According to research, two in five of us find it too awkward to talk to our partners about sex, so I love to normalize the conversation from the stage. It’s a great start to encouraging more healthy one-on-one interactions at home.
As a doctor, I love to talk about sex with my audiences because people have an edge-of-your-seat curiosity, but they have a back-of-your-seat aversion to broaching the subject. I revel in challenging people’s discomfort and opening them up to healthy conversations.
The two things I enjoy more than talking about sex with an audience is finding the humor in it or having it myself. Everybody loves to laugh, and laughing about sex helps people release any potential tension they might have about the topic. Everyone should also love to have it, but I know sometimes they don’t.
Sexual health is vital to my sense of personal happiness and fulfillment. People with a healthy sex life take fewer sick days, and I’m living proof. I’ve only taken one sick day in twenty-five years so, clearly, having sex has contributed to my own immune system. We also experience lower blood pressure, thanks to a healthy sex life; mine is 112/72 mmHg. Normal ranges are between 90/60 and 120/80 mmHg.
Other benefits that won’t come as a surprise are improved self-esteem and better sleep. For instance, I can sleep through my boyfriend’s coughing, and if it weren’t for my Life360 family tracking app, I wouldn’t know my boys are sneaking out of the house at night.
Sex activates a variety of neurotransmitters that positively impact our brains and other organs in our bodies. Those perks sound great, right? And I love to stimulate my dopamine levels without the use of prescription meds or something illegal.
What happens when something so essential to your personal fulfillment is disrupted by your physical or mental well-being? Ten years ago, I discovered a lump in my neck, and eventually the biopsy confirmed that I had Hodgkin’s lymphoma.
My attitude toward sex was put to the test. Could I still feel sexy enough to get naked and let someone else be naked with me? Chemo threw me into menopause, so I experienced changes consistent with that phase in life—hormone levels fluctuated, and arousal and sex took longer. How was I supposed to get the laundry done, dinner on the table, and have sex if I had to add an additional fifteen minutes to that activity?
Walking through cancer meant that I had to change my playbook and open myself up to redefining what might feel good and give myself some latitude. What normally made me feel sexy and attractive wasn’t always working. I had to focus on what emotionally played into my desire in the moment. Spontaneity had to become my aphrodisiac.
Desire and foreplay – Normally, desire comes from within because we wear a scent or something that makes us feel attractive or practice self-care like treating ourselves to a mani-pedi (men get them too!). Readiness also surfaces from our partners who express interest or talk to us in a way that’s compatible with being in the mood. Either way, you have to honor what’s comfortable for you.
On the days that I had chemo treatments, I used cold caps to freeze my head to a negative thirty-two degrees. This would prevent my hair from falling out. While that worked, it didn’t make for a do-I-look-ready-for-sex look. My head was encased in a royal blue cap akin to what the old-fashioned football helmets looked like, except my cap wasn’t in brown leather, thank G-d. Though leather, and I think a red hair wig, would have turned on my partner more.
Plus, can you imagine—the poor guy goes in for the kiss and grabs my face, which is now ice cold, and then he reaches for himself only to lose the mood because his hand has just been on my face? Have you ever had intercourse when your partner is cold? Those of us who live in chilly climates know what I’m talking about. It is not a productive environment.
Any kind of advance planning and date night anticipation went out the window because they could easily be thwarted by a bad reaction to treatments or fatigue creeping up unexpectedly. This also put a damper on sex as I love knowing that after a great night out, we might end up having some fun in bed—assuming neither of us hadn’t had too much to drink and it wasn’t after midnight. Sleep is a priority after certain hours, especially when I was having treatments.
The slow burn, selfies, and quickies – During chemo, if anticipation of sex and foreplay sometimes felt like too much effort, I would take advantage of higher-energy days or oftentimes just moments. If brief encounters still sounded like a tall order, I would either pleasure myself or not engage at all. I was never taught that masturbation was wrong or evil, thank goodness. I also shared with my kids when they were young that it’s normal to explore your own body and not feel shame.
And, you don’t have to say, “Not so rough, or move slower, or please stay there for the rest of my life because it feels so good.” You are in control of all of that. Either way, be sure to talk about it with your partner so they understand your choice is not personal; it’s about preserving your sexual identity during chemo chaos.
I have a fabulous partner who listens to me and wants to know what feels good to me. And depending on the day, my answer can change. Don’t make your partner guess; it sets them up for failure. And just because I was going though chemo didn’t mean it was all about me. I listened to him and asked questions, too.
Tune in next month for part two of this blog when I’ll talk more about intimacy, getting naked, and the importance of your sense of self.
Be positively altered,
Dr. Cindy
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