Reading “A really good day” by Ayelet Waldman — specifically, the part where she talks about finally being diagnosed with PMS after years of thinking she was bipolar and taking a shit-ton of various pharmaceuticals to prevent the dark side — to basically discover there’s only a couple of options (hormones vs. SSRIs) while as many as 80% of all ovulating women experience PMS; 19% have symptoms serious enough to interfere with their lives — can you imagine if there was a condition affecting 80% of men? 20% of men, badly?
I remember vividly how when I was late in my first pregnancy, I was going to the yoga classes, to get some exercise but also to listen — because the class (pre-pandemic! oh how I miss those times) would always start with ppl going around the room, saying how far along they were, what their physical challenge this week was, etc. It was precious: a community of ppl in the same boat, shared experience. Anyhow, once a ~36w pregnant lady shared that when she tried to get up from a laying position, she felt like a knife(!) was cutting her ab muscles(!!) upward and she even heard the sound of abs separating(!!!). While I was gawking at her, in shock, trying to imagine when I would start feeling that, she quickly added, apologetically, responding to that hanging silence of “what the fuuu” in the air — “oh, it’s not that bad, I could still manage the pain.”
Can you imagine your abs separating? With an audible sound? And then you would chalk it up to “well, what can you do, that’s what my body is doing right now.”
I’m yet to read “Unwell Women” by Elinor Cleghorn that I hogged in my Kindle library — but I’m already guessing what I will read there.