My 4-year old granddaughter spent the weekend with me. As I sit here on Monday morning, I can only lament, "my gynecologist was right." A few years back, I had an ultrasound of my female-ness. She announced, "Your ovaries are shriveled." When she saw the look on my face, she added, "...as they should be." In my mind, I pictured what was once a plump, juicy grape, now a raisin. But it wasn't just a raisin. It was a raisin left on the vine, trying to soak up the sun for a season that would never come. It was a dried up, brittle raisin. I went into the appointment knowing I was in menopause, I left feeling kind of sad and a little angry at the adjective she'd chosen to use, "shriveled." Nobody wants anything on/in their body shriveled, no matter what time of life it is for them. Every friend I told the story to was appalled that "shriveled" was the word of choice by my doctor.
This is a companion discussion topic for the original entry at https://www.caregiving.com/posts/hooray-for-shriveled-ovaries