Choosing early menopause in my late 30s…
Actively deciding to go into menopause in my late 30s might sound rather drastic, but for me it was the end of a very long journey.
Years of pain, misery and surgery took me to taking this decision. And I’m glad I did.
Rewinding, I’d suffered from endometriosis since I was 17, and had multiple keyhole surgeries on my cervix. In my mid 20s I had a Mirena coil fitted. Although it took about a year to settle in, for the first time since having periods I felt like I also had a life. I was able to work and generally enjoy myself more.
After five years it needed replacing, and my agony began again. It felt different this time. I waited it out for a year, but it just wasn’t settling. Eventually I was sent for an x ray and they said the coil wasn’t there! But they said not to worry. My mum works as a gynae nurse and she was concerned, but I trusted the consultant.
Too much, it seems. I ended up collapsing, and a CT scan found that the coil had torn a hole in my womb and was poking the back of my bowel. I had surgery to remove it, but I couldn’t have another one fitted.
Considering menopause
The consultant who performed the surgery suggested a chemical treatment initially, to bring about menopause. But after about a year, it was clear this wasn’t working either. He said that essentially my cervix and womb were ruined, and asked how I’d feel about having them removed. By this point I was desperate, and so fed up being poked and prodded.
It’s important for me to say this. As well as endometriosis, I also had adenomyosis. This is where the inner lining of the womb pokes through the muscle wall. And I had a pinhole cervix. There was an awful lot going on, and I don’t want to scare anybody thinking that endometriosis will lead to this. But for me, this was the decision to consider.
It was a tough one. I was 38 and didn’t have children, and I knew that I could never be a candidate for IVF due to my conditions. The hole in my womb meant even if an embryo could be directly implanted I’d be unlikely to carry a baby. What I wanted was for someone to tell me, unequivocally, that I’d never have kids. But no one could or would tell me for sure. I went through untold grief, wondering if I was selfish to consider the op, should I just put up with the pain?But I was in so much agony all the time, and my period brought on actual labour pains. Eventually, I realised I needed my life back and went ahead with the operation.
It was full on. I had my cervix, womb and ovaries removed, as well as some ligaments supporting my hips and spine. I had these removed as my endometriosis had spread and was growing up them – like poison ivy – apparently this is quite common. After I’d made the decision, that’s when they told me the chances of a pregnancy were very low. I felt relieved when I came round from the op and they said the areas were diseased. Maybe that sounds strange, but I’d started to worry that I’d been going mad.
All-encompassing
My conditions affected every area of my life. In my 20s when I had the coil in I could work normally and was pain free. But then I began to get chronically tired, a common symptom with endometriosis. I need a 2-3 hour nap just to get though the day. And I mean grindingly tired, aching, couldn’t get out of bed. I would take a temp job then have to quit. Eventually I started running a small business from home. I had a lot to offer, but physically I was struggling to cope.
When I was working I found I had to justify myself, to men and women. There was a lot of judgment from women who also said they had bad periods, and didn’t take me seriously. In my 20s, people assumed I was tired because I was drinking too much. I was depressed, in chronic pain and tired all the time. I felt disrespected, as though society didn’t take me seriously.
Now I’ve had the surgery, I feel the best I’ve felt in years physically. But mentally, my mood is very low. I’m on HRT and just figuring out the right dose of testosterone for me. I feel like there’s no ‘home’ for me – I didn’t go into early menopause naturally, I don’t have endometriosis any more. The support groups for these are fantastic, but I don’t belong there.
I’m so glad that menopause is being talked about more now. But I have been left to my own devices quite a lot. Often it’s months in between tests and check ups. I love the NHS, but I do feel very alone sometimes.