After making sure that the nasty progesterone had gone in the bin and bitten the dust, I eagerly awaited my consultation with the Gynaecologist Katherine. It was to be a call due to Covid and then we could go from there. Look at some options and explore. To say I was excited would be an understatement, an advent calendar filled with supplements replacing chocolate was created. I opened each day’s window and popped my pills with the anticipation of a six year old waiting for Santa to bring their Nintendo. Now as you know I had binned those nasty progesterone pills in excitement of the meeting with the Gyno. I
don’t know what I thought she would offer me or what to expect from my telephone consultation but as per usual and true to form I was armed with a list of questions, queries and concerns. Remember I had waited for years to get referred to this menopause clinic, I had heard such rave reviews about it and finally my day was here.
However, the day before my period decided to arrive and with it the onslaught of anxiety, panic, and worry. But I put my positive pants on and prepped myself for the meet. I have never been on a blind date, but I am guessing that the emotion and the thoughts that go through your head are similar. “Do not talk too much Mollie, don’t be negative, be open and honest but don’t scare her off”. I was ready to impress. I cried. All the way through our meeting/consultation/date. I cried. The minute Katherine started to ask me questions a flood of panic and anxiety surged though me, a tidal wave of emotions crashed over my soul. Kathrine said that she understood. I apologised for being upset confessing my anxiety like a catholic. Was Katherine my priest? Going to set my penance or set me free? Once I calmed down, we talked about my symptoms, we talked about what had been going on since I had started with the last bout of HRT. I confessed that I had researched, dis-agreed with my GP on the dosage and frequency she had me on. And that I had broken the golden rule and Googled and read medical papers on said drugs. I was on that consultation call for 15 minutes all told. Now remember that the first rule about fight club is we never talk about fight club. I had waited to get into this exclusive menopause clinic club for years. I had spent my time on the waiting list, been patient and a patient. I’d read all of the rave reviews on various Facebook groups, patiently tapping my fingers whilst my application was pending, and finally I was in. What can I tell you? Well. I wanted a refund. Exclusive as this club was, there were no smorgasbord of suggestions, it was simple and yet not effective. I was given three options to mull over, stay as you are, try a reduced version of what you’re doing or go back to your supplements. Disappointed isn’t the word to describe how I felt. I was overcome with yet even more grief. You could potentially have a hysterectomy but first you’d have to try another round of HRT. A new type I asked? ‘”No” was the answer I got. The HRT available to me was all the types I had tried before. The ones that made me even more anxious, have panic attacks and made me gain weight? “Yes” replied Katherine. Great. So back to where I was at before fight club. I was losing my own fight with menopause, with life by this point. After more crying and me saying that the thought of putting more progesterone into my body, which I knew was the cause for these intensified symptoms, made me cry again. A world record for me. 15 minutes on a call with a professional I had cried for 12 of them. We ended the call with booking another meeting for three weeks’ time.
I would go away and talk to Ian. Weigh up the pros and cons of the advice I was being given, then talk again in three weeks. Hobson’s choice didn’t have a patch on this. We booked a meeting in for three weeks later. Three weeks to decide did I – A. Want to carry on pumping my blood with something that made me feel like I was useless, worthless, anxious and fat.
B. Try a reduced form of this HRT that would potentially make me feel a little less useless, worthless, anxious and fat. C. Go back to where I was at before feeling useless, worthless, anxious and fat. But with a nice Spanish fan as a fashion accessory for the constant hot flushes. I mean maybe there is a gap in the market. Feeling fat ? Feeling anxious? Feeling worthless No worries you can feel all of those of those things whilst resembling a flamenco dancer!!
The only positive to my latest experience with HRT was that the hot flashes did go. But weighing up the pros and cons. There were more cons than, well Holloway Prison. I was devastated, waited years to get into fight club only to be knocked out in the first round. Floored. It was like Dr Feel Good was the referee and Katherine my opponent. I was never going to win. I had to do something, I couldn’t spend the rest of lockdown, nay my life pacing up and the down my kitchen like I was auditioning for a brass band. There was only one thing for it. GOOGLE. Back to my trusted old comrade and provider of all things unorthodox. I was on a mission. I needed to find my next alternative that worked and fast. Now that the fight club had knocked me out bitten the dust.
And what I found blew my mind