Lubrication, Lubrication, Lubrication

I don’t really want to overshare, but then again, when it comes to women’s health, maybe oversharing is exactly what’s been missing.

Because back in my thirties, when I was merrily juggling life as a busy mum of three, an uninvited guest arrived. Not once. Not twice. But repeatedly.

UTIs.

At first, they were treated in the usual way, a sympathetic GP, a course of antibiotics, and off you go. Except I didn’t really go anywhere. The infections kept coming back, each one knocking me sideways for days at a time. The pain was excruciating, the kind that makes you question everything, including your own anatomy.

By my early forties, things escalated. The infections reached my kidneys, and on one particularly memorable occasion, I found myself in hospital for a week, hooked up to intravenous antibiotics that felt strong enough to strip paint.

Consultants scratched their heads. I left bloated from fluids, weak as a kitten, and with a husband slightly traumatised by my fever-induced ramblings (which, for the record, I have absolutely no recollection of).

After that, I lived on high alert, armed with a stash of antibiotics, ready to strike at the first hint of symptoms. I became, quite frankly, an OG of the bladder infection world. Not a title I’d recommend aspiring to.

But looking back now, what strikes me most isn’t just the pain or the fear, it’s the absence of something fundamental: education.

Because no one joined the dots. Not in my thirties. Not in my forties.

No one explained that declining oestrogen, even before menopause, can affect vaginal and bladder health. That lower oestrogen levels can reduce protective bacteria, alter vaginal pH, and make it far easier for harmful bacteria to thrive and travel where they absolutely shouldn’t.

I had to learn that for myself. Online. Years later.

So, about two years ago, I went back to my GP and asked for vaginal oestrogen. He wasn’t entirely convinced, but agreed it “probably wouldn’t hurt.” Off I went, prescription in hand, equal parts hopeful and sceptical.

It was a game-changer.

I haven’t had a UTI since.

I couldn’t help but wonder… how many women are still out there, suffering in silence, because no one thought to mention something so basic?

This lack of education, this quiet gap in knowledge, is exactly what inspired my artwork, ‘The Menopause Manifesto,’ currently showing as part of the exhibition Not My Type, curated by Ceri Hine at Atom Gallery.

The piece is a tongue-in-cheek nod to Tony Blair’s famous ‘Education, Education, Education’ speech, except this time, the message is a little more… intimate:

Lubrication, Lubrication, Lubrication.

Because if education is power, then surely that should include knowing what’s happening to our own bodies, especially the parts we’ve been taught not to talk about.

Vaginal health shouldn’t be taboo. Perimenopause shouldn’t be a mystery. And women shouldn’t have to become amateur researchers just to get relief from something preventable.

If you’re curious to learn more, I found a brilliantly clear guide on vaginal oestrogen by pharmacist Tom McKenna (@balally_pharmacy), which helped me understand what no one had explained before.

The exhibition runs from 27th March to 18th April 2026, and a percentage of artwork sales will be donated to Solace Women's Aid and Women for Women International, organisations doing vital work supporting women in very real ways.

So maybe this is the point where we stop whispering.

Maybe we start talking, openly, honestly, and without apology.

Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s this: when it comes to women’s health, knowledge isn’t just power…

…it’s prevention.

Further reading: NHS and Dr Louise Newson. Always consult your healthcare professional about your concerns.