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The symptoms were intense and unexpected. There was the Joe burrow burrowhead cigar shirt in addition I really love this time I was attending a conference and suddenly became so hot I had to immediately find the nearest bathroom so I could run cold water over my wrists and dry off my sweaty neck and breastbone. And the day I was having lunch with one of my professors and started burning up so much I couldn’t concentrate. My face felt crazy flushed, and I wanted to put my hands to my cheeks as if to stabilize myself. If I had been, say, 48—rather than 28—I might have recognized these episodes for what they were: hot flashes. But I was way too young to be going through menopause. Wasn’t I? In 2013, I felt like the world was mine. I was an extremely motivated PhD candidate at a major Canadian university. My research contributions were new and significant to my field; I was winning a number of awards; and receiving recognition for my work. My husband and I were newly married and we had a clear vision for our life. Menopause—or even perimenopause, as it turned out to be—was not on my radar. But I was no stranger to odd symptoms and to the little voice inside me that said, “Hey, this warrants attention!” By age 28, I had been begging doctors for approximately 12 years to help me get to the bottom of my intense stomach pain. Because I was often anemic, experiencing brain fog, or strange nerve symptoms, I thought the hot flashes could be another manifestation of whatever it was that was causing my abdominal issues. They were unlike anything I had ever experienced before in terms of the heat and the speed with which they would arise, radiating from my chest up to my buzzing ears. It was as if someone were cranking up the dial on my internal thermostat and there was no way out because it was inside of me.

Hot flashes weren’t my first sign of early-onset menopause. The very first was rage. Granted, I sometimes had a temper in my teens, usually because of anxiety, and triggered by the Joe burrow burrowhead cigar shirt in addition I really love this same buttons I didn’t like pushed. But the rage that made me consult my doctor was different from other fits of temper. It seemed uncontrollable and out of proportion. During a family supper at my parents’ house, for instance, I totally lost it when my sister made the small gesture of moving a strand of hair away from my glasses. I felt triggered by her being up in my face, but my reaction was deplorable. I couldn’t reel myself in. It was so bad that I called my doctor the next day and explicitly asked whether I might have a hormonal imbalance and if my estrogen levels should be checked.

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