I started HRT in August and whoa, it’s good stuff. I said a few weeks in that I was still very angry, but my oestrogen level has now risen to the point where I found a pile of dishes “soaking” in the sink recently and instead of spitting ancestral curses at my husband, I thought: “I know – I will model good kitchen practices by calmly washing these.” Then I did! My anxiety has stabilised to a level where emails and calls excite only the standard mild-to-moderate dread and my brain fog has dissipated so much I even turned a column in early once – an unprecedented event. It was worth going through another coil insertion (I could explain why but I’ll spare you) – the highest endorsement, as anyone who has experienced that particular jabby delight can confirm.
Why am I talking about HRT again? I don’t particularly want “being menopausal” to be my thing – I’m more interested in why Edith, my hen, has decided to live in a tree. But things keep coming up (much like Edith) and here we are. Just this week I read a news report that HRT “should not be prescribed to ease symptoms of anxiety and depression in menopausal women”, according to “landmark new guidelines”, with experts saying “there was little evidence that HRT helped to improve low mood, anxiety and mood swings”.
