On Thursday evening I attended an appointment in a private clinic. The consultant was pleasant enough. He asked if I had children, how I had birthed them - two caesareans; one emergency, one planned. He asked if I planned to have anymore. I was puzzled, he knew I was on HRT for my crippling perimenopausal symptoms, he knew my age. I replied that my husband had had a vasectomy. He replied:
“Ah, one of the brave ones”.
This made me dislike him a little bit. He asked about my symptoms and, although I class myself as fairly articulate, I stumbled over my words and downplayed the anxiety, the feelings of losing my mind. I focused instead on the physical symptoms; the painful cramps and the endless bleeding.
After a thankfully painless yet uncomfortable internal examination he recommended a hysteroscopy. He suggested that given my two c-sections and my “tiny cervix” I would perhaps like to have general anaesthetic for this procedure but I could discuss that with the anaesthetist at the time. Whilst I was under I could have a mirena coil fitted which again would be uncomfortable without sedation. He continued to bandy about scary words like womb cancer. He concluded by saying with the coil fitted I could “go crazy with the oestrogen”. I internally sighed and thanks him for his time before leaving.
The thing is I will go for the hysteroscopy and I will get the coil fitted. I didn’t disagree with anything he said, after all he is more knowledgeable than me on gynaecology & I don’t want to develop any type of cancer if I can prevent it, it was just the manner in which he conveyed his medical opinion that irked me; his bedside manner left a lot to be desired & he clearly had a dislike for HRT. Knowledgeable in gynaecology but absolutely no clue about the absolute horror of not feeling in control of your thoughts, emotions and moods.
Me and my wonderful brother in Puerto Pollensa a good few years ago.
Elevated BMI
On Friday I was emailed a copy of the letter the consultant sent to my GP. Not once but twice he had mentioned my “elevated BMI”. I wasn’t weighed at my appointment, not once had he mentioned my weight. He had judged me by looking. Again he is not wrong, my BMI is most probably “elevated” but that did not stop my heart from sinking when I read those words. Speaking to my husband afterwards I realised what the consultant lacked; compassion and with that knowledge of my quest to get fitter.
As I type this I have just boarded a plane to Glasgow. My mum is poorly and my brother needs support. I woke early for the flight and as I drove down the quiet road to the airport I listened to Tony Blackburn & giggled at his cheesy dad jokes. He played The Twist by Chubby Checker and I literally felt my dad in the car with me. My dad would do the twist to any song; it was just his style of dancing & the joy he got from music was wonderful. Later, as I sat on the aeroplane & fastened the seat belt across my tummy all I could think about were those words “elevated BMI”.
Me & my family on Mont Ventoux many years ago.
Home
I’m now on my way home. My mum has improved & I need to get back to work (& normality) tomorrow but I will be back in just under a fortnight to celebrate my legend of a brother who turned 50 today. This Megababe Monday has included a couple of photos of him because he truly is my hero.
This week’s glimmers
The delicious potato and leek soup that my husband made me once before I left for my mum’s and the evening I returned.
Comfort in a bowl
I completed Week 5 run 3 of the Couch to 5k programme which consists of a 20 minute run whilst at my mum’s. It was wonderful running in my childhood village & I was definitely spurred on by the phrase ‘elevated BMI’.
My halfway point in my run was the wonderful Bothwell Castle
My unexpected trip home meant I got to have a delicious birthday curry with my brother last night and I got to watch him open his presents this morning. It was a tough two days - and it really hit home how much my brother does for my mum every day - but the silver lining was spending time with him & with my mum.
Present haul including the wonderful ‘A Compendium of Irish Pints’ by Ali Dunworth.
🖕🏼🖕🏼🖕🏼 to men who think they know everything there is about a woman’s body and mind when they never will!!!!
❤️