I'm so damned hot.

And thanks for nothing, Mayo Clinic. Plus: two recommendations and some shoes.

You might think, given the title of this post, that it’s going to be a self-affirming, foxy-at-f@#$y, hear me roar sort of thing. Like, a post channeling the strange yet badass vibe of this photo I had taken a few weeks ago at the Erma Bombeck Writers’ Workshop while waiting for a writer friend way cooler than me to escape her throngs of admirers.

What even is happening here?

(“So…just you…by yourself?” the photo booth photographer asked. Subtext: You don’t have any friends? “Yes, just me,” I said, picking up a pink inflatable guitar and holding it as if I’d never seen anyone hold a guitar in my life and am not, in fact, married to a folk singer.)

But no, this post is not about me attempting to be foxy at f@#$y using props. It’s about the dumbest, most predictable middle-aged lady thing ever: Vasomotor symptoms. Or as they’re more commonly known, night sweats and hot flashes.

Sweet Jesus. If you have not experienced either of these, let me tell you, they are extremely weird and unpleasant.

I’ve been having night sweats on and off for a few years now, and they basically go like this: I wake up in the middle of the night, and whatever t-shirt or pajama top I’m wearing (always short-sleeved now, even in the dead of winter) is soaked. Sometimes there are actual beads of sweat running down my décolletage.

But do I feel hot? No! Because I am very damp, and therefore I am freezing. So I have to get up and change into dry pajamas in order to avoid succumbing to hypothermia in the comfort of my bedroom. After that, it may take me anywhere from five to seventy-five minutes to fall back asleep, depending on how much the universe hates me that night.

The hot flashes, meanwhile, started up about a year ago, but have gotten markedly worse in the past 2-3 months, I assume as an early birthday gag gift to me from my endocrine system—a self-referential joke about how women in their f@#$ies get hot flashes. (Ha ha!!)

Mostly, they happen in the morning. I’ll be in the kitchen with my coffee and crossword puzzle, or in my office about to start working, when I’m suddenly burning up with a intense, flat, internal heat. I shuck off my bathrobe like it’s silver and I’m a vampire. And then, a few minutes later, I am cold, so I put it back on. This process repeats itself several times.

(Fun aside: I googled “hot flash” to try to find an image for this post, and got this. Note the description. That’s me. Stressed old woman suffer.)

More recently, however, I’ve been getting hot flashes as I’m trying to fall asleep at night. This is a special sort of torture—the kind you might imagine highly intelligent aliens performing using dials and switches and things. My body strobes hot and then not-so-hot, then sort of hot and cold at the same time, and then hot again. I flip the quilt and blankets and sheet off. Then put the blanket and sheet back on. Blanket off but sheet on. One leg out from under sheet, one in. Both out? No, just one. Now both in. Sheet and blanket back on. Quilt back o—NO! Quilt off. Blanket off. Skin off. Help.

The other day, I googled “hot flash treatments,” just in case there was suddenly, magically some new cure available other than hormone replacement therapy (which I don’t think my symptoms are severe enough to warrant) and herbal supplements of questionable efficacy.

I clicked on the Mayo Clinic page that came up in the search, because I figured they would know what they were talking about. I was delighted to see that in addition to info about prescription medications, HRT, and ineffective supplements, there was a whole section on “self-care” to help with hot flashes. Hooray! I thought. Help is on its way.

Except no.

Here was their first recommendation:

• Keep cool. Slight increases in your body's core temperature can trigger hot flashes. Dress in layers so that you can remove clothing when you feel warm.

  Open windows or use a fan or air conditioner. Lower the room temperature, if you can. If you feel a hot flash coming on, sip a cold drink.

Got that? According to one of the top ranked hospitals in the world, if you’re having a hot flash, you should do the things that any human person would do to cool their body when hot.

“FFS, Mayo Clinic.”

They also recommend not smoking (check), not being overweight (check), and avoiding caffeine, alcohol, and anything else that gives you some small solace amidst the relentless despair of the human condition. (Nope.)

Another suggestion: practicing mind-body therapies like meditation, deep breathing and guided imagery. It seems like this gets thrown into basically every health / medical article on the internet, like a little hail Mary: Irritable bowel syndrome? Headaches? Lung cancer? If nothing else works, try mindfulness! One 2012 Finnish study found that people with sclerdoma who meditated for ten minutes every day felt more accepting of the fact that they had sclerdoma. So, you know, give it a shot!

The good news is that the Mayo Clinic says, is that for most women, hot flashes and night sweats only last for 7-10 years. Terrific. Pass me my fan.

To end on a more positive note, here are three things that are making me happy right now. (Should this be a regular feature in this newsletter? Maybe it will be a regular feature.)

I don’t know about you, but my heart is feeling awfully heavy with everything that’s happening in the world—from Gaza to Ukraine to American college campuses to the Supreme Court—so I’m more grateful than ever for the little things that offer a little bit of reprieve. Such as…

1. This book.

Wouldn’t a mental vacation to Sicily be nice right about now? Hell yes it would. The Sicilian Inheritance by Jo Piazza (whose Substack you should read) will take you there. This book has everything: food, sex, secrets, lies, hot men, hot sun, and two fierce female narrators in two different time periods who push back against societal expectations. It goes down easy as an Aperol spritz. (And has a gorgeous cover, to boot.)

2. Aubrey Hirsch’s Substack

I adore writer and comic artist Aubrey Hirsch’s Substack, Graphic Rage, where she shares comics and thoughts on culture, politics, feminism, etc. Her latest comic, about how she stopped trying to be the “perfect patient” at the doctor’s office, really spoke to me.

From Aubrey’ Hirsch’s Graphic Rage

3. My new shoes.

Back in December, my Christmas shopping brought me to J.Crew, in search of a good sweater for the mister. I did not find one. But I did find an amazing pair of retro-ish silver heels that I fell completely in love with. They were on sale for $134, which, I know, is not exactly a bargain. Nevertheless, I decided to splurge. A few days later, though, looking at our very anemic checking account balance (2023 was a really bad year for my business), I decided to return them.

But I never forgot them.

Then, last week, as I was getting dressed for an event, I thought those silver shoes would have really kicked ass with this outfit. On a lark, I checked the J.Crew website the next day. And guess what: the shoes were still available (four months later!), in my size, on final sale for $54.

I could say that the moral of this story is good things come to those who wait. But really, it’s paying full price at chain clothing stores is for suckers.

I love you.

I hope you’re finding some things that bring you joy, too.

All posts on Jane’s Calamity are free and publicly available, but writing is how I make my living. If you enjoy my work, please consider buying my book (below) or upgrading to a paid subscription so I can stock up on fans to use for the next 7-10 years, as recommended by the Mayo Clinic..