The Perimenopause Husband
The Headaches That Scared Us Both: When Perimenopause Looks Like Something Worse
The first time it happened we did not think much of it. She felt off. Dizzy. A bit of blurred vision. Numbness creeping into her arms.
We put it down to one of those days where the body just does not feel right for no obvious reason. It turned into a proper headache, bad enough that she had to lie down and sleep it off. A couple of hours and it passed. A one off. We moved on.
Then it happened again. Same order. The dizziness first, then the blurred vision, then the numbness, building into a headache severe enough to take her out completely. Lying down. Sleeping. Waiting for it to lift.
That was when we said, right, you need to see the doctor.
Can perimenopause really cause headaches like this?
The GP ran tests and found her iron was low, along with a few other things worth keeping an eye on. The kind of result that explains something but not everything. We decided that was probably it, or close enough to it, and we got on with the year.
It kept happening. Not daily. More like once a month at that stage. But every time it landed, it landed hard.
There was one occasion the kids and I were downstairs and she had that feeling come on upstairs by herself. My wife has never wanted to be a burden to anyone, so her first instinct was to say she would be fine, she just needed to lie down. She did not tell us the full extent of what she was feeling.
It was only when I went up to check on her properly that I realised it was a long way past fine.
What did I get wrong while it was happening?
I took her word for it.
That is the honest version. She said she would be fine and I let that be the end of it, because it was the easier answer and because she said it with enough steadiness to be believable. She did not go to hospital that time. By her own account afterwards, it had been bad enough to warrant it.
I wish I had pushed harder, earlier. That is the part I would take back.
Blokes tend to treat "I'm fine" as information. In this stretch it is not information. It is a woman who does not want to be a problem for her family, managing something frightening on her own, in a bedroom above a house full of people who would have driven her anywhere she asked.
What did the specialist actually say?
It went on for about a year. Somewhere around half a dozen episodes.
So I drew a line. I told her, the next time this happens, whether I am home or the kids are home or it is just you, we are calling an ambulance. No driving yourself. No waiting it out alone.
The next time it happened I was home. I asked her how she was feeling. She said she had that feeling. We went straight to emergency. They ran their tests, bloods, the lot, and came back with nothing conclusive. Back to the GP, and from there a referral to a neurologist. Scans of her brain had already been done by then, and we had been told there were things in there worth a specialist's eyes. Nothing to panic about yet. Enough to take seriously.
We sat with that for a while. The not knowing. The same symptoms still turning up on their own schedule.
When we finally got in, the neurologist went through every scan and every result. Then he started asking questions that surprised us both, questions that were not really about the brain at all. Was she still getting her periods. What else had been going on for her, physically and emotionally, over the past while.
He already suspected what this was before he said it out loud.
Nothing alarming in the scans. In his assessment she was now a migraine sufferer, something she had never been in her life before that point. He said what she had been going through fit a pattern he saw connected to the change she was moving into, and that the dizziness, the blurred vision and the numbness could all ride in alongside it.
He also told her plainly that they had ruled out multiple sclerosis. That word had been sitting at the back of both our minds the whole time without either of us ever saying it out loud.
Why does this one matter more than the rest?
Because perimenopause is not one thing.
It is not a mood. It is not a hot flush. It is not a bit of forgetfulness you can joke about at a barbecue. Menopause and the years leading into it can show up in places you would never connect to it, including a neurology clinic, being checked for something far more serious than what it turned out to be.
Having a name for it did not fix it. It changed it though. She went from an unexplained, frightening thing with no edges to something with a category and a doctor's explanation attached.
What can a husband actually do about it?
One thing, and do it before the next episode, not during.
Draw the line out loud, together, while she is well. Say the words. Next time this happens we are not waiting it out alone, we are getting you seen, and I am coming with you.
That is it. Say it on a good day so it is already agreed on a bad one. It takes the decision away from a woman who is dizzy, frightened and trying not to be a burden, and puts it on the two of you, in advance, when she can think straight.
And then go with her. Sit in the waiting room. Be in the appointment. Doctors ask better questions when there are two of you in the room, and she does not have to carry the whole account of it on her own.
When should we see a doctor about this?
If any of this is happening in your house, see a doctor. Not a search bar, not a mate at work, not a bloke's blog. A doctor. If it keeps coming back after that, push through to a specialist and do not let it drift.
Since the neurologist, and since we changed a few things about stress and rest around our house, we have had one minor episode and nothing close to what it used to be. I cannot promise that is the whole reason. I do know that paying proper attention to her, instead of waiting for the next emergency, is part of it.
You said you would be there for the hard parts when you made your vows. This is one of them. Do not go quiet on her now.
Start With the Weather
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