I’ve always been drawn to women’s health, both personally and professionally. As a GP, I see every day how often women’s symptoms are normalised, minimised, or simply not given the time and space they deserve. But I’ve also lived moments that have made this feel even more personal, and those experiences have shaped the way I practise medicine.
One of those was receiving a diagnosis of polycystic ovary syndrome (PCOS). I remember it clearly, not because of a long consultation or discussion, but because it came through a phone call from the reception team after my blood results. Even as a GP myself, it felt strangely abrupt and isolating. There was no conversation around what it might mean for me, just the label. And almost immediately, my mind went to fertility, long-term health, cardiovascular risk, and what this could mean for my future.
That experience pushed me into a deep dive of learning. I found myself reading widely about hormones, insulin resistance, lifestyle factors, nutrition, and how all of these interact with reproductive health. Some of it was evidence-based and well established, and some of it highlighted just how much nuance and uncertainty still exists. I realised how much of this information women are expected to piece together themselves, often without support or guidance. That curiosity, which started from something quite personal and anxiety-provoking, ended up becoming grounding. It made me a more thoughtful and empathetic practitioner and reinforced how important it is to truly listen and explore concerns, not just deliver a diagnosis.
The other big shift in my perspective has come through motherhood. Experiencing pregnancy, postpartum recovery, and the various points of contact with healthcare services made me see things differently. Even as someone working within the system, I became more aware of how fragmented care can feel, and how many different touchpoints there are for women during what can be a vulnerable and transitional time. It highlighted how easily information can feel rushed or disconnected, not because of individual clinicians, but because of time pressures and the way care is structured. It also made me more aware of how often women are left holding uncertainty themselves, trying to make sense of what is normal, what is not, and when to seek help.
Both of these experiences have stayed with me. They’ve deepened my commitment to women’s health and are part of why I wanted to be involved with this app, creating space where women can share their experiences, feel heard, and access clearer understanding of their health journeys.