My mom was exhausted. She wasn’t sleeping. Her moods swung without warning. She’d lose words mid-sentence. Her shoulder froze up and nobody could tell her why. Even her mouth felt different.
So she went to the doctor. Every Tuesday — because Tuesday was her only day off. She came home with prescription after prescription, and none of them touched what was actually happening to her. Dozens of medications for a dozen separate symptoms, and not one person stopped to ask whether they might all be connected.
I’m not a doctor. But I could read. And the deeper I went, the more I found the same thing over and over: women describing exactly what my mom was going through — and women who had found hormone therapy, worked with a clinician, and finally felt like themselves again. Not one miracle story. Thousands of ordinary ones.
That’s when I got angry. Because there was an answer, and nobody had told her.
So I built the company I wished had existed for her.