I knew it had been worth sharing something so personal ten minutes after my column had gone online.
That’s when the first menopausal message arrived.
“Thank goodness. I feel like I’m going mad. I’m angry, forgetful and irrational and at 40 I feel too young to be going through this but I am. Thank you.”
I’d discussed perimenopause and, in my case, hitting full menopause – done and dusted by 45. The response was overwhelming.
One reader (Susie from Barnhill) said that, now 50 and experiencing all the symptoms from night sweats to weight gain, she feels shame when she remembers an incident half her lifetime ago.
“I was a 25-year-old apprentice in a property company in Dundee and the receptionist was superb.
“She was promoted to office manager and kept us all right. She was funny, direct and smart.
“That lady was probably around my age now – 50 or so. She suddenly became really scatty and red of face. She seemed panicked and unsure of herself.
“And one day, she just didn’t come back. Handed in her notice. Gone”
‘I wish I’d been there for her’
Only now does Susie look back with almost certainty her colleague was going through menopause.
“It didn’t even hit my radar. I had no idea. No one did. I feel awful. I wish she’d felt she could have talked to someone. I wish I’d been there for her.”
There’s a serious side to this borne out in statistics, with an estimated one in ten women giving up their jobs because of the menopause.
All that talent and expertise shelved because of the gripping anxiety than can come as our oestrogen levels plummet.
How awful to think they give up their independence, years of progress and income because they feel they are no longer good enough.
Another reader, a mum whose son plays sports with mine, came to say hello last weekend.
“It’s brilliant we’re talking about this,” she said, “A lady I know told me she’s been feeling awful but that she’s just got to get on with it and stop moaning.
“Eventually it will pass. I asked her how long she’d felt awful and she said ‘the best part of ten years’.
“A decade! That’s some wait.”
One email was from a man – a husband who laughed along with my admissions of forgetting the word for carpet and finding food in all manner of places it shouldn’t be.
He’d tried to be as supportive as he could through his wife’s symptoms and rather sweetly bought a fan to blow cold air to help through her night sweats.
But there was one unexpected sign of forgetfulness he struggled with – when his wife started calling him by her ex-husband’s name.
It took a while but they’re learning to laugh about it. Now, if it happens, he replies by calling her the name of his ex.
Chat rearranged
One person who got in touch – who I also know – enjoyed reading some very familiar feelings and suggested coffee to chat all things hormonal.
The date was set, the venue chosen and we were both looking forward to a natter at 9.30am on Monday after we’d dropped our kids at school.
It got to 11am and my blood ran cold. I’d forgotten and felt awful.
“You should have called me,” I texted. “I’m so sorry. Were you sitting there just waiting? I feel terrible.”
And she replied: “Oh my goodness…I forgot too!”
We decided to reschedule our chat about forgetfulness for another day. Who knows, this time, we might even remember.
