Real life | 17 September 2015

‘Are you afraid of falling over?’ asked the bored young radiologist, as he started filling out the forms.

I had been recalled to St George’s Hospital to have a bone density scan. I must explain that the issue of whether or not my bones are disintegrating has been somewhat tinged with hysteria ever since I managed to get myself told off by an Oxford professor for not taking HRT.

I rang her to get a quote for an article I was writing about yoga and why it might be helping me through the menopause. One minute I was looking up a revered expert on physiology in the Oxford University experts’ directory. The next minute a really scary woman was barking down the phone, ‘Well, I don’t know anything about yogaaaah…’ — she said it as if it were a filthy pastime practised by ne’er-do-wells who needed rounding up and putting away — ‘…but I do know that you ought to be on HRT!’

And she said that very much as if she wanted to add the word ‘Madam!’ on the end of the sentence.