HARD TRUTHS...

To be given the news that you've basically got the bones of an 80 year old when you're supposedly young and healthy isn't something I thought I'd have to worry about just yet. There were things on my worry list that were far more pressing: Will I ever get a mortgage or have a pension? Will I ever meet the man of my dreams? Will I ever not feel like I'm winging it in life? Will I ever finish my second book in time for the racing season as promised? Will I ever not be terrible at ironing? Will my energy bills ever go down? When should I start getting Botox? How will I continue to pay for all the things if work is quiet? Is World War 3 imminent? Those kinds of worries. Ranging from within my control to things way out of it. Certainly not worries of “what if I accidentally whack my funny bone and break my arm?” But sadly, things like that were now becoming genuine daily fears.

I tried not to get too ahead of myself until I got more information, which infuriatingly would take at least 61 weeks if I waited for the NHS. After some frank discussions with dad and a bit of research, we decided going private was the only option in order to start making progress and most importantly keep myself safe in the world. What CAN I do? Or absolutely MUST NOT do? (Probably not booking that skydive for one). I suddenly felt like I was out in the Wild West and life was now a real-time video game of getting to the next level without dying. Lucky for me there’s a designated Women's hormone, fertility and menopause clinic local to where I live. They have clinics all over the country yet it just so happened I’m right by the Northern one. After learning that bone health is directly linked with your hormones, I figured it was a good place to start!

*I probably should have said this at the start of the blog, but Gents- I will be talking about periods and ovaries in these coming blogs so if you want to run away screaming with your hands clamped over your eyes, now is a great time to do that.

Less than a week later I was booked in with one of their team of all female doctors and they were answering me things I’d been trying to get answered for years. Some of it I really didn't like what I was hearing… like I could not have scored any lower on my bone density scan. Holy crap! Yet I was so grateful to finally know what I was dealing with. We covered everything from period history, medications, previous health issues, family history, lifestyle and mental health to name a few. Before the consultation had even finished, it was screamingly obvious to my doctor what was happening with me, and she diagnosed me with POI: Premature Ovarian Insufficiency. (Yes, I also had to Google)

Basically, my ovaries had packed up and gone home early. This, combined with low estrogen and progesterone had caused years of absent periods, which meant calcium was being leeched from my bones for literally years, resulting in them becoming so brittle, only to be discovered when I snapped the biggest one just stepping down off the flippin’ pit wall! Oh, and as a result, I've entered into early menopause and need to start HRT immediately for (potentially) ever- if I am to have any hope of saving my bones.

CAN WE TAKE A BREATH??!!!

My head was exploding with all this new information. It was as though someone had finally connected the dots. I wanted to throw my arms around this wonderful doctor and give her a hug!

“This is all hugely impacted by stress also…” she continued. “How are your family relationships, personal and work life etc?”

“Well, I lost my mum 5 weeks after finding out she had three brain tumours on my birthday. Then broke my femur 3 months later and haven’t been able to work, so yeah pretty stressful.” I replied, almost numb to any more bad news. She looked at me, her eyes widened, and I think she now wanted to give me a massive hug.

“Gosh, you have been through a lot. I can tell you’re putting on a brave face, but it's OK not too.”

Don't cry now Sophie!!! Save it for the car journey home! I screamed at myself in my head. I don't think she realised how much she did for me in that moment. I felt lighter walking out of there. Apart from my head. That weighed an absolute ton now rammed with new major life changing information. There was a lot to unpack. As a young woman we're often told about breast cancer awareness, the importance of smear tests and talk about our periods, but no one ever talks to us about bone health. That's something way down the list along with worrying about the fact I don't have a pension. It's time we started talking about it!

So, I did. When my friend took me with him to a Supercar Driver event. Probably the most male dominated event I could have picked to discuss HRT, but I was pleasantly surprised when I found myself chatting to two other girls, both similar ages to me, with frighteningly similar problems. It took one of them eight years battling with the NHS to find out and be prescribed what I was given after just one appointment. Wow... it's good to know I wasn't alone in this. We swapped numbers and agreed to be each other's cheerleaders through the ups and downs of hormonal changes, as well as riding the anxiety waves or ‘snack attacks’ that seem to come out of nowhere.

Not to self: step away/ run/ save yourself from the jar of peanut butter or Nutella when these kick in.

I continued to shake my imaginary pompoms for myself over the little daily wins. Like attempting to wash my car for the first time since Femur-gate. Firing up the K4 and under diluting the snow foam because I love to make Pedro look like a giant marshmallow, had never felt so good! Quickly followed by feelings of pure frustration when I realised I still couldn't bend down enough to do my alloys. Annoyingly, my leg was a still a long way from the full range of motion to get low enough to do my stunning 20 inch Carrera S wheels justice. Forgive me Pedro!

Let's not forget another small yet big win; when I walked my first 10,000 steps in a day since surgery. I ventured to Liverpool to meet one of my besties who I met at DJ school 12 years ago. Doing what I had to do to keep myself in a good headspace was key, so a little drive out and a different city to stomp around was just what the doctor ordered. It was a perfect sunny Sunday and we strolled for hours round the docks then went for pancakes! It made me realise that no amount of brittle bones or wonky ovaries could take away the joy I feel from friendship, sunny strolls, sipping coffee, meeting new people, shiny Pedro and pancakes. My bones may be brittle but it doesn't mean I'm not a strong person, and I'm determined to still do cool, exciting things! I might just wear a T-shirt that says “Handle with Care!” while doing them.