Finding a Doctor Who Would Listen: My Menopause Care Journey

Finding a doctor who would listen and actually understand what I was going through in menopause became a journey I never expected to take.

At first, I had a female doctor who said she specialized in women’s health. She was middle-aged, like me, and I thought, Surely she’ll understand.

I sat in her office and explained what I was dealing with. The exhaustion. The changes in my body. The feeling that I just wasn't myself anymore.

She reached her hand across the desk, held mine and said, “I know what you’re saying. I feel the same. I’m exhausted too. We’ll get through this together.”

Then she told me it was normal at our age.

I remember thinking, This is crazy.

I appreciated her kindness. I really did. But I didn't want someone to simply tell me that she felt awful too.

I wanted to know why I felt awful and what we could do about it.

Maybe This Doctor Will Understand

Not long after that, a local chiropractic and wellness clinic advertised that they now had a doctor on site who specialized in menopause.

I was so excited.

Finally.

I booked an appointment. We talked for more than half an hour. I explained everything I was experiencing, and I left that conversation with the recommendation that I might need an antidepressant and possibly a GLP-1 medication.

I was so discouraged.

I didn't feel that depression explained what was happening to me.

The brain fog. The anxiety. The chills that turned into sweating. The exhaustion. The changes happening throughout my body. The strange feeling that the person I had always been was somehow disappearing underneath all of these symptoms.

There had to be more to the story.

So I Tried Another Route

I decided to see a naturopath.

If the doctors couldn't help me, maybe she could.

The consultation was wonderful. She listened. She asked questions. For the first time, I felt like someone was really trying to put the pieces together.

She prepared a list of lab tests she wanted me to have done.

Then I got to the front desk.

The blood work was going to cost approximately $850.

Eight hundred and fifty dollars.

I didn't have that kind of money to spend on blood work.

I remember thinking:

Why is this so hard? Why can't I find someone who can help me?

Then Came the French Doctor

My husband was seeing a male French doctor who had received his medical training in the UK.

At this point, I figured I had nothing to lose.

Maybe he can help.

I went into his office and he asked, “How can I help you?”

So I laid it all out.

I told him about my hormonal symptoms. I told him I didn't feel like myself. I told him I needed help.

He looked at me and exclaimed:

“Oh my God! This isn't good!”

I laughed.

“Well,” I said, “this is menopause, I guess.”

His response still makes me laugh.

“We NEED women! Men can't survive without women! We can't have women feeling awful! Men will die!”

For the first time in a while, I was sitting in a doctor's office talking about menopause and laughing.

We talked some more, and then he said, “You know, I've heard about menopause. I don't know much, but I've heard about the seven dwarves of menopause.”

I burst out laughing.

He started listing them:

Itchy. Bitchy. Sweaty. Forgetful. Sleepy. Bloated. Crazy.

“The menopause dwarves!”

We had a good chuckle.

But then he did something important.

He admitted that menopause wasn't his area of expertise and he tried to connect me with someone whose area it was.

He knew of a menopause doctor who he thought might be able to help me, and he arranged for me to receive a phone consultation.

Another Hope, and Another Disappointment

About two weeks later, the menopause doctor called.

I had completed a questionnaire beforehand, and we spent about half an hour discussing my symptoms.

At the end of the conversation, she told me that birth control could help. She said she would text me three different options, and I could research them and decide which one I wanted to try.

After I hung up, I felt discouraged all over again.

I didn't feel like I needed birth control.

I felt like I needed so much more.

I needed someone to look at the whole picture.

That was about a year ago.

And Then I Heard About Dr. Premji

About eleven months ago, I attended a local menopause event called The Meno Factor.

There was a panel of women speaking, and one of them was Dr. Premji.

She talked about her vision for a clinic she was opening called Milestone Menopause Centre.

And I listened.

She talked about educating patients, but also about educating doctors.

She was a menopause specialist, and the clinic she described sounded different from anything I had encountered so far.

All I needed was a doctor's referral.

Unfortunately, my health took another turn and I began dealing with inflammation and other issues in my body, so menopause care temporarily moved down my very long list of things to deal with.

I finally received my referral in April.

Recently, I completed my full care through the Milestone program.

And all I can say is:

Wow.

A whole clinic that knew what to do.

People who understood menopause.

People who knew what questions to ask.

People who understood that menopause care isn't simply about handing a woman a prescription and sending her on her way.

After all that searching, I finally felt like I had found care.

Women Shouldn't Have to Search This Hard

I know I'm not the only woman who has gone through this.

So many women are searching for care.

The waitlists can be long. Private options can be expensive. And too many women are left bouncing from appointment to appointment wondering why nobody seems to be putting all the pieces together.

I'm incredibly grateful that I eventually found a great team.

And yes, I still see my French GP.

In fact, he ended up giving me something else that became very important to me.

A story.

Those ridiculous seven menopause dwarves stayed in my head:

Itchy. Bitchy. Sweaty. Forgetful. Sleepy. Bloated. Crazy.

And somewhere along the way, those seven dwarves became seven chickens.

My MenoClucks were born.

Because after everything I experienced, I realized women need more than medical care during this season.

We need information.

We need doctors who listen.

We need better access to care.

We need to know we aren't alone.

But sometimes, we also need a little grace and a really good laugh.

And if seven ridiculous menopausal chickens can help another woman laugh on a day when she doesn't quite feel like herself, then maybe something beautiful came out of my long journey to find someone who would listen.