It never tells you what your numbers mean.
Fewer hot flashes after a dose change could be the dose, the season, or a calmer month at work. An app can’t know which, so Adler doesn’t guess. It counts, it marks the change, and it leaves the meaning to you and your doctor. The page it makes is something to talk about, not an answer.
It doesn’t start with your period.
Most women’s health apps begin with a cycle. Plenty of women on HRT don’t have one any more, or never know when it’s coming. Adler asks once whether you have periods, and if the answer is no, it never brings them up again.
No sliders, no streaks.
Rating a hot flash from one to ten in the middle of one is nobody’s idea of help. One tap is enough to count it. And there’s no streak, because a bad week shouldn’t also come with a broken chain.
Your data stays on your phone.
What you log about your body is yours. Adler has no account, no server and no analytics. The privacy page lists everything it touches, and it’s short.
Why it costs money.
An app with no ads and no data to sell has one way to keep going: the people who use it pay for it. The price is on the front page, the trial is seven days, and with notifications on Adler reminds you two days before it ends. No surprise charges.
Who makes it.
I’m Arham, one developer. I’m not a doctor and I’m not the person this app is for. I built it from what women on HRT write about the apps they’ve tried, the notebooks they keep for appointments, and the questions that get forgotten in the room. If something in Adler is wrong for you, write to support@tryadler.app. I read every one.
Arham