Today, October 18, is World Menopause Day.

When I was growing up, menopause was a word rarely spoken aloud. It was cloaked in euphemism and silence, even in health and care settings. Thankfully, in recent years, that silence has begun to lift. Thanks to the advocacy of women like Davina McCall and countless others, menopause is now part of our public discourse.

But awareness is only the beginning.

Menopause is not simply a biological milestone. It is a deeply personal transition, one that touches identity, dignity, and wellbeing. For many, it is a time of hot flushes and sleepless nights, but also of anxiety, loss of confidence, and changes in cognition and memory. It can be a time of liberation, but also of stigma and invisibility.

And in the world of ageing and social care, menopause is not something left behind in middle age. Its effects ripple forward into later life. Bone health, cardiovascular disease, mental wellbeing, and cognitive function – all are shaped by the hormonal shifts of menopause.

Recent research has shown that menopause, particularly the transition phase, is associated with accelerated biological ageing across multiple organ systems, with liver, metabolic, and kidney health most affected. Earlier menopause is linked to increased risks of osteoporosis, dementia, and heart disease.

This means that in our care homes, in our communities, and through our homecare services, we are supporting women who live with the long-term consequences of menopause. Yet too often, their discomforts are dismissed as “just age.” Their histories go unacknowledged. Their symptoms – urinary issues, sexual health concerns, mood changes – are rarely validated.

A truly rights-based approach to care demands that we take women’s health across the life course seriously – from puberty to post-menopause.

But menopause is not only about those we care for. It is also about those who care.

The majority of Scotland’s social care workforce are women. Many are in their 40s and 50s – precisely the ages when menopausal change is most present. The demands of care work are physical and emotional. Night shifts, lifting, relentless schedules. Add to this the brain fog, the sweats, the fatigue, the anxiety of menopause, and you begin to see why staff support is not a luxury – it is a necessity.

Recent guidance from Skills for Care reveals that 77% of women experience menopausal symptoms, with nearly a quarter reporting them as severe. 44% say their ability to work is affected. One in ten have considered leaving their job due to menopause. These are not statistics. These are stories of women who give so much compassion to others yet often receive little in return.

If we value care, we must value carers. That means creating workplaces where menopause is not whispered about but understood. Where adjustments are made. Where compassion is shown. Where women feel safe to speak, and managers are equipped to listen.

Menopause is not a footnote in the story of ageing. It is a chapter of transformation. And in a Scotland that values human rights, care, and compassion, it is a chapter we must no longer ignore.

World Menopause Day is more than awareness. It is a call for cultural change. A call to honour the contribution of women across the life course. A call to ensure that healthcare, social care, and workplaces are aligned in recognising the impact of menopause and offering practical, humane support.

This is not marginal. It is central.

To ignore menopause is to ignore the lives of millions of women – our mothers, our colleagues, our carers, our friends. Let us listen. Let us learn. Let us lead with empathy.

I leave you with a poem, shared by menopause advocate Tass Smith, which captures the emotional truth of menopause in a way that clinical language cannot. It speaks to the unpredictability, the loss of confidence, and the haunting repetition of symptoms that many women experiences. It is a reminder that menopause is not just a medical condition – it is a lived reality, and one that deserves to be seen, heard, and supported.

She Loves Me, She Loves Me Not

She loves me.

By day she sits, quietly, by my side.

My night cool and restful.

She loves me not.

She laughs mockingly in my face.

And it burns.

The fog descends, and with it, my capacity to think.

I’m a rabbit caught in the headlights.

I stumble, blindly through the day, tears pricking my eyes.

She’s packed away my self-esteem.

My courage fails me.

Meltdown.

The night brings no solace.

Her furnace stoked.

I lie awake, haunted by the nightmare of my day’s ineptitude.

I’m stuck on repeat.

Oh she tells me it’s just my age; a phase to go through.

That my hormones will, eventually, settle down.

Bring on that day.

 

Taken from https://lifenow.uk/blog/the-raw-truth-of-menopause

 

Donald Macaskill