Help! I Think I'm a Vampire! - Menopause Humor.
A new way to read your favorite novels.
I've been transformed
I seriously believe I’ve been transformed from a normal human, into a dark vampiristic monster. I don’t know when, nor how this happened. There was no cloaked figure looming about in the shadows of my bedroom, no hypnotizing eyes beckoning me into a foggy mist and no blood loss, as far as I can tell. No, my symptoms are much more complicated, but convincing, none-the-less.
I began to notice the transformation a few years ago when occasionally, sleep became optional for me. Several nights I found myself roaming through the house while my family slept; peering through the curtains at the stillness of the night and reading novels that were guaranteed by the local librarian, as the cure for insomnia. I even found myself searching through the cabinets and refrigerator for snacks, even though I wasn’t the slightest bit hungry. This would occur for a few days here and there, but gradually the sleepless nights became more frequent.
Daytime began to be almost unbearable. I would finally fall into a shallow slumber in the early morning hours, just in time to be awakened by the alarm clock. I had to get up. I had to go to work. I could not chance that anyone - family, friends, or colleagues - guess my horrible secret. I would embrace the day full of the awful ache of sleep deprivation. I did not react to the daylight in the traditional way of the vampire. No, my skin did not burn or turn to ash, nor did I sparkle with a brilliant beauty. As a matter of fact, there was no noticeable reaction at all; for which I was grateful.
However, as the days and weeks painfully dragged by, I noticed black circles and saggy bags under my eyes. Surely this would be a “dead ” give away. But no one seemed to notice and the sleepless nights continued to haunt me. When I did sleep, I woke up frequently sweating and totally consumed with fear.
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A new symptom was creeping up on me.
Now, a new symptom was creeping up on me. Cravings! Just as my nocturnal ancestors craved blood, I had cravings too. I did not crave blood, no, something worse, more sinister than blood. I craved “chocolate !” Any kind of chocolate; all things chocolate! I would search the cabinets hoping to find a missing bag of half used chocolate chips hiding in a dark corner. Even if there were only a handful left, I would gobble them down like a starving orphan.
I would dig through the freezer in search of lost ice cream treats, or through kitchen drawers looking for forgotten Christmas or Easter candy - in the middle of August ! I was tortured by my burning desire for chocolate.
In the rare occasions I could not find anything to satisfy my lustful cravings, I became moody, angry and unapproachable. My family and friends quickly learned to stay away from me during these times. Sometimes they would bring offerings of chocolate in the hope of calming the beast that raged inside of me. I hated myself and what I had become.
One morning, after yet another sleepless night, I looked into the mirror and to my horror I saw course, black, wild hair growing from my chin. I screeched an unholy cry, was I now to become a werewolf? How could that be!? My husband came running into the bathroom where I stood sobbing. The pain on his face was more than I could take, something had to be done; but what?
I stopped in horror, and then shook my head in denial.
After becoming worried about me, a good friend referred me to her doctor. She assured me that he would know how to help. A few days later, and with some reservation, I made an appointment to see him. His office was very inviting, decorated in muted tones, not too bright, but not dark either. The nurse at the front desk did not look at me as if I were some kind of strange mutation of nature, but was welcoming and friendly. The wait was short, which was good, as I had no time to consider escape. Another kind and gentle nurse took my vitals. I wondered if these women would remain so sweet and unafraid if they knew what I really was.
I was led into an examination room where I waited to see the doctor. My mind began to wonder as I looked at all the shining instruments sitting neatly on the counter. What kind of an examination would a doctor give a vampire? He had a lot of silver items on that counter. Was that it? Would he simply use one of those things to . . . The doctor came in before I could finish my thought, and for that I was grateful.
“Let’s see,” he began. “You are having some trouble with sleeping, cravings, and mood swings?” he asked as he read my chart like a recipe.
“And strange hair growing on my chin,” I added in a shaky, girlish voice.
He bent toward me, looked at my chin through half glasses that sat perched on the end of his nose, straightened up, took a pen from his pocket, and jotted another entry into my chart.
“Well now,” he said smiling, “I think I know what you are experiencing and why, and I think I know how to help you.”
I didn’t know if I should be reassured or terrified. Did this mean he knew about vampires, because he himself shared in this fate? Or was he good at quickly driving a stake through a vampire’s heart before they knew what hit them?
“We’ll draw blood and run a few tests, but I feel certain some of these symptoms, if not all of them, can be alleviated.” He wrote on a small white pad quickly and handed me several of the small sheets as he tore them off.
“How can you help me?” I blurted out. I couldn’t contain myself anymore. Was I to be slowly poisoned or had society and modern medicine found a cure for vampirism?
He peered up at me over his glasses, a puzzled look on his face, and then began to talk to me as though I was a school girl, or some escapee from the nursing home.
“You see,” he began slowly and deliberately, “you have hit fifty, so your body is changing because you are going through menopause. All of these symptoms are common because the levels of hormones are changing in your body. With some simple hormone replacement therapy and something to help you sleep you will be feeling like yourself again in no time.”
“So I’m not a. . . ,” I stopped abruptly, realizing that if I told him what I truly thought had been happening to me, he might write another prescription for me, or worse yet, call the guys in the white coats.
I left the doctor’s office that day with a spring in my step, and a light heart. Perhaps tonight, I would sleep. The dark circles and bags under my eyes would slowly disappear with time, and plenty of anti-aging cream. The hair on my chin, well, that was nothing the tweezers couldn‘t take care of. One thing I was more confident about now was that I was not turning into a vampire. I was still me, and that gave me some comfort that I had not experienced in quite some time.
A smile spread across my face as I walked toward my car. The sun felt good on my skin, but as I looked down at my arm I thought I noticed the smallest hint of a glimmer. I stopped in horror, and then shook my head in denial. It was just my imagination. I slid into the driver’s seat and looked around thinking, “Now where did I see that chocolate shop ?”
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