Why you should keep hot flushes from your hubby!
UNTIL I went to see my doctor because I couldn’t sleep, I’d never even heard the term ‘perimenopause’. Looking at my medical records, the doctor started to ask seemingly random questions. Was I experiencing any allergic reactions? Funnily enough, yes, I seemed to be sneezing almost constantly and my skin was itchy.
Hormonal changes can make women susceptible to allergies — who knew?
Was I feeling particularly emotional? I thought back to the night before, when I’d wept during an advert on TV. Yes, I replied, I was rather. ‘And how is your libido?’ It’s not a question I am often asked by a young, handsome doctor.
‘It seems to be coming back,’ I was tempted to reply, but instead I told him that it was pretty much dead and had been for six months.
‘I suspect you’re perimenopausal,’ he said, and went on to explain that this precursor to the menopause often affected women of my age (at the time I was 47).
I left the surgery feeling deflated. I was now clearly ‘over the hill’, and my body was telling me so. And this was just the starter — the main course, with even more hideous trimmings, was imminent.
At home, my husband asked me what the doctor had said. Now, there are many things I share with my husband — in fact, we discuss pretty much everything. He knows me better than anyone else.
But after 24 years of marriage, there are still certain things he simply doesn’t need to be involved in. I have never stopped closing the door to use the bathroom, for example. This news from the doctor? Call it decorum or call me old fashioned, but there was no way I was about to tell him I was teetering on the edge of the menopause.
AReCeNT poll found that half of women are similarly tight-lipped on the subject, and hide it from their partners. I’m not the least bit surprised. And why should that be a bad thing? To sustain a marriage, there must be some mystery. And with men of my husband’s generation (he recently turned 60), the word ‘menopause’ is a total turn-off. (The word ‘perimenopause’ would be, too, if they had any idea what it meant.)
In fact, it’s my firm belief that nothing puts a man off you more than bringing up the menopause; indeed, any mention of ‘women’s problems’ usually sends them running for the hills.
When my husband asked me what the doctor had said, I mumbled something about allergies, and after that did not mention a single symptom to him. He could not be less interested, and I don’t blame him.
I don’t see why he would want to know that I’m having a hot flush or am in a foul mood — the latter he can probably work out for himself.
As for sex, well, it makes sense that the menopause would put people off having it. We are here to procreate, after all. Sex is so compelling because nature needs us to go forth and multiply to secure the survival of the species. Once a woman is menopausal, she can no longer bear children, so on a biological level at least she is no longer attractive.
My friend’s theory is that men’s distaste for the menopause is in part linked to their egos.
‘They like to think they’re virile, young bucks who only cavort with hot, young women, even if they are 80,’ she tells me. ‘So it’s best to stay quiet on the subject if you actually want sex.’
Very many women at this time of life don’t want it, of course — or at least not with their husbands.
If they go off us, I’m afraid the feeling is mutual. Yes, the perimenopausal libidinal surge is also a recognised symptom — for the lucky few — but it’s not always our long-term partners who benefit.
One friend of mine found herself a toyboy. It was all going swimmingly until one day he grabbed her thigh and stumbled on an HRT patch. ‘What’s this?’ he asked. ‘A vitamin patch,’ she replied.
I haven’t gone that far: I told my husband about my HRT patch once I started to wear it, about four years ago, as I progressed to full-blown menopause. But it was no big deal, I just said: ‘This thing on my upper thigh is supposed to stop me going mad.’
Diagnosis is tricky because there are so many symptoms, 44 according to a recent report, ranging from itchy skin to depression. But neither I nor any of my friends have encountered most of them, and I have been surprised by all the stories in the papers of women who describe themselves as being utterly disabled by the symptoms.
In my experience, it seems to be just another women’s issue we can manage without it impacting too much on our relationships.
I can’t think of a single woman who misses her periods — and there can be other positives, too. My mother said her confidence improved with the menopause.
‘I was always far too meek,’ she told me. ‘Suddenly I found myself reacting to annoying situations in a way I’d never have dared to before. Finally I had the confidence to tell people what I really thought.’
She quipped: ‘Good thing I’m no longer married — this might be grounds for divorce.’
I think I was lucky to have such an astute GP who diagnosed me as perimenopausal, as opposed to depressed or anything else. Maybe he, like our son, had been subjected to menopause awareness training at school.
When we sent our son to an all-boys’ school, little did we imagine he would be taught how to recognise (and sympathise with) menopause symptoms.
Not content with the pressures of A-levels, the school drafted in a ‘menopause influencer’ called Lesley Salem to help sixthformers understand ‘the change’ and demystify it. When I asked my son what he’d learnt from the talk he said: ‘Nothing really, only that women go nuts at a certain age.’ So that was helpful.
I think, all things considered, it might well be better to keep boys — and men — in the dark.