Ever since I gave birth to Eliza, over twenty years ago, I’ve had that one calamitous period day every month where I’ve not wanted to stray too far from the house because of the risk of sudden flooding. It was expected and I coped with it but I have flooded all over the place and I wrote about that in a blog post some years ago.

A few months before I moved to Hong Kong, my body started to change. I had a couple of spells of prolonged bleeding; my weight ballooned and I started getting headaches. My blood pressure increased dramatically and having been a regular, if slow and unenthusiastic runner, I suddenly couldn’t walk up the gentle incline at the end of my road without feeling out of breath.

My GP in the UK ran a few blood tests. My hormone levels were normal but my ferritin – that is the substance that stores oxygen – were quite low, at a level of 4 Ng/ml rather than 40 as it should be. She ascribed the headaches and high blood pressure to stress at the prospect of moving overseas. I was not looking forward to moving away from home, friends and family. As for the bleeding: there was obviously a change happening in my body but she couldn’t say what it was. She prescribed iron, advised me not to do any strenuous exercise and wished me well.

Eventually my iron levels crept up to low normality in Hong Kong, where I continued to gain weight and think about nothing else. I had a couple of long, unpredictable and heavy periods but then these returned to normal, gradually becoming more and more spaced out. I eventually restarted my running, lost a lot of weight and felt good. My periods were often longer, around 10 days, but the interval between them had lengthened to 40 or 50 days, so it was all fine and manageable.

My running became faster and I had much more stamina. I’d heard such horror stories from perimenopausal friends, about depression, psychosis, constant bleeding, hot flushes. I was hoping that I’d be one of those people whose periods suddenly stopped and who had no hormonal side effects at all. I felt great, looked great.

Then earlier this year I started having to stop and rest, exhausted mid-run. I’d worked so hard to bring up my fitness levels and now I had no idea why I suddenly could not run for an hour, 45 minutes. Alarmed, I had a few blood tests done, which diagnosed low level hypothyroidism but also that my ferritin levels were again really low. My GP in Hong Kong, surprised that I was still having periods at all at my age, prescribed iron again to ease my general exhaustion and my ferritin levels started to rise.

Then, in July I had the first of three prolonged spells of bleeding at far shortened intervals. In fact, I’ve only had  34 flow-free days in total in the 82 since the end of July. The last phase was particularly horrendous, lasting 26 days. They’re unpredictable and sporadic too. Just as you think the flow is easing, back it comes again, regrouped and mocking.

I bled without realising it over the massage table during my birthday staycation and a very kind and attentive massage therapist at The Peninsula brought me a sanitary towel. I was embarrassed but she was so gentle and matter-of-fact about it. That’s what I call attentive service.

You feel so ashamed at not being able to manage your periods after 43 years of them. I’ve been using a mooncup for more than 10 years, with limited success, but I’d persevered often using absorbent, washable period pants instead because I was trying to do my best for the environment. Everything still leaks. A lot. Just recently I purchased the newer design of mooncup (above,) thinking that it would be able to cope better with my retroverted uterus. It did not. Ironically that’s probably now in landfill too.

I’d hoped, decided, that the prolonged spell of bleeding in July and then in August must be the end of it for at least a few weeks. Maybe my periods had finally stopped completely – hooray!

But back came the bleeding suddenly after only three weeks and I resorted to ten year old boxes of tampons and sanitary towels that I’d stocked in the house for Eliza – she was not going to have the same problems as I’d had –  reasoning that the environment might forgive me if I used just a few of them. I’ve now found myself buying new boxes of environmentally-wasteful applicator tampons and even towels that can cope with both heavy flow and incontinence. Ladies! Who knew that such a sexy thing existed?

Travelling compounds the problem. I didn’t bring all of my absorbent and washable period pants, because they take ages to dry and so would be difficult to cope with in suitcases for 11 weeks. Of all the hotels I’ve stayed in during the last few weeks only this one in Vancouver has even acknowledged the existence of travellers with periods by providing sanitary bags in the bathroom.

In Montreal I had to describe the concept of a sanitary disposal bag to an uncomprehending reception desk manager. His reply was that Quebec province, and the hotel, was trying to limit its single use plastics. Indirectly this policy exacerbates the aggravation for women travellers. It’s not pleasant either for the housekeeping staff to have to deal with bins of soiled tampons and sanitary towels wrapped in toilet paper, is it? Mind you, the housekeeping cleaners are likely to be badly-paid women who don’t feel able to complain or influence. My solution was to buy dog poo bags, presumably not banned or limited, and  use those instead. So much for gender being 100% socially-determined (ie nothing to do with biological function), as one of my kin intoned. I’d like to see him cope with perimenopause.

A couple of weeks ago I went upstairs to my hotel room after dinner in the restaurant with James and his girlfriend and, coming out of the lift suddenly felt just like I did when my waters had broke before I gave birth to James only this time with blood. I was leaving Montreal the next day and spent over an hour late that night trying to to dry my rinsed-out jeans with a weak hotel hairdryer.

Luckily the bleeding stopped a day or two before I embarked on my The Canadian journey. Goodness only knows how I would have coped with heavy bleeding and sudden flooding on there.

What I think is happening – and please feel free to Fact Check me on this, my doctor friends – is that my body is no longer making progesterone while continuing to make estrogen and it’s this hormonal imbalance and lack of structure to the lining of my womb that’s causing the prolonged bleeding.

I still feel drained, literally and metaphorically. My ferritin must be pretty much near zero after all of that bleeding. I’m still trying to exercise and keep fit and trim, especially in the face of all of these Canadian carb-filled meals, but I’m exhausted after 25 minutes at a gentle pace.

I’m still three weeks away from my Hong Kong GP but I intend to make an appointment with her as soon as possible. A couple of my friends have urged me to consider a hysterectomy. Losing my uterus seemed like a drastic solution to what ought to be a time-limited problem but I am going to give it some serious thought. Putting a final stop to all of this bleeding is a very tempting proposition.

I had no idea about any of this because it’s hardly ever talked about and even then in whispers and Direct Messages. It’s my view that we need to smash this taboo and talk about it more with our partners and children. Goodness knows, women somehow become invisible in their 40s and it’s like we’re expected to give up and fade away gracefully into obscurity, our needs unmet. I think we need to change that and this post is my small contribution.

I’m worked so hard to become the fittest I’ve ever been in my life and I’m not ready to give up yet. Sensible shoes, floral skirts and anoraks might have their place but they are not going to find a home in my wardrobe just yet. I am not going to let perimenopause hammer me into obscurity. Nope.