et’s make a long story short, which honestly, is my least favorite way of doing things. I like backstory. I like a solid three-paragraph setup before I even get to the point. But I’m old and tired, so here we are.

I had an event on Friday night. I had work on Friday morning. I weighed my options and opted to have my hair done for said event instead of showing up for my work duties. This felt reasonable to me. The event required me to look alive. Work has seen me look alive before and would simply have to trust that I still was.

I sat down in the chair, ready to be pampered with a style and blowout, as the cute little stylist walked over and started running her fingers through my admittedly thinning hair. Before I could even catch my breath, I heard her sigh. Peeps, it was a sigh that carried the weight of what she was about to say, when and she looked at me and said, “They call it cougar puberty for a reason.”

And that’s why I must keep this story short. At that exact moment, life left my body. I keeled over, only to be buried under the disregarded hair clippings of all the young women who willy nilly chop off their perfectly thick, lustrous, unfair hair like it means nothing. They have so much of it. Must be nice. I wouldn’t know anymore.

At some point I was brought back to life, presumably because someone needed the chair. I realized I had to make some choices. I headed to my doctor for some blood work. My doctor got the result and then looked me dead in the eye and said he didn’t believe I was in perimenopause.

I appreciated his confidence. I did not share it. I was determined one of us needed to do something about it, and I guessed it was going to be the one of us who was sweating through her sheets at 3 a.m. No, this isn’t on brand for a woman whose follow-through has left the building in every other area of life.

Hand on a bible, my 12-year-old cat moved next door because my neighbor operates on a better feeding schedule than I could possibly remember.

But apparently, I still have one single iota of care left in this body, and I am using it for this. This is it. This is where I spend it.

I took to the Internet like a capable, intelligent adult woman who has successfully kept three humans alive for decades and is used to solving her own problems. That’s how I found SALT. Hydration & Wellness, a mobile IV therapy company that will send a registered nurse directly to your location. Be it your home, your hotel, or, as in my case, your office.

Lori Schmalz showed up, took one look at my labs, and said to me, “You know a ferritin level of 8 isn’t normal, right?”

I did not know that. No one had ever mentioned that. Lori mentioned it, because Lori came to my office with answers and an IV bag and a no-nonsense energy I deeply respect.

I sat in a meeting with the Idaho Falls Arts Council leadership team while I received my IV. I want to be clear that I was fully present and engaged in the discussion of the 2026-2027 season. I may have also been attached to a bag of iron the entire time. Some of the leadership team looked a little squeamish about the medical equipment. I found this interesting, as these are people who regularly champion the arts, and I personally felt I was giving a compelling live performance. You’re welcome, Arts Council.

Before she left, Lori handed me a brochure that said, “Empowering individuals to achieve optimal health and vitality in the comfort of their own homes.” And I want you to know that I have never, in all my years of reading words, felt more understood by a sentence. Visit salthydrationandwellness.com for more information.