About that article on Perimenopause
My comment on an article in The Washington Post (11/12/24)
Thirty years on, I’m reminded of the shock and secrecy of the now ballyhooed phenomenon of perimenopause. My children, young men, had just left home and I thought I was experiencing acute empty nest syndrome when suddenly my body was drenched in sweat and tears would not stop.
The moment passed and I recalled the words of a friend whose previously sweet mother had “gone off the deep end.” She was going through “the change,” a commonly used term to explain mercurial behavior in mid-life women. Aha! My turn.
Things only got worse. I never slept. I fell often, with resulting serious injuries that required surgery and hospitalization. My magnificent career faltered.
Because my mother had died young, I had no frame of reference for what was happening to me. I phoned her sister to ask for advice, describing my new behaviors, the changes in my body, and was met with silence. “What should I do?” I asked. “I don’t know,” she said. “We didn’t have that.”
A slap in the face was how I experienced that lie. Her generation did not discuss such things, bodily functions, even if her knowledge would help the daughter of her beloved sister.
I looked for women who were unafraid to talk about the crisis we were in and one steered me to an endocrinologist who had helped her. He presented the facts: You fall because you don’t sleep. Your equilibrium is kaput, a hormonal imbalance that is as natural as night and day, and thus it has always been.
He prescribed estrogen and soon I was sleeping through the night, enjoying the company of friends and the challenges of my work. My sense of humor returned.
When estrogen supplements once again were found to increase the risk of cancer, I stopped taking them and have slept fitfully since. Now, at 81, my body and brain have bigger fish to fry than hot flashes or temper tantrums, but I would never demean the experience of perimenopause. It stinks. It has to be gotten through. Like much in life.