When I was in my twenties, I didn’t worry too much about middle age, if I thought about it at all. I assumed that by the time I got there, so far into the future I couldn’t even imagine it, they would have “solved” menopause. Science, right? Moore’s law was exponentially increasing our processing capacity every year, advances were being made in genetics, or maybe I assumed because it was an easy way to dismiss the whole topic.

Whatever the reason, time has taught me that assumption was incredibly naive.

First, menopause doesn’t inconvenience ageing rich (white) men, who are the majority demographic of decision makers in academic institutions, corporations and government. As long as that’s the case, “solving” the menopause is never going to receive as much funding as solving erectile dysfunction, male pattern baldness or Alzheimer’s. Women’s place in society has improved, but we still have to fight prejudice while making sure our biology doesn’t inconvenience anyone.

Secondly, I vastly overestimated humanity’s medical abilities. My cancer treatment and my partner’s chronic pain condition have taught me that sure, medical scientists have achieved great things, vaccines, genetic treatment of life-destroying hereditary diseases, a variety of astonishing transplants and surgical procedures. But the human body is a complex organism with precious little diagnostics. A lot of medicine seems to be whacking at problems with a big stick, hoping they will go away, without quite understanding what did it. Another proportion is just the doctor offering a listening ear and a placebo.

Well, 20 years on they didn’t solve menopause. It has arrived. It’s possible that chemo destroyed most viable egg cells in my ovaries, speeding it up, or maybe it’s just my time.

You have probably heard about the biggest hits: mood swings, hot flashes, weight gain (check for the first two ones, no weight gain yet, but it’s early days). What I didn’t know is that it also fucks with your sleep. In the last week I’ve had at least two nights when I woke up 4 or 5 times. Any noise could do it, but also hot flashes, or waking up from what felt like a panic attack, heart racing.

I’ve always been a good sleeper, going to bed trusting that I would use my hours under the duvet to their maximum advantage. This is no longer the case - I prepare a book, a water bottle, ear plugs, eye mask, phone and headphones, and close my eyes hoping I’ll wake up the next morning, miraculously refreshed. But I open them again at 2 or 4 in the morning.

It’s no fun, and I’m going to see a doctor about it - the internets suggest that there are solutions, and at this point I’ll take any pointers. I might also look into solutions for sleep apnea, - apparently that’s also a definite contender for women my age. Snoring, sweating, rummaging about in the middle of the night - not massively fun for my partner either, but he’s remarkably patient about it (so far).

It’s not all doom and gloom. If I manage to survive the next few years mentally and physically more or less intact, there’s lots of anecdotal evidence that life post menopause is pretty good, actually. No more hormonal cycle! Bleeding is but the tip of the iceberg (so to speak). Like most cis women I’ve been living since puberty with a cyclical wave affecting mood, energy and libido. Menstrual trackers have improved the game immeasurably in terms of being able to predict and manage the effects - but it’s all about mitigation. Imagine! After the worst of menopause is over, I’m told that this wave will have settled to a placid, constant background! It sounds incredibly peaceful.

In the meantime, I just need to weather the storm. Like child birth, lots of women have survived it before me, so there’s good reason to think I can too - it’ll be fine, eventually.