So I was talking with my mum about my forthcoming endo appointment, and what the problems are and what the treatment will involve. I steered the conversation towards areas she understands and is comfortable with, which means physical symptoms and their possible physiological causes. I'd need to see the endo even if I wasn't trans and looking more like the real me will be a happy byproduct of not feeling like crap all the time and stopping my internal organs from trying to kill me. We had a good laugh about the heart attack my partner's going to have when I grow a beard.
Mum talked about a woman she saw on TV whose symptoms "are the same as mine" (they're not). She's convinced herself I have ovarian cysts, which is possible though I don't think it's necessarily true. She talked some more about the TV show in question, and then proceeded to come out with a bunch of woo about vitamin C and a sh*t-load of (expensive) "herbal" snake-oil pills that the TV presenter says will fix the whole problem. D'oh! And I thought we were making such good progress. Ah well, I also thought she'd gotten over her pseudo-science phase.
I suspect the real issue here is grandkids. She's never mentioned grandkids (she doesn't actually like kids), but I think she's unwilling to accept the fact that she won't have any. Poor mum seems to be clinging to the hope that my infertility could be reversed. I do sympathize, but it ain't going to happen. Even if I wanted kids it wouldn't happen, since getting pregnant requires eggs.