I’m going to be 52 next month and I really don’t mind. I’ve always loved my birthday and getting older has not been so bad, thanks to exercise and a good GP.
I have a few symptoms like a clicky right knee, and memory loss, but generally, I feel good. Looking at old photos of my grandmothers, they both looked like they’d been soaked in brine by the time they hit their forties, so, compared to them, I feel like I’m doing alright.
I was discussing ageing recently with a friend in her sixties. She had been through the mill with breast cancer and a hysterectomy – subjects that are so common in my friendship circle – but then she told me about an incident in the shower that left me terrified. She had been feeling a bit strange during the day and later that evening, in the shower, she suddenly felt pressure in her pelvis. When she looked down she said she could see her organs bulging out of her vagina. She was suffering a prolapse.
I had heard something about this but it sounded like folklore. Something you would see on Game of Thrones or in Alien. I imagined it was a very rare occurrence, like winning the lottery twice, but the NHS says it’s “common”. Some 20 to 40 per cent of women report symptoms that affect their quality of life, while one in 12 suffer a prolapse where one or more of the organs in the pelvis slip down from their normal position and bulge into the vagina. Women over 50, particularly those who are post-menopausal, or who have had children are most prone to it. Well, that’s me!
Apparently, because my friend was menopausal but had not been prescribed estrogen (which is not advised if the patient has had breast cancer) it had caused her vaginal tissue and fascia around her pelvis (the walls that hold everything up) to weaken, resulting in her organs to collapse out of the nearest exit.
After speaking to her oncologist she had a procedure to help support her vitals in place and was prescribed a daily dose of estrogen. Quick as a flash, she was back in the room with an energy boost, brighter skin and a rekindled sexual appetite. The risk of her cancer coming back is higher statistically now that she is on estrogen but because her body wasn’t producing any and the dose being small, it’s hopefully unlikely to trigger another tumour.
I do remember the odd midwife mentioning pelvic floor exercises but not explaining why it is so incredibly important. If I had been shown a video of what could happen, I would have a Pilates studio in my kitchen. I’ve asked a few of my friends if they knew about prolapse and some do – a little bit – but said they don’t want to know the ins and outs because of how unlikely it (probably) is. It’s likely! Fifty per cent likely!
The male version is rare and occurs out of their rear end caused by weakened pelvic floor or chronic straining on the toilet – and of course, us women can suffer an anal prolapse, too. Joy.
It still makes me angry whenever I see period products available in public toilets – reminding me of those times when I was caught short or too skint to buy them. Women’s health has always felt embarrassing and taboo and while it is changing, thanks to Davina and the Bodyform ads using red dye to represent blood, we still have a long way to go.
My menopause journey so far hasn’t been the typical hot flushes. My affliction has been tinnitus and back to back urine infections that resulted in a kidney infection, a febrile convulsion and hospitalisation.
I felt that I wasn’t being listened to at my local surgery. I kept telling the doctors that something felt off about the constant UTIs, but each appointment was dealt as a new case. Menopause wasn’t factored into the equation.
A friend recommended I book in with a menopause team – a group of doctors in my area who specialise in tailoring hormone replacement to the individual (for £250). The consultant spoke softly and asked sympathetically if I knew what menopause was (inflection on the “was”) and that “many women don’t realise that it happens in one day?” (inflection on the “day”). I had read this somewhere, but what does it actually mean? It doesn’t feel like a day, does it? She then went on to kneel next to me and take my blood pressure and that was it. No blood test. “Just keep taking your estrogen (and giz your money)”. Later, I was invited to leave a review which resulted in me getting a full refund.
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I’m lucky that a new GP started at my local surgery who has balanced me out with a progesterone coil, estrogen and a soupçon of testosterone. This was all great until my children left home for university in September and I started having night sweats. Not burning up, just waking up cold and drenched in sweat. This can happen, apparently as part of the emotion of the sudden empty nest. It’s so weird. I’m sad the children have gone, but not so sad to cause my entire body to weep at night.
After a phone consultation my doc has upped my estrogen (four pumps daily now) and – touch wood – I think it’s kicking in. I don’t want to feel like I’m hurtling towards my innards plopping out of my fanny. I want to prevent it and anything else that could happen. I’m hoping that there’s a team of scientists out there who have been quietly working on a preventative procedure to help eliminate this very frightening possibility.
Perhaps the government should prescribe Pilates and yoga classes to the over-50s and a mandatory regular check on our estrogen levels – because it feels like if you don’t ask for it you won’t get it, and most of us don’t know what to ask for.
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