestions. No way is this an attempt to ridicule the tendency of most men to be clueless about things (or basically, their lack of intuition) because, after all, each gender has specific strengths and weaknesses.

Looks like one man had a chance to be in the shoes of a woman -- and the experience opened his eyes to a lot of things!

My Brief Life as a Woman

Dana JenningsDana Jennings. (Lonnie Schlein/The New York Times)

As my wife and I sat on the couch one night this past winter, reading and half-watching the inevitable HGTV, I started sweating hard and my face got so fevered and flushed that I felt as if I were peering into an oven.


I turned to Deb and said, “Man, I’m having a wicked hot flash.” And she said, “Me, too.” Then we laughed. You laugh a lot — unless your hormones are making you cry — when you’re having menopause with your wife.


I was in the middle of treatment for an aggressive case of prostate cancer last winter, and it included a six-month course of hormone therapy. My Lupron shots suppressed testosterone, which is the fuel for prostate cancer.


When your testosterone is being throttled, there are bound to be side effects. So, with the help of Lupron, I spent a few months aboard the Good Ship Menopause with all the physical baggage that entails. It’s a trip that most men don’t expect to take.


The side effect that surprised me most were the hot flashes — not that I got them, I was expecting that, but by how intense they were. They often woke me in the middle of the night and made me sweat so much that I drenched the sheets. In midwinter I’d walk our miniature poodle, Bijou, wearing shorts and a T-shirt. I sometimes felt as if Deb could fry eggs on my chest. (It’s also a bit disconcerting when your hot flashes are fiercer than your wife’s.)


When it comes to hot flashes, ladies, I salute you. After my brief dalliance with that hormonal phenomenon, it seems to me it’s an under-reported condition. And it’s certainly under-represented in the arts. Where are the great hot flash novels or movies? How come there’s not a Web site or magazine called “Hot Flash Monthly”?



Full article at The New York Times

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