Don’t Kill the Husband

I’m going to see my consultant tomorrow to discuss HRT yet again. I’m not feeling very hopeful.

I’ve spent the weekend researching as much as I can about hormone replacement therapy.

I’m suffering. I know other women are suffering too. I’m afraid. Afraid of the side effects of HRT because the side effects are all they drum into me whenever I have a consultation about it.

I’ve gone from pills to patches. I’ve gone from high oestrogen levels to low oestrogen levels.

I’ve bled consistently and then not bled at all. I’ve been manic enough to put a knife to my husband’s throat.

Two days ago I felt so ill that I wouldn’t have cared if I died. I was totally exhausted. It was an effort to climb the stairs. Every joint ached. My knees hurt, my head ached. My eyes felt sunken. The pain in my shoulders was unbearable. I was tired and yet I couldn’t sleep. I felt weak, unable to focus and my skin was drier than it has ever been. It took me twenty minutes to make the bed and even longer to get out of it. Last night I changed my patch and felt somewhat better. Not a coincidence. Hormonal imbalance is debilitating and any doctor who disagrees needs to train themselves better in women’s health.

My sex life is non-existent.  I’ve gone from being a sexual woman to one who couldn’t care less in a matter of months.

My oestrogen intake was vastly decreased when I changed to patches. I only wish I had researched this earlier but I stupidly believed and trusted the doctors. It is only now after my own vast research, do I understand what is happening to me.

My eyes are always dry. Some days the grittiness makes it impossible for me to focus on my work.

Tomorrow I am going to demand more oestrogen. I’m going to request a preparation that will give me back my sex drive. After all, I’m not over the hill yet.

Wish me luck. I don’t imagine it will be easy and I only hope I come home victorious.