From Chicken Soup for the Soul in Menopause

To Fan or Not to Fan

Many a small thing has been made large by the right kind of advertising.

Mark Twain

It started again when my husband was in the living room watching television, his favorite pastime. That warm feeling was coming back, from head to toe. I thought, Oh no, not again!

The sweat rolled down my armpits, then my forehead. I went from warm to 1,000 degrees in seconds. It was so hot that I stripped off my soaked blouse just to try and cool down. That did little good, so I proceeded to take off the rest of my clothes. I frantically looked for the fan and realized it was in the living room, and so was my husband!

Up to this point I had been having a few episodes of hot flashes, but they hadn’t been so bad that my husband had yet noticed. But this episode was a really bad one, and I just had to get to that fan. Frantic, I streaked into the living room, in between my husband and his beloved television, yelling “Hot! Hot!” I felt a sudden wave of cool relief as the fan sweep across my face and upper body—I was in hot-flash heaven. But when I turned around, to my surprise I found my husband standing in his undies! “What do you think you’re doing?” I asked.

“You yelled ‘hot!’ and I thought you wanted me to play fireman!” was his answer.

I know he was trying to be romantic, but I just started laughing. He looked puzzled. I then explained to him I was going through “the change.” We went out that very day and bought a fan for every room in the house so there would never be another confused signal.

Husbands? Ya gotta love ’em!

Ginger Kenchel

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