Strange Smells in Menopause? You’re Not Alone
It was a warm evening in northern WA, and my wife and I were relaxing in our on-site caravan. We’d taken a little break from our travels around Australia, working and living in a local caravan park. The door was cracked open to let in a gentle breeze, when suddenly, bam—the unmistakable scent of cigarette smoke invaded my nostrils.
“I wish whoever’s smoking would move away from the front,” I said, wrinkling my nose as the cigarette smell grew stronger.
My wife gave me one of those confused looks. Now, just to paint a picture, my wife’s nose is nothing short of legendary. Seriously, I’m pretty sure she could sniff out a peanut butter sandwich from a mile away. Noticing her puzzled expression, I quickly mirrored her confusion.
And so began my perimenopause journey. Little did I know at the time, but that moment was the starting point of a rollercoaster ride I was about to take—one that had more twists and turns than a theme park ride on steroids. That damn scent, like a persistent ghost, was there again and again, and only I could smell it. It lingered, haunting me in a way that felt like an invisible sidekick I never asked for.
As the days turned into weeks, the smell became an irritating fixture of my life. It felt like a riddle I couldn’t solve—like trying to put together IKEA furniture without instructions (you know the one… it always ends in tears). Conversations with my wife slowly turned into full-on research meetings. Armed with our trusty assistant, Google, we dove deep into the potential health mysteries that could be behind my scent-induced madness.
At 41, I found myself facing an ocean of confusion and strange sensations that I didn’t quite know how to explain. This scent—I couldn’t shake it. It was like a puzzle, and I was missing all the pieces. So, I did what any logical person would do: I went to the GP I hope for some answers.
Sitting across from my doctor, I laid out the details of my weird-smelling situation. After some tests, in the calmest, most reassuring voice, she started unravelling the mystery for me. She explained that perimenopause, that wonderful introduction into menopause, was likely the culprit behind my sudden phantom confusion.
Here’s the scoop: as women get older, our ovaries start dialling down the production of estrogen and progesterone—two hormones that are essential for, things like periods and fertility. This hormonal shift can bring on all sorts of fun surprises, including irregular periods, hot flashes, mood swings, and, apparently, phantom smells. Basically, your body decides to hit the pause button on the baby factory, while preparing for a whole new chapter. Exciting, right? Well, exciting in that annoying, “why does my body hate me?” kind of way.
And then, it hit me. The scent! It wasn’t just in my head. It was my body’s way of telling me, “Buckle up, this ride’s about to get bumpy.”
That conversation with my doctor didn’t just clear up the whole phantom-smoke thing, it also gave me the run down on what was really happening inside my body. I was ready to face perimenopause head-on, armed with a slightly more positive outlook. The light bulb was on, and I was now ready to rock this next phase of life.
Here’s the thing—menopause isn’t exactly the most discussed topic, is it? It’s often treated like the elephant in the room that no one wants to talk about. There’s this quiet, almost secretive vibe around it, and it’s easy to feel like you’re the only one navigating this wild ride. But guess what? We’re not alone in this, and it’s time to shatter the silence. The more we talk about it, the more we learn, and the more we support each other.
Now, every time that pesky scent comes back, I’ve learned to roll with it. Whenever I smell cigarette smoke and I know it’s just my good old perimenopausal friend, PEM, I turn to my wife with a grin and say, “The ghosts are smoking again,” or, “Tell the ghosts to stop smoking!” It’s become our little joke, a quirky reminder that I’m navigating this strange new chapter with a sense of humour—and a supportive wife who always has my back.
Looking back on that warm night in our caravan, I now see that it was more than just a moment in our travels. It marked the beginning of a whole new journey—one that wasn’t just about exploring Australia, but also about exploring the unknown world of perimenopause. That invisible scent, once so confusing, now represents the unseen changes happening inside me. It was a wake-up call, signalling the start of a new chapter in both my health and my journey.
So, if you’re noticing strange things happening in your body, remember, you’re not alone. It’s just another part of the journey, and we’ve got this. Menopause might not always be talked about, but it’s time to change that, one story at a time.