Post #24

How to get HRT from your doctor

The Department of Midlife Affairs · Filed Under: Events Beyond Our Control · For the Record: This is NOT acceptable

So this is a biggie, and by biggie I mean MASSIVE. Have you ever wondered why your visit to the GP, OB/GYN, endocrinologist falls flat on it’s face? Why starting a conversation about your hormonal health and getting on HRT is like pulling FUCKING teeth. Imagine that string on a door knob in some primitive backwater, but worse. It’s at the doctor’s office!

The medical profession especially the female-health focused, medical profession doesn’t want you to feel better. They don’t think it’s important that you want to unzip your skin and crawl out of it like some demented She-snake because your hormones are doing a Thelma and Louise. They don’t actually believe your joints hurt or you can’t string two sentences together because of brain fog. Worse still that sex is so painful you tear and bleed and if you’re really unlucky you have to deal with your partner’s frustration too. AS IF THAT FUCKING MATTERS RIGHT NOW!

In fact, these utter twats and so-called medical pros just want to tick a box that satisfies the insurance company, or pharma rep who is probably incentivizing them to push things like anti-anxiety, or depression medication. Total sell outs and wastes of space. Being a zombie is not on my to do list, I’m already navigating the brain fog like the Titanic dodging icebergs.

Well, I found the way to stick it to the lot of them. It took several visits over the years to male doctors, female endocrinologists, my so-called allies, Sisters in Asclepius and they all failed me. I sat in those sticky plastic chairs in so many doctor’s offices nodding and channeling my inner Leatherface.

Defeated, unheard, condescended to, on those occasions I went home a husk. Fragile and ready to go pfft with the first gust of air. Tatter Cloak, saw my distress and grabbed my hand, “how’d it go love? Are they going to help you?” I just shook my head in defeat, tears gathering, the lump already high in my throat. “Seriously?” He persisted gently, “nothing?”

Still mute (I fucking know! Me The Crone lost for words?) I nod. “THAT’S IT! Make another appointment. I’m coming with you; they can’t get away with this.”

And that was how it began. I walked into the doctor’s office; the receptionist looked Tatter Cloak up and down like he was something the cat dragged in. But he was ready with his best resting bitch face (the one that scares small children) and said with authority. “We’re here to see (insert doctor’s name here).” Moments later we’re in the room with said so-called professional. Tatter Cloak’s RBF upped a notch.

A quizzical doctor looks at me, then at Tatter Cloak, then back at me. “We need to revise the decision to decline HRT for my wife.” Five minutes later and it’s all over. All it FUCKING took was Tatter Cloak explaining how he needed his wife to feel healthy and happy, to want sex again etc etc. The mention of sex had the doctor perking up in sympathy and before we know it, he’s gushing. FUCKING gushing like Uriah Heep and not able to act fast enough to give me the gamut of medications to ease my perimenopause symptoms. He glances meekly at my husband who is still RBFing and looming large like a frothing Rottweiler.

I ran out of there before the doctor changed his mind and didn’t fucking look back! Now Tatter Cloak comes to all my appointments, we’re not there with my care yet, not even close. But without it I’d be truly screwed.

The utterly pathetic reality is that doctors don’t take women seriously at all. I remember my endocrinologist’s mask slipping when I quipped, “aren’t you glad you’re not a woman?” His reply said it all, “well we men have problems too.” (I hid my shock and ran through a mental list of expletives some starting with A and ending in HOLE, others rhyming with RUNT).

So now losing your hair, getting a floppy dick, not putting on muscle and taking ages to have a piss, is comparable to the utter Tour of Hades that is perimenopause or menopause for many women? Get a FUCKING life! What d’you expect from a gender that gets floored by Man-Flu!

Now, I’m not saying we women aren’t strong enough to say what we want. We are but when you rant until you’re blue in the face, what do you do? Doctors just don’t like to listen. They have a pre-existing set of notions (from an aged manual) that they cannot deviate from. The women doctors who have tried so very hard to ingratiate themselves in to the Men’s Club then take on this mantle of misinformation, just to fit in! Traitorous hags, and for them I hope THE CHANGE helps them realize who they should be standing with. And they call Crones witches?!

Many doctors, only care to see the male perspective so my advice to you is no matter what. Having a man to back you will get you your HRT faster than shit off a shovel.

CRONES UNITED