CAREFREE TIMES

“Your haemoglobin levels are at 5.8! How are you even walking?” The doctor looked at me as though I was a specimen under a microscope, which I probably was, given that the normal Hb levels for a human being range from 9 to 14, or so.

            Very Well Health

   I had to wax eloquent on my menstrual history from when I was eleven, when mom told me all about periods and what I would have to expect. Of course, the deluge started at a time when I least expected it. I was travelling by train with a rather conservative uncle and aunt. The result was downright embarrassing, and I got out, red-faced, and unwilling to ever talk about it. Till now!               

Those were the days when women were expected to be Carefree without Whisper.  When friends doubled over with cramps and moaned that their world was coming to an end, I waltzed about, wondering what all the fuss was about. Mom had definite views on everything in life, including pain management. (She still does! Ask anyone who knows her!) Her stock response to every kind of ache was, “It’s all in the mind. Get over it!”

So, as children, my sisters and I grew up without a thermometer in the house. We popped no pills and played riotously in the sunshine for our share of Vitamin D. Colds, fevers and stomach upsets vanished because they were ignored. After my initiation into the menstrual cycle, I decided to explain it all to my younger sister, who is seven years younger than me. To date, she tells me that I did a masterly job of it.

                                                                                        

  Q1 Medical

However, criminal as it may sound, we both forgot that there was a little one, our youngest sister, who was ten years younger than me. I had moved into college and was on the verge of getting married. My second sister was busy with school, examinations, peer pressure and stuff like that. Hence, the valuable lode of information that should have been passed down stayed within our minds. Till the day the little one came rushing in, as pale as pale could be, exclaiming, “I think I am going to die. So much blood!”

We never forgave ourselves for the lapse, and the little one kept reminding us every month. “It’s here again!”

Years went by, I ‘Whispered’ through life, had an adorable baby girl. When she was around seven, the bubble burst. My periods, painless and bearable till then, suddenly began showing their true colours. They would continue for fifteen days, sometimes longer, and it was then that I realized that like in the case of all families, I too had been handed down my share of heirlooms. Fibroids. Around three of them! When I dug around in the annals of our menstrual history, I found that every generation had had its share of fibroids, starting with my grand aunts, grandmother, mother and now me and my daughter too.

As an Army wife, we had been posted to Ambala and were staying in a room in the Officers’ Mess. When I look back, those were bloody days, as I bled, changed, washed sheets, and then the whole cycle would begin again. My Hb levels dipped, and that is when the doctor called me a walking miracle and ordered a blood transfusion. Those were the days when O+ blood was considered a universal donor and my husband cheerfully lent me some of his blood, to add on to B+, an axiom I have always followed in life. (Be positive!)

It was now hysterectomy time. I was in my mid-30s and it was time to bid adieu to my periods, and my uterus. There were gory tales about how I would react after my uterus had been removed. Maybe you will sprout a beard, said one well-meaning uncle; oh, you will put on weight for sure, said a svelte cousin. Mood swings, hysterics, hormonal issues and terrible times ahead… the future looked rather bleak.

Of course, Mom swept in with her irrepressible logic. She looked at me with a gimlet glint in her eye and said, “Stop listening to all those rays of sunshine! This is not the end of the world. Take it in your stride. It’s all in your mind.”

Those words rang true, my hysterectomy was done, and I rested till I healed. Neither did I sprout a beard, nor did I have mood swings. A little weight just meant that there was more of me to love. I did not miss having periods… in fact, I rejoiced at not having to shell out exorbitant sums of money on sanitary pads anymore. And what was more, my sense of humour, another family heirloom, was still intact!

Several myths have been built up around this simple biological function called menstruation. Even today, in many households, women are not allowed to be in the kitchen and visit temples because of the mistaken notion that they are ‘unclean’ during those days. How many of us realise that in days of yore, it was maybe because women needed a rest when they had their periods. Hence, they were given a break from cooking and related home chores.

The movie Padman revolved around the story of Arunachalam Muruganantham, a pioneer who resolved the hygiene issues of rural women by creating a low-cost sanitary pad. A simple man, he had the sensitivity to visualise the problems of menstruation and strove to do something about it.

                                                                                                    Times of India

 It is time that we did away with the taboos connected with menstruation and ensured that every girl is taught about the biological processes that turn her from child to adult. There is no harm in boys being educated about it as well. Mothers, of course, are the best teachers, in this regard, and they can choose to make the said process an ordeal or a norm for their daughters. Barring this, schools also need to teach menstruation as a subject so that students grow aware of its significance.   

 In a nutshell, be Period Positive. Period!

  
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