Fun Facts about Menopause
Just kidding, nothing about menopause is fun.
(Listen, this is going to be a post about periods and other fun lady parts stuff. It’s okay if you don’t want to read it.)
Last April, I had to visit my gynecologist. I was having pain in the labial area, and pain in that part of the body is never good. Turns out, I had a Bartholin gland cyst, which if you don’t know what that is, Do. Not. Look. It. Up. Suffice to say, it’s quite painful, the solution is just as painful, and I had quite a few uncomfortable days in what turned out to be That Year.
In part because of that fun experience and in part because COVID pandemic, I did not return to my gyn’s office in 2020.
I rectified that this morning, visiting my gynecologist for my first yearly exam since, er, 2018. I hadn’t had a pap smear in four years, and I hadn’t had a mammogram in five. (Please don’t lecture me — I’m trying to get better at taking care of myself, but it’s a process.)
In May of this year, I had two periods, which, since I don’t find one period a month very fun, was low on my list of good times. Until May, my menstrual cycle had been slowly getting longer, averaging about six weeks in between menstruation. Apparently I needed to make up for that in May.
However, since May I have had exactly zero periods. Plus, I have been having (mild?) hot flashes. (Do hot flashes occur on a spectrum? I suppose I should have asked.)
Is this menopause? Not quite. My doctor informed me that in order to officially be in menopause, I have to not menstruate for one calendar year. “The average age of menopause is 51,” she told me. “You may still have a period or two in October or January.” Super, thanks, doc.
In general, I feel fine. I do not miss having periods. I asked about lubrication in case of dryness during intercourse. She suggested a couple of things, and then said a phrase I would have preferred to never learn.
Vaginal atrophy.
It seems that on top of vaginal dryness because of hormonal changes, I am also facing the possibility of vaginal atrophy, along with the other 1.3 million people in the United States entering menopause this year.
Are You Kidding Me?
Let me get this straight: After menstruating monthly since I was 13, give or take a few months for four pregnancies and those weird amenorrheaic months I had in my late 20s; after an abnormal pap smear; after a biopsy that showed nothing serious (aka ASCUS); after approximately 160 weeks of pregnancy, resulting one stillbirth, and three live vaginal births; after a fucking Bartholin gland cyst; I am looking down the barrel of vaginal atrophy?
The indignity of being a woman sometimes is A Lot. Men do not get penile atrophy. They don’t face declining fertility as they age. If they start to have performance issues, they can take a pill — they can choose from difference pills to take! They don’t spend a literal lifetime getting prodded, entered, poked, smeared, and squished at various doctors’ offices.
Don’t even get me started on legislation regarding reproductive health care. I mean, most women can’t even get birth control without a doctor’s visit and a fucking prescription.
I have been having (very satisfying!) sex with the same person for 20-ish years now. Our children are getting older, and I no longer need to fear getting pregnant. I knew that age and menopause would present some challenges insofar as sexual intercourse, but I didn’t know vaginal atrophy would be one of them.
[takes deep breath]
I just feel like me and my vagina have been doing good work all of these years, and I think God and/or the medical profession can come up with a better prize than vaginal atrophy. How about instead of erectile dysfunction drug research and lobbying to overturn Roe v. Wade, we take all those dollars and apply them to research and development to prevent and end vaginal atrophy.
I bet 1.3 million people this year alone would be with me on this.
Photo by Alexander Mils on Unsplash
