When Dr. Parkinson retired in 2007, I stepped into the role of medical director, clipboard in hand, bright-eyed and 36 years old. I had a team of about 25, mostly women, and a solid handful of them were older than me. Some would work with cold rags wrapped around their necks in surgery. Some were short-tempered. And some could go from cool and composed to a full-blown emotional hurricane if someone forgot to put tabs on the catheter tape.
The thermostat became so controversial that I had to duct-tape it closed as if it were a nuclear launch button. One minute in our hospital felt like the Arctic tundra, and the next was like Daytona Beach. Nobody could agree on the season we were in.
At the time, I chalked it up to personality quirks or plain old workplace stress. Maybe they were tired. Maybe they had a rough morning with their teenagers. Maybe they hated the new lunch break schedule I rolled out.
What didn’t cross my mind? Menopause.
My Experience
Fast-forward to today. I now realize I was managing a menopausal minefield, and I didn’t even know it existed.
Then, five years ago, it hit me like a train. I had entered the menopause gauntlet. Suddenly, I was the one with the cold rag. I was the one who cried during a Budweiser commercial on Super Bowl Sunday. (The horses, the dog; I’m not made of stone.) I was the one furious that someone had put bowls on the top rack of the dishwasher. I was the one in a daily thermostat tug-of-war with my husband — him in fleece, me sweating like a rotisserie chicken.
I was also the one who couldn’t remember why I walked into a room. Or why I opened the fridge. Or why I was crying. Or yelling. Or laughing maniacally. I couldn’t focus. I had zero energy. I was a complete stranger to myself. And I honestly thought I was losing my mind.
Then I went to my doctor.
She ran labs, patted my knee in that “You’re not nuts” way, and gently said, “You’re in menopause.”
Oh.
Once I got my hormones evened out, I felt like I had awoken from a fever dream. I returned to something resembling my old self — still a little sweaty but self-aware and no longer feral.
Now that I’ve been through it (and survived), I realize I missed a massive leadership opportunity back in those days. I never even considered menopause when I was managing that team of seasoned, brilliant, emotionally unpredictable women. Because I didn’t know. Because no one ever told me.
It’s not in leadership books. It’s not discussed during HR training. It’s not part of team-building seminars. But let me tell you something: If you’re working with women over age 40, menopause is probably working with you, too.
And if you’re reading this and wondering if it’s happening to you, well, sister, pull up a chair.
Warning! Warning!
Let’s break things down with five signs you may be in the throes of menopause:
1. Your Brain Has Left the Building
Your once razor-sharp memory now has the consistency of mashed potatoes. You can’t recall drug doses, even the ones you’ve used a hundred times. You stare at charts like they’re written in hieroglyphics. You forget you already gave the Cerenia injection and spend five minutes checking Plumb’s to make sure it doesn’t really matter.
2. You’re So Tired, You’re Horizontal By 7
You get home and immediately melt into the couch. You have zero desire to cook, talk or scroll on Instagram. Your idea of a wild night is watching two episodes of Ally McBeal before passing out with a bowl of cereal on your chest. You get invited to a BBQ and think, “Absolutely not.” You’d rather be in a medically induced coma.
3. Your Body Has Betrayed You
Your scrubs are clinging for dear life, and you blame the clothes dryer. Your knees hurt. Your hips creak. You drop something on the floor, and the thought of retrieving it becomes a full-on cost-benefit analysis. You try to get up off the ground and look like a turtle stuck on its back. Awkward.
4. You’re Weirdly Emotional
You cry at dog food commercials. You cry when the technician uses the wrong needle. You cry because someone said, “Are you OK?” (You think, “I’m definitely not OK, Karen.”) You snap at the receptionist because she asked you to authorize a prescription, and you were just not in the mood. You question your life’s path because your lunch order was wrong.
5. You’ve Lost Your Edge
You used to crush tough surgeries and float through complicated cases like a boss. Now, you second-guess everything. You avoid big surgeries. You feel anxious about procedures you’ve done for years. Your confidence is on hiatus, and you’re left saying, “Wait, what am I doing again?”
Be Proactive
If any of this sounds familiar, don’t panic. You’re not lazy, unmotivated or broken. You’re in menopause. And you’re not alone.
The sad part is our mothers probably didn’t talk about it. They either suffered in silence or chalked it up to “getting older.” You know, “It’s just part of life, honey. Put on some lipstick and power through.” Meanwhile, they’re sweating through their blouses and crying into their pot roasts.
But here’s the good news: This isn’t the 1950s. We have options. You do not have to white-knuckle your way through this hormonal rite of passage.
There are real solutions, ranging from hormone replacement therapy and supplements to lifestyle changes and low-dose antidepressants.
However, you might have to push a little. Not all physicians take menopause seriously. Some will say, “It’s just a phase” or “It’ll pass.” That’s not the strategy we’re looking for. That’s like ignoring a fire because it will burn out eventually — along with everything you care about.
Instead, insist on answers. Say, “Actually, I’d like a full panel of labs, including testosterone,” and “No, I’m not fine, and yes, I’d like to feel like myself again.” And if your doctor isn’t helpful? Find a new one. One who listens. One who doesn’t try to talk you into believing your symptoms are “normal” when you feel like a stranger is living in your skin.
You’re not crazy. You’re not weak. And you’re certainly not alone.
Menopause isn’t some shameful secret to hide behind a fan while you sip iced tea on a fainting couch. It’s biology. It’s life. It’s like puberty’s evil twin, but instead of getting boobs and mood swings, you get hot flashes, grocery store meltdowns, and the urge to run away and live in a yurt.
So, what do we do?
We talk about it.
We support each other.
We educate our teams, our daughters and, yes, even our male colleagues so we can stop pretending it isn’t happening and start dealing with it head-on.
The next time someone on your team bursts into tears because the printer jammed again, maybe ask how she’s doing before you assume she’s “too sensitive.” Maybe she’s just one estrogen molecule away from a full meltdown. Maybe she needs support. Maybe she needs to hear, “Yeah, I’ve had days like that, too.”
WHAT YOU CAN DO NEXT
If this article hit a little too close to home, don’t just sit in your sweaty scrubs and suffer. Here are a few first steps you can take:
- Book a doctor’s appointment: Ask for a full hormone panel that includes estrogen, progesterone and testosterone. Bring a list of your symptoms. Be direct. If your provider brushes you off, thank the person kindly and find one who won’t.
- Start tracking your symptoms: Use a journal or menopause tracking app to log what’s going on — the mood swings, sleep patterns, hot flashes, memory blips. Documenting trends gives you real data to take to your doctor.
- Talk to other women: Start the conversation. Normalize it. You’ll be shocked at how many friends, co-workers and colleagues are struggling silently. You’ll say, “Oh, my god, me too.”
- Consider your options: You have a menu of things to try, such as hormone replacement therapy (patches, pills or pellets), nonhormonal meds, natural remedies, acupuncture, dietary shifts. You don’t need to fix the issue overnight, but starting somewhere is better than staying stuck.
- Be gentle with yourself: Menopause isn’t your fault. You didn’t mess up. You’re not weak. You’re human. And you’re navigating something no one really prepares you for.
THE OTHER HALF
According to the Cleveland Clinic, “Andropause, or male menopause, is a term that describes decreasing testosterone levels in men. Testosterone production in men declines about 1% per year — much more gradually than estrogen production in women.”