Two gynaecologists told me to remove my uterus. I said no

They dismissed my perimenopause symptoms

I hadn’t even agreed to the surgery. I was still sitting with the shock of what the gynaecologist had just told me, that perimenopause “is not a real thing”.

It was like déjà vu. A few months ago, I had visited another gynaecologist, who had casually brushed off my perimenopause symptoms too. A staff member from her clinic had appeared outside the consultation room door with a brochure to walk me through the room plans and costs for my post-procedure hospital stay.

Nobody had asked me if I was actually having the hysterectomy. The gynaecologist and her team had, between them, decided that my only remaining choice was what kind of room I’d recover in afterwards.

It felt abrupt and inhumane. I couldn’t help but wonder if there was a quota for a certain number of hysterectomies they needed to record each year, and whether I was simply the next one on that list.

This is the story of how I spent the better part of a year being pushed towards a surgery I didn’t need, being told my perimenopause symptoms weren’t real, and learning, slowly, that I had to start advocating for myself.

Meeting mid-age puberty

I was in my early 40s when brain fog, hot flashes, and changes in my period flow began making themselves known. I would sweat in peak Bengaluru winter, and while my husband was freezing, I needed the fan to keep me from fully melting.

Perimenopause (the transitional stage before reaching menopause) can bring irregular periods, hot flashes, depression, and in some cases, insomnia. For me, the first sign was brain fog, which would occur right before and after my periods.

Having experienced brain fog when I had contracted COVID-19, I knew its signs well enough. I would have to read one sentence multiple times to understand it; I was forgetful and I often felt a mental resistance while I was going about my regular day. It was so frustrating and scary that my body couldn’t keep up with me.

The timing made everything harder. My long-standing gynaecologist, who knew my history, was retiring just as these first changes appeared. During our last appointment, she had reassured me I’d likely notice some shifts as I entered my mid-40s. What she hadn’t prepared me for was the doctors I’d encounter while looking for her replacement.

I am not someone who takes reproductive health lightly. Both sides of my family carry histories of uterine complications that lead to hysterectomies, and in some cases, cancer. Annual check-ups have always been a non-negotiable part of my life, also because I have diabetes.

They gave me only one option

A friend recommended a gynaecologist she’d consulted before. I made an appointment, hoping for clarity on my perimenopause symptoms and how I could manage them. My pre-consultation scans revealed a fibroid in my uterus. She addressed it and told me that it’s common for women to have one or two. But when I asked if my other symptoms could be due to perimenopause, she brushed it off without hesitation.

She had determined one treatment plan: a complete hysterectomy and oophorectomy (surgical removal of the uterus and both ovaries).

I sat with that for a moment, feeling relieved about never having to deal with a period anymore. A more anxious thought followed, because an early menopause would also mean dealing with the post-surgery hormones.

My family history pressed down on me. Three of my aunts had undergone hysterectomies. Maybe, I told myself, this was simply what happened in my family. I didn’t push back.

I asked for time to think. She agreed, though not because she thought I needed it. My blood sugar levels were too high for surgery at that point, so a three-month wait was medically necessary regardless.

What she never suggested was using that time to genuinely weigh the decision. I didn’t mind that she was being clinical and straightforward with me. I appreciate candour from my doctors, but I do wish that she had walked me through the procedure and asked if I had any questions regarding it. Instead, it felt as though I had no real choice at all.

The aunt who changed everything

Those three months turned out to be the most important of this entire experience. I was working with a diabetologist to bring my blood sugar to levels safe for surgery. And, by coincidence, I found myself in the United States during that period, where my aunt, a general practitioner, asked to look at my reports.

She didn’t hesitate. “You’re diabetic,” she said. “You’ve already been diagnosed with one hormonal disorder. A hysterectomy would not be the right answer for you unless there was absolutely no other option.”

The gynaecologist had known about my diabetes. She had never once flagged that this made the surgery significantly riskier for me.

When I returned to India, my new GP and diabetologist reached the same conclusion. For the first time in this whole experience, I felt like someone was actually on my side.

Déjà vu at the next consultation

I couldn’t go back to the first gynaecologist, so I kept searching. By now, my periods had escalated significantly; there was one episode where I bled heavily within a 10-day interval. New scans revealed a second fibroid and adenomyosis. When I brought up the possibility of it being perimenopause, she told me, it was not a real thing.

I felt so lost, and thought about how both of these gynaecologists, who looked like they were in their mid-50s, and perhaps went through similar symptoms, were just dismissing me.

When I raised my reluctance, her response was to tell me I should take three months to reconsider my decision, as though my hesitation was the problem, not the absence of any alternative.

Could HRT be the answer?

I went back to my GP and diabetologist (they were my most trusted advocates) and pushed them to help me find a different path. They had been coordinating with each other around my diabetes management; now I needed them to think beyond it.

My GP raised something neither gynaecologist had: hormone replacement therapy, or HRT, as a way to manage perimenopause symptoms. The challenge is that very few gynaecologists in India prescribe it, many citing concerns rooted in studies that have since been significantly revised, leading them to deem hormonal intervention unnatural or unsafe for women.

In perimenopause communities, however, HRT is increasingly discussed with genuinely positive results. When I weighed it against the hormonal consequences of a full hysterectomy, it felt far less drastic. Between the three of us, we found a gynaecologist who consults on HRT and prescribes it based on symptom severity. I haven’t seen her yet. But for the first time in this entire journey, I’m approaching a medical appointment with something that actually feels like hope.

What I carry forward

I have had the privilege to consult with multiple doctors, and I’ve been lucky to find a GP and diabetologist willing to go beyond their remit for me. An aunt in the US, herself a doctor, who looked at my reports and said what no one in the consultation room had thought to say. Many women facing a perimenopause misdiagnosis don’t have that network behind them, and I think about that often.

What I’ve learned is that it is completely acceptable to keep questioning a doctor’s recommendation when it doesn’t feel right for you. You are not being difficult. You are advocating for yourself, and that is entirely your right.

No symptom is too uncomfortable to discuss. The shame we’re taught to carry about our bodies, our cycles, our hormonal shifts doesn’t serve us. Every detail I shared openly with my doctors was a detail that helped them help me better.

Perimenopause is a normal part of life for people who menstruate. It is not a weakness, and you shouldn’t have to fight this hard to have it taken seriously.

As told to Jhanvi Adatia by Tweak reader Anjali Panikar

A note of caution: This is a personal story shared for educational purposes only. If you are experiencing symptoms, please seek guidance from a qualified medical professional.