And seeing as the entire menopausal process can last for decades, it seems unfair to expect people to navigate it without much guidance on their changing bodies and needs.
Which is why we spoke to licensed sexologist, relationship therapist and author at Passionerad, Sofie Roos, about how to establish a healthy sex life during and after menopause.
Here, she shared her seven rules:
1) Accept changes to your lust levels
“During and after the menopause, your lust tends to change. Some people get less interested in sex, while others [develop] a [stronger] desire,” Roos said.
Advertisement
“It’s also common to experience a different or deeper and more emotionally based lust than before.”
As much as possible, the sexologist advised, try not to “panic” about these changes.
“See it as a chance to discover something new, rather than trying to go back to how things used to be… if you can accept that things won’t be the same, you also open up the door for better pleasure than pre-menopause.”
2) Lube is your BFF
Vaginal dryness can increase during menopause thanks to changes in your oestrogen levels. This “tends to make sex uncomfortable, which puts many in a negative loop where they get less interested in sex due to it not feeling as good anymore,” Roos stated.
“Therefore, take the help of lube, ideally a silicone-based option of good quality, and make sure to use a lot – this will be a saviour!”
Advertisement
3) Take more time to warm up
Some research suggests that menopause may mean some people take longer to “get going” in the bedroom, as hormonal changes lead to different levels of sensitivity.
“This means that you should invest more time in foreplay, and switch up how you do it,” advised Roos.
“Try a sensual massage, kiss and cuddle longer, focus more on slow touches that build up in intensity, and don’t be afraid to take the help of sex toys such as vibrators, which can help blood to flow [more easily] to the vagina.”
Advertisement
4) Rediscover masturbation
Partnered sex is only one side of the equation here. Roos said menopause is a great opportunity to work out how to offer your own body what it needs, too.
“Discover new ways of turning yourself on, for example, by reading sex novels or watching new types of porn… invest in sex toys, especially vibrators, use lots of lube, and build up the pleasure [over] a longer time,” she stated.
“Also, be open to adapting and changing the way you masturbate based on how things feel and what works, and don’t give up if it takes some time to find solo sex that feels as amazing as before… You will get there eventually.”
Advertisement
5) Communicate with your partner
If you have a partner, they may benefit from learning about any changing needs, too, Roos said.
“Try to have a good, honest and respectful communication around intimacy. Boundaries and needs get even more important when the body changes, so make sure to open up [about] what feels good, what doesn’t work as it used to, and what you’re curious about trying.
“Invite and help your partner to help you have good sex, and don’t keep it to yourself, as that often leads to stress and anxiety, which is a real killer for [your] sex drive. It’s the two of you in this!”
6) Try pelvic floor exercises
“I really recommend strengthening the pelvic floor as that helps manage many menopause symptoms, especially symptoms related to sex… it leads to higher sensitivity, more pleasurable intimacy, and a better ability to orgasm,” said Roos.
Advertisement
A 2022 paper found that Kegels and lube both improved sexual function in menopausal women, with Kegels potentially being the more effective of the two.
7) Stay playful
It sounds obvious, but Roos said that remembering sex is meant to be fun is key to a better connection with your body – whether you’re pre-, post-, or mid-menopause.
“Switch the mindset of sex being something you need to perform, to it instead being a moment of emotional and physical intimacy, playfulness and… pleasure.
Advertisement
“The less pressure, the easier it is to find your own lust and sexiness during and after menopause,” she ended.
There are some wine “rules” that I, a non-expert, always believed all experts stood by – things like never putting ice in white wine and using the exact right glass for each drink.
Luckily, Lauren Denyer, a WSET School London wine educator, previously disabused me of those notions. Speaking to HuffPost UK, she said: “There is a certain amount of pretension that can come with wine, which can be very off-putting and often incorrect”.
Advertisement
But does that extend to what I thought was wine’s cardinal rule? In other words, are corked bottles always better than screw-top kinds?
Here’s what Lee Issacs, a WSET Educator Development Manager who previously taught us how to read a wine bottle, had to say on the topic.
Are corked wines always better?
“Seeking closure on a challenging life experience can often end with one needing a glass or two of wine,” the expert told us.
Advertisement
But, he explained, “Closure in wine… refers to how the bottle has been sealed”.
Wines can be closed by a variety of corks, including natural, synthetic, grainy, and even Champagne-specific types. They can also be closed with screw caps and, more rarely, crown caps.
“Thankfully,” Issacs said, “the days of people being judgmental and wary of screwcaps are almost completely behind us. The type of closure does not reflect the overall quality of the wine.”
In fact, the wine educator thinks even canned versions can hold their own these days.
“The days of canned wine just being a vehicle for any old naff alcohol” are gone, he wrote.
“As consumers globally look to moderate their alcohol intake, wine in cans are a great option.”
Advertisement
Why do different wines have different closures?
I was surprised to hear from Isaacs previously that “Most wines are made to be consumed without the need for ageing, and a good rule to follow is if the wine is particularly cheap and more than a year old, it may be a bit past it”.
That’s partly why screw caps are quite common.
“Screwcap wines tend to be designed for younger, fresher drinking, with cork stoppers still the choice for wines aiming to change and develop over time in bottle,” the pro advised.
“If nothing else, a screwcap bottle is easy to reseal and stick in the fridge to keep [for] the next day… and there’s no need for a corkscrew.”
Some experts think that, be it through the placebo effect of plain ol’ distraction, eating sour sweets may help those with anxiety through stressful smells.
And research suggests that the smell of mint can help those feeling tense, too.
A more seasonal smell, pine, has been linked to increased activity in the areas of the brain responsible for “judgment, feeling, motor activity of the frontal lobe, as well as the memory area of [the] temporal lobe,” too.
Advertisement
Speaking to the BBC, Baroness Kathy Willis, an Oxford University biodiversity professor, said that the smell of a pine forest can make you feel calmer in as little as 90 seconds; an effect which can last as long as 10 minutes.
But a paper from 2001 found that while the scent of pine might soothe us, it only does so in certain contexts.
Why might pine boost our mood?
A 2022 paper reads: “Unlike other senses, smells are unique in the mechanism with which they affect cognitive processes, and subsequently our emotions, memories, and perceptions of the world around us”.
Advertisement
That same paper said that woodland smells “affected multiple domains of wellbeing with physical wellbeing discussed most frequently, particularly in relation to relaxation, comfort, and rejuvenation” among participants.
But the 2001 paper we mentioned earlier suggests the smell of pine trees might have a different effect on us than, say, a pine-scented cleaner.
“Let’s say you have an essential oil, or a real tree or a chemical fabricated for a cleaning product. If a person is blindfolded and smells each of these samples, the perceptual experience would be the same,” neuroscientist at Brown University, Dr Rachel Herz, said she learned from the 2001 research she co-authored.
Advertisement
Speaking to Popular Science, she added, “Where context really comes into play is in the interpretation.
“If I’m standing in the bathroom opening a bottle of pine cleaner to clean the toilet, that pine smell is going to have a completely different connotation for me”.
She continued, “You could consciously experience that nostalgia, but what’s going to happen first is you’re going to have that mood boost, and that happy feeling… Then you might reflect on a memory of a time you went camping as a child, for example, but that is not necessary.”
Advertisement
In other words, the smell of pine, which Dr Herz describes as being very “psychological,” is likelier to boost your mood if you associate it with happy memories first.
As a result, pine trees, which could remind you of Christmas, may make you happier than a whiff of pine-scented floor cleaner.
Advertisement
Why do cleaning products smell of pine to begin with?
A 2022 BMJ article argued that though “the scent of pine in the home may now be predominantly artificial and the forest itself is absent, a strong connection remains with historical concepts that associate pine odour with health and cleanliness”.
That’s because, they suggested, “The influence of Germany as a pioneer of sanatorium treatment for tuberculosis led to mountainous and forested locations becoming seen as the ideal place for sanatoria”.
Those seeking treatment for conditions like tuberculosis in the UK, they posit, were then exposed to the “borrowed” concept of “therapeutic pine-infused air”.
Advertisement
And over time, doctors may have started to believe in an inherent cleanliness linked to the plant, a link that cleaning companies might have taken advantage of. Take health company Sanitas, they say, an 1879 advert from which reads: “The Health Giver; Or, the Pine Forest at Home”.
The authors added, “The continued use of pine in cleaners suggests that it has remained an indicator of cleanliness and still considered to smell ‘good’, even if it is gradually being usurped by other smells or even products that promise not to smell at all”.
“I feel the most empowered when I say no,” says Venus Cuffs, an alternative lifestyle expert based in New York City. Cuffs, who once worked as a dominatrix, is part of a lineage of Black femmes who have used their positions to reclaim power — a strategy we’ll unspool post haste.
Mistress Velvet, the late Black femme domme who famously made her white clients read bell hooks, understood the same thing: the queer art of sabotage isn’t about tearing things down. It’s about survival in the form of refusal, boundary and redirection.
Advertisement
“Me saying ‘no’ has been met with like, ‘How dare you?’ My refusal to participate is offensive to people,” Cuffs says, recalling the backlash she faced for refusing race play in predominantly white kink communities. Her words point to a familiar script: the demand that Black femmes be endlessly available, compliant or grateful. Her refusal interrupts that script.
For Cuffs, refusal is the point. Rejecting race play meant rejecting the broader cultural script insisting Black women perform whatever role is demanded of them. “Race is nothing to play about,” she says. That refusal was sabotage. But walking away from the scene allowed Cuffs to stay aligned with her integrity.
Cuffs’ “no” became the foundation for something new. Leaving the scene didn’t just protect her; it opened the door to a creative and personal realignment that became political resistance.
Advertisement
“I broke off from the main scene and started my own dungeon,” she recalls. “I decided I don’t need to deal with this, and neither does my community.”
She founded Spread, a 4,000-square-foot Brooklyn dungeon where queer BDSM practitioners could host sessions and hold power dynamics safely. Spread quickly gained traction. The choice to open it was a declaration as much as a business move: fuck you to exclusionary spaces, fuck yes to something better.
“Refusal means refusing to follow the path we have been told to walk when our instincts tell us otherwise,” Madison Young, a filmmaker and sex educator in the Bay Area, tells me. Queer refusal, they say, looks like “refusing to be someone more palatable in an effort to not cause a disruption. Refusing to be risk-averse.”
Advertisement
Where Cuffs and Velvet confront the racialised demands placed on Black femmes, Young’s dissent takes another form. As a white queer filmmaker, their refusals reject industry scripts demanding palatability and compliance. For Young, refusal has meant creating films and performances that defy neat labels — queer family-making, kink, submission — all centred on authenticity. “I think this is the inherent nature of queerness,” they say. “To exist outside of the lines and boxes drawn for us and to instead follow the path our heart, gut, soul are guiding us toward.”
If refusal is saying “no,” sabotage is building “yes.” Queer sabotage refuses harmful systems not simply for resistance, but to open space for something authentically queer and joyful to emerge.
Young does this through filmmaking. On their sets, they hire predominantly women, nonbinary, and trans crew. “It shifts the dynamic on set when it is a room full of women and queers,” they say. “I can choose whose stories I’m elevating, who I’m collaborating with.” These choices build queer community and disrupt industry norms.
Advertisement
Photo: Marina Green
For Madison Young, refusal has meant creating films and performances that defy neat labels — queer family-making, kink, submission — all centered on authenticity.
For Tracy Quan, a former escort and author of Diary of a Manhattan Call Girl, sabotage operates more subtly. “I viewed my novels more as a kind of entryism,” she says. Quan smuggles radical ideas into mainstream publishing by infiltrating oppressive spaces from within.
She points to Nancy Mitford, the British novelist who wove antifascist politics into frothy social comedies. “She was a serious antifascist who made the British government pay attention to her fascist sister,” Quan says. “She wrote witty novels that looked fluffy but carried sharp politics.” For Quan, writing sexy books that secrete away radical ideas felt like inserting feminist critique into commercial publishing.
Advertisement
If refusal protects integrity, sabotage extends it. Refusal shuts the door on the status quo. Sabotage opens a new one and creates conditions for a new yes, a yes rooted in creativity rather than compliance.
While Cuffs and Velvet resist the racialized demands placed on Black femmes, Young’s yes shows up in the work itself. “My heart tells me to make a feature film or a TV series or start a queer art gallery, and I just can’t do anything else,” they say. “The calling is strong and defies all logic.”
Early in Young’s career, the call sounded like chaos. “Any time I would even attempt to plug into the matrix, I would sabotage the situation. I just couldn’t do it,” Young explains. What looked like self-destruction was queer self-preservation: an inability to do “normal” — not for money, not for fame.
Advertisement
For Quan, sabotage also meant restraint. For decades, she withheld certain details of her personal life as a deliberate constraint. Instead of confession, she leaned into omission. That discipline, she explains, sharpened her craft. “When you have limits, when you have this denial kind of situation, it can really force you to be more creative,” she told me. What others see as a restriction, she frames as power.
Creating our own boundaries is one of the ways we carve out space for queer joy in a world determined to tell us which boundaries we are allowed to have. “When we state a boundary and work with refusal, we are making room for what we want more of,” Young says.
A no to the wrong collaborator opens a yes to the right one. Setting limits is a prophylactic. “We can protect our collective joy, our queer joy, our relationships, and our connections by being clear about our expectations and needs,” Young says.
Advertisement
Quan echoes that sentiment, describing constraints as creative pleasure rather than deprivation. “To me, creativity is a kind of power, like that’s the kind of power that I enjoy,” she says. For her, withholding shapes a more authentic vision.
Cuffs locates joy in boundaries even more explicitly — in reclaiming time, body, and power. Saying no, walking away from money, setting terms that feel good — each is a reclamation. “I don’t have to show up for anyone when I can’t show up for myself,” she says.
In a political moment defined by rampant transphobia, book bans targeting queer literature, legislative attacks on bodily autonomy, and the ongoing criminalization of sex work, boundaries and refusals are not just private choices. They are collective, political strategies. Our joy is political.
Advertisement
Mistress Velvet knew this when she turned her domme sessions into lesson plans, insisting white submissives grapple with Black feminist thought to earn her attention. Cuffs, Young and Quan know it when they walk away from exploitation, infiltrate hostile industries, or reshape the spaces they inhabit. Sabotage isn’t nihilism. It’s survival. It’s creativity. It’s care.
Cuffs leaves us with a reminder: “Do what feels right for you. Don’t be influenced by the amount of money, the amount of power, what other people tell you it should look like. Slavery is over.”
Having the occasional bad night’s sleep isn’t anything to worry about in and of itself, the NHS says.
But if the issue lasts a long time or starts to affect your day-to-day life, it could be worth speaking to a doctor, as this might be down to conditions like insomnia.
Advertisement
Still, those terms can be a little tough to navigate. How long is “a long time”? It feels like everyone complains about feeling tired – how can we tell “normal” fatigue from sleep-disorder-level exhaustion?
Here, doctor and Fellow at the Royal College of Anaesthetists, Dr Sunny Nayee, shared the “3-3-3 rule” he uses to tell bad sleep from a more lasting issue.
What is the “3-3-3 rule”?
“If you experience disrupted sleep at least three nights a week for at least three months, medical practitioners no longer regard it as lifestyle related but in the realm of insomnia,” Dr Nayee said.
Advertisement
He encourages those concerned to ask themselves three questions:
Do you experience poor sleep for a minimum of three nights?
Have you experienced poor sleep hygiene for at least three months?
Does poor sleep impact at least three aspects of your day (fatigue, brain fog, changes in mood, lack of concentration).
After all, he stated, insomnia is usually measured by how you feel in the daytime, not what you struggle with at night.
“A common misconception is that people think insomnia is staring at the ceiling and not sleeping at all,” he wrote.
Advertisement
“However, it’s defined by the impact it has throughout the day. If you find that poor sleep hygiene is having an instrumental impact on your mood, concentration and ability to function, then it may be considered a clinical condition.”
What if I think I have insomnia?
Per the NHS, insomnia is not a life sentence: it is often linked to stress, booze, a poor sleeping setup, or rooms that are too hot or cold, and “usually gets better by changing your sleeping habits”.
Advertisement
The health service recommends going to bed at the same time every day, exercising regularly, ensuring your room is dark and quiet, using comfortable bedding, and unwinding for at least an hour before bed, ie by reading a book.
If changing your sleep habits doesn’t work, if your sleep issues have been going on for months, and/or if your insomnia is “affecting your daily life in a way that makes it hard for you to cope,” speak to your GP.
But I have to confess that the first time I saw a TikTok advising me to read on a treadmill in order to finish my book faster, I thought, “That might be a literal step too far”.
Advertisement
To be honest, the combination sounded a little overwhelming to me. Still, it seems science may be on the side of the viral health fad.
Some studies suggest that staying active can boost your creativity, while even a short walk could help you to stay more alert ― sounds like a great recipe for immersing yourself in, and enjoying, a novel, right?
We asked Dr Suzanne Wylie, GP and medical adviser for IQdoctor, whether she’d prescribe the combo.
Should we all be “treadmill walking”?
“Treadmill reading is an interesting idea that may offer some benefits, but it also comes with caveats,” the GP told HuffPost UK.
Advertisement
“Walking, even at a slow pace, has clear benefits for cardiovascular health, circulation, mood, stress reduction, and sleep. Combining light walking with reading could allow you to fit in some physical activity while engaging your mind.”
But, she cautioned, pairing the two activities could prove a little overwhelming.
“Reading while walking places a dual demand on your attention, as you need to focus both on the text and on maintaining your balance and posture. This can make reading less efficient and may reduce comprehension,” she stated.
“There is also a small risk of strain or minor accidents if the treadmill speed is too fast or if posture is poor.”
Advertisement
And “While light walking can boost alertness and mood,” Dr Wylie pointed out that “it does not necessarily improve focus or the ability to perform complex cognitive tasks”.
How should you try treadmill walking?
“In practical terms, if someone wants to try treadmill reading, it is best to keep the pace slow and steady, maintain good posture, and avoid reading at speeds or inclines that challenge balance,” Dr Wylie ended.
Advertisement
“It should be seen as a light, optional way to stay active rather than a replacement for dedicated reading or exercise. For relaxation or mild stress relief, combining gentle movement with reading may be helpful, but for deeper reading or learning, sitting quietly is likely to be more effective.”
She ended, “Treadmill reading offers some modest benefits but is not a guaranteed way to improve focus”.
If I told you a recent study showed that a majority of modern dog species have wolf DNA, you’d probably mutter something along the lines of “shocker: fork found in kitchen”.
Except that the research, published in Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences (PNAS), found that just two-thirds of modern dogs have detectable wolf DNA – and it is likely not an ancient remnant from their wilder ancestor, from which they separated tens of thousands of years ago.
Advertisement
Instead, it seems that the gene may have come from more recent interbreeding between dogs and wolves within the last few thousand years.
In fact, the study reads, “Ancient [dog] genomes from the Roman era… show no evidence of wolf ancestry… nor has wolf ancestry been detected in ancient dogs in the Arctic or the pre-colonial America”.
Still, study co-author Logan Kistler, a curator of archaeobotany and archaeogenomics at the National Museum of Natural History, told AFP this doesn’t mean “wolves are coming into your house and mixing it up with your pet dog”.
Advertisement
What are some “wolfish” dog traits?
In a statement, the study’s lead author, Audrey Lin, said: “Modern dogs, especially pet dogs, can seem so removed from wolves, which are often demonised.
“But there are some characteristics that may have come from wolves that we greatly value in dogs today and that we choose to keep in their lineage.”
Some characteristics often linked to high-wolf DNA breeds, the study reads, include:
Suspicious of strangers
Independant
Dignified
Alert
Loyal
Territorial,
While lower-wolf DNA breeds were more associated with being:
Easier to train
Eager to please
Courageous
Lively
Affectionate.
Traits like obedience, intelligence, being good with children, dedication, calmness, and cheerfulness seemed evenly distributed among both groups.
Advertisement
This study stressed, though, that these associations, which came from kennel clubs, could not definitely be linked to wolf genes themselves.
Which dog breeds are the most and least ‘wolfish’?
This research found that Czechoslovakian and Saarloos wolfdogs have the most detectable wolf DNA (up to 40%).
Advertisement
The great Anglo-French tricolour hound had an impressively high percentage for a “breed” dog – 4.7-5.7% – while Shiloh shepherds have 2.7%.
The Tamaskan, bred in the UK in the ’80s, has 3.7% wolf ancestry. Even chihuahuas have 0.2%, which, Lin joked, likely “makes sense” to their owners.
Surprisingly, bigger breeds like St Bernards have zero wolf DNA. The same goes for the Neapolitan mastiff and bullmastiff.
Advertisement
In general, detectable wolf ancestry is higher for bigger dogs and dogs bred for certain jobs, like Arctic sled dogs, “pariah” dogs, and hunting dogs.
But on average, terriers, gundogs, and scent hounds have lower wolf DNA.
As Kistler shared in a statement: “Dogs are our buddies, but apparently wolves have been a big part of shaping them into the companions we know and love today.”
As if thinking of what to eat in the week wasn’t hard enough, then comes the challenge of actually cooking the meals. When will the injustice end?!
Still, thanks to people like Redditor u/DanielQ_bu7, we can at least work out the least amount of effort we need to expend for the best possible results.
Advertisement
In a post shared to r/Cooking, the poster recently asked respondents to share meals which take next to no effort but which never fail to impress loved ones and guests.
Here are some of our favourite responses:
1) “Roast chicken. So easy and smells amazing when roasting.”
“A friend of mine sautées mushrooms, then piles them on top of the brie and wraps it all in [clingfilm] and puts it in the fridge for a couple of days,” AndSomehowTheWine2 responded.
“Then unwrap the [clingfilm], wrap in puff pastry, and bake. The mushroom flavour just infuses [into] the brie, and it is all DELICIOUS.”
“Julia Child’s recipe is my favourite. It’s really easy, and people LOVE it,” replied u/DaCouponNinja.
4) “Tiramisu.”
“My family thinks it is some sort of miracle that I make it. I think it’s amazing that it’s so simple (I guess it could be complicated if I made the ladyfingers myself).”
During the UK’s recent snowy and icy spell, you might have tried salting your driveway to prevent, or “melt”, ice.
That likely works because of an ongoing battle between water and ice on the top layer of a slippery sheet. Sodium’s structure means its ions break apart in water, making it harder for H2O molecules to stick together – thus lowering the melting point of ice.
Advertisement
Until recently, most scientists thought that a thin layer of water on ice was to blame for its slipperiness, too. The idea was that pressure or friction applied to ice led its top layer to melt, leaving a slick film of liquid.
The water theory might not explain why ice stays slippery in temperatures well below freezing, The Conversation previously noted.
Scientists at Saarland University in Germany wanted to explore why that might be. So, they ran molecular simulations of ice interfaces through advanced computer systems to see if they could work out what was really going on.
Advertisement
In a press statement, study author Professor Martin Müser said: “It turns out that neither pressure nor friction plays a particularly significant part in forming the thin liquid layer on ice”.
Their research suggested that instead, something happens to the strict molecular structure needed to keep ice solid when we step on it, thanks to molecular dipoles.
Advertisement
What are molecular dipoles, and why might they make ice slippery?
Molecular dipoles happen, Saarland University explained, when “a molecule has regions of partial positive and partial negative charge, giving the molecule an overall polarity that points in a specific direction”.
Ice relies on a very neat and exact crystalline formation of molecules in order to stay solid.
But when we, for instance, step on ice, the direction of the dipoles in our shoe sole interacts with those in the ice, this study suggested.
That means the previously-perfect structure of ice crystals falls apart.
“In three dimensions, these dipole-dipole interactions become ‘frustrated,’” Professor Müser explained.
Advertisement
This, Saarland University said, refers to “a concept in physics where competing forces prevent a system from achieving a fully ordered stable configuration”.
What does this mean?
Well, for one thing, it could mean that skiing at very cold temperatures is more possible than we previously thought.
“Until now, it was assumed that skiing below -40°C is impossible because it’s simply too cold for a thin lubricating liquid film to form beneath the skis. That too, it turns out, is incorrect,’ said Professor Müser.
Advertisement
“Dipole interactions persist at extremely low temperatures. Remarkably, a liquid film still forms at the interface between ice and ski – even near absolute zero,” he added, though at this temperature the liquid may be too viscous to actually facilitate much movement.
Saarland University noted that the implications of this discovery are yet to be fully seen, though the “scientific community is taking notice”.
What’s the capital of Canada? Uh-oh. Ottawa? Do Americans typically know that?
I tried to respond to my new internist, but the answers didn’t flow from me. Each one caused a stutter the size of Mariana Trench — and it terrified me.
Plus, I was twitching so badly, my arms were practically useless.
I’d been in the hospital for a month. Zach, my husband, was at home in our apartment taking care of my newborn baby with my mother. It wasn’t easy for them: small apartment, new baby, one bathroom, my life hanging in the balance.
Advertisement
For the last few weeks, I’d been cycling in and out of the ICU. Zach had even gotten “the talk” — a doctor had called in the thick of the night to tell him that I might not make it home. Many thought I would likely not survive. They didn’t fully know what was wrong with me, except that everything was going wrong with me.
Four weeks earlier, I had my baby by C-section. Moments later, I was rushed into another surgery because my vitals started to plummet and I was bleeding out rapidly.
I didn’t even get to hold my baby. There was no skin-on-skin — only chaos, panic, and then I didn’t wake from my anesthaesia. It was a living nightmare. I did wake up eventually, and four days after giving birth, I finally met my daughter before she went home — without me.
Advertisement
After having my baby, I endured three rounds of ICU intubation, multiple abdominal surgeries, a body full of blood clots, heart failure and kidney failure with a dash of severe sepsis and pneumonia and a long list of other scary conditions I’d never want to Google. I was a forever-changed, half-dead person.
Once I was removed from the ventilator for the final time — and I was able to speak again — a rotating cast of doctors visited me every day, and told me different things about my condition. It felt like some absurdist theatre play. I had practically the same conversation over and over and over in a spin cycle of frustration and a maze of murky next steps.
My case was especially challenging because I had so many bodily systems failing and that required a slew of doctors. I had a fetal maternal medicine team, residents, an internist, a cardiologist, a hematologist, a nephrologist, an infectious disease specialist, a pulmonologist, a surgical team and maybe a few others I’ve forgotten.
Advertisement
“I’m a project manager at my day job, and you all have got to get organised working across fields,” I complained to one of my many physicians. “Everyone is telling me something different.”
In response to my speaking up, my doctors finally put a text chain together so they could all communicate in one place.
It’s possible that text chain saved my life — and it may never have been created if I hadn’t said something.
Advertisement
Photo by Becca Murray
“This is a moment from my nine months on dialysis in 2022,” the author writes.
I realised, if I was going to live, I’d have to project-manage my recovery. I had power. I could assert myself. My doctors cared deeply about my survival, so I reasoned it was time to start asking them for what I needed instead of passively riding my tidal wave of medical torment. My skin was grey and my kidneys didn’t work, but I wasn’t weak — not where it counted the most. I had my mind and I had my voice back, so I needed to use it.
I was many tests away from an official diagnosis but my wise haematologist had a theory that I have a particularly nasty disease called atypical haemolytic uremic syndrome, or aHUS. It’s wildly rare and kills a lot of people who get it. The disease strikes women in particular because it often hides in the body until a trigger — like pregnancy — sets it off.
Advertisement
After a few stable days, I began to feel a progressively increasing shake and stutter in my body. I tried to project manage by sharing my new symptoms with my doctors. “This isn’t me,” I said. “Something else is really wrong.”
My newly assigned internist told me it might be a side effect of my medicine. Other doctors suggested I was stressed and recommended I take clonazepam to ease my anxiety.
Suddenly, a few hours later, everything in my perception began mysteriously repeating three times in a row, like being stuck in a horrific deja vu loop, and then I could no longer speak.
Advertisement
It turned out my body was poisoning my brain with toxins because my kidneys were failing. I desperately needed dialysis, but there were no machines available at this massive cutting-edge hospital… and my nightmare continued longer than it should have.
I was beyond angry and frustrated. Despite constantly keeping my many providers apprised of my symptoms, I was now at the point of toxic encephalopathy and experiencing aphasia and nervous system tremors with deja vu.
Why had I been dismissed when I spoke up about the warning signs I was experiencing?
The data doesn’t look fondly on the system. A 2009 study showed middle-aged women with the same heart disease symptoms as men were twice as likely to be diagnosed with a mental health issue. The Journal of American Heart Association found that women possibly experiencing a heart attack wait 29% longer in ERs than men.
Advertisement
Recently, the CDC reported 1 in 5 women experience mistreatment during their pregnancies, and the stats are markedly worse for Black women, resulting in higher rates of tragic maternal mortality.
I know that doctors often have it rough in a broken system. I sympathise with their challenges and fatigue. But it should be on the medical industry and educational institutions — not patients — to make strides to overcome these pressures.
I am also not saying we should always distrust our doctors. I believe in science and I believe in their training and expertise. But after everything I experienced, I now know there are ways patients can better support our providers, and I know that engaging with them and playing an active role in our care is not only vital — it can mean the difference between life and death.
Advertisement
Now, I approach health care differently.
Courtesy of Taylor Coffman
The author on vacation with her husband and daughter.
While doctors certainly have knowledge and training that I do not, I am an expert on myself. We work together and truly listen to each other to make the best decisions about how to treat my conditions. I urge them to communicate in a clear way that helps me understand exactly what is happening and I continue to voice my concerns until I am satisfied that they understand what I’m experiencing.
When I know something is wrong, but I’m not sure exactly what, I become a researcher. I organize a list of bullet points about what I am feeling in the notes app on my phone and bring it to my appointment.
Advertisement
I also do my homework. Though many doctors say they hate it when patients look for information on the internet — and Googling symptoms can lead to trouble — a new study shows it may not be as harmful as once thought, and there are many great digital resources to consult.
If I want a test or procedure that a doctor doesn’t agree I need, I ask them to annotate my request in the notes. Written records have weight. I also often ask medical professionals if it’s okay to record the appointment using my phone’s voice memo recorder.
When we see doctors, we’re often overwhelmed by all of the information we’re receiving and the big emotions we’re feeling and it’s amazing how much we can miss.
Advertisement
My current doctors are invested in my care and I like them all. But, at the end of the day, it’s a relationship based on their ability to keep me well. If I don’t see progress, I get a second opinion, and it’s okay if they know that. It’s not personal. These doctors often end up consulting each other.
Most people don’t want to be a squeaky wheel, but be a squeaky wheel. Research showsbeing an empowered patient can improve health outcomes. I respect boundaries and I’m kind, but I’m insistent. If I commit to a plan with the doctor, I don’t slack. It’s not always easy, but when I’m doing everything that’s asked of me, if a treatment doesn’t work, then it’s not on me.
Five grueling weeks after giving birth, I finally went home to my baby. It turned out that my hematologist was right — I do have aHUS.
Advertisement
Today, I’m doing quite well by chronic rare disease standards. There is no cure for aHUS, but it’s one of the very few rare diseases with an approved treatment. After nine months of dialysis, my kidney regained some function and left me with stage 3 kidney disease. I currently get infusions every eight weeks to keep my aHUS from causing more damage, but otherwise, I’m busy being a mom to my active toddler.
While the experience was a roller coaster, I did find my voice in that hospital bed. I learned the importance of advocating for my needs and, most crucially, to trust myself when something is wrong.
This piece was originally published in February 2024 and is being rerun as part of HuffPost Personal’s “Best Of” series.
Taylor Coffman is a multi-hyphenate creative from the East Coast. As an actor, Coffman has recurred on HBO’s “Silicon Valley” directed by Mike Judge, CBS’s “Life in Pieces,” Rachel Dratch’s “Late Night Snack,” and has appeared in Ryan Murphy’s “FEUD.” Behind the scenes, she worked for many years at Jimmy Kimmel Live; one of the nation’s most listened-to NPR stations, KPCC; and in podcasting at LAist Studios. She lives in Santa Monica with her musician husband, Dustbowl Revival’s Zach Lupetin, her daughter and a very needy rescue dog named Sunny.
