I was at work chit chatting with a young yoga instructor when she asked how old I was. “Thirty Five” the voice in my head said firmly. The voice was wrong, but it had said it so confidently I was taken off guard. I stumbled and hoped it wouldn’t look like I was being all weird about my age. Then I summoned the same confident voice to say out loud the words “thirty nine”. Although I had said the truth it felt like I lied. Plus I am totally weird about my age.
I was diagnosed at 35. Although I have kept living, my life, my beautiful, chaotic, free, silly, innocent life stopped. A part of me remains suspended in time. The passionate girl and the life I knew so well froze the day before I went for that first check up.
The last four years have had their own separate space time continuum. Instead of living, in the way I used to I’ve stoically existed. The last forty seven months have felt like a hundred years of sadness. In this warped universe I am 65, the removal of my ovaries has aged me and my reproductive system is slammed shut. Life has tipped from looking forward hoping for a brighter and better tomorrow to knowing the best is behind me, everything goes downhill from here and if I’m lucky I have old age to look forward to.
Not only are there two sub realities where I feel too young and too old but my literal age also has the same polarity. Right now the NHS deems me young enough at 39 to help me get pregnant but in a few short weeks when I turn 40 I will officially be too old. The time paradoxes are mounting up. I need a DeLorean and Michael J Fox. As a side note I’ve always needed Michael J Fox.
Just like in the movie I’m going to the past to get back to the future. My mode of time travel will be hormones. My 65 year old self is fading as I take little pills that remind me what it feels like to be flirty and hopeful. The hormones are undoing the years of post-menopausal damage to my body. The goal is to retrieve a part of me frozen before my treatment, before I lost my mum, before my world fell apart. A part of me created when I still remembered who I was and dared to hope for better. That part of me who may be the beginning of a whole new person are my nine frozen embryos. Little cells suspended in time who represent everything that is optimistic and hopeful for the future.
One embryo will be placed in me a week before I turn 40.
After all the time traveling I hope to land in the present and with a future plan to say to my little one….
Roads? Where we’re going, we don’t need roads.