You should know, dearest reader (hi Liz...), that writing this post is painfully difficult. Sometimes I procrastinate and sometimes I'm lazy but I'm not those things by default. That is something a lot of people in my life have a hard time understanding. But, my mood is basically shot right now and it's taking effort to do anything.
So this post that is supposed to be my hobby/fun is like ripping teeth out. But I keep trying to remind myself that I'll be glad later when I think about the fact that I did something today. After this comes a cover letter. (By the way, I'm regretting not making a pact before graduation with friends that we'd just do each other's resumes and cover letters. We're all better at talking each other up than we are at boasting about ourselves.)
But yes, this post. Stay on topic, Char.
I just read this article on NPR. It's about how women often wait to seek medical attention when they're experiencing troubling symptoms.
"But even when women suspected that they were having a heart attack, many said they were hesitant to bring it up because they didn't want to look like hypochondriacs."
Grrr.
This is no joke. Not counting family pre-college, I've lived with five women and most of my closest friends are women. And I've seen this mentality often, in all of us, though it manifests in different ways. I'd say two-thirds of the time, we're hesitant to go to the doctor because we don't want to be thought of as drama queens. The other, almost scarier third is when we discourage each other from going.
"It's probably nothing."
"You're most likely fine."
"Are you really in that much pain?"
Now, if you stub your toe (though that's the effing worst), I will probably roll my eyes if you want to go to the doctor. Unless your nail came all the way off and you want that prescription lotion or something. You know.
But if you're having consistent pain? Abnormal pain? I shouldn't tell you you're exaggerating. And you shouldn't say it to me, either.
We talk a lot about women being tougher than men, namely because men do not give birth.
"They couldn't deal with sciatica for months and months and months!"
"They couldn't be nauseous for weeks at a time."
"They couldn't push something the size of a watermelon out of a hole the size of a lemon."
(Did you cringe at the last one? I cringed at the last one. God bless women.)
And based on those super scientific video-studies of men "experiencing" birth, I'd say that yeah, most men probably could not handle the physical pain, whereas most women can and do. Their bodies haven't evolved with the need to. (This is not to say men aren't tough or strong. Many are. And I'm not a fan of judging the seriousness of one person's pain or struggles based on another's. I just bring this up to point out the irony of society thinking women can't handle pain.)
So we've got this fun little scenario where women can handle the trauma and pain of childbirth, but we're also thought of as weak, and we're also... worried about looking like drama queens.
It doesn't really make sense whichever way we look at it. If the claim is that most women can tolerate pain, you'd think that the threshold of pain is raised, so women should always be taken seriously when they say they're in pain. Someone who deals with 3-9 days of excruciating cramps every single month probably isn't going to exaggerate her pain.
On the other side of the spectrum, if women were as weak as everyone thinks, why would you not take our complaints seriously? Obviously not agreeing that women are weak. Just looking at the logic of this fairly common thought process. The patriarchy often views women as children. If a child, clearly not as strong or tough as a grown ass man, said they were in serious pain, would it make sense to ignore them or to roll your eyes? Probably not. It would likely be cause for concern.
Somehow, society has managed to patronize us, then hold us up to these weird ass standards of pain, then scoff at us when we say we're sick. And it's become internalized. And that is infuriating.
For me personally, I think there's an added dimension because I didn't have the most supportive family, and on top of many other not nice names, I was constantly called a hypochondriac and a drama queen. (Which is even sadder because I was told I was sick when I wasn't, that I had life threatening conditions when I didn't, etc. etc.) So now, I feel like an idiot whenever I have something physically wrong. I hesitate to tell even the people I am closest to when I'm not feeling okay, and when I do, I often start it with something like, "I hate complaining about this, but...."
I shouldn't have to qualify my honest-to-God problems. I shouldn't worry that I'll be called a hypochondriac, nor should any of my other friends.
Once I finally got health insurance, I found a doctor and thankfully, he's terrific. He has never once questioned the validity of a complaint or the reality of my symptoms. I have some great specialists, but no one can top my primary. A few months back, I went to the ER. I had terrible pains that I could not physically handle any longer. No OTC pain meds were cutting it on the pain management scene. The kicker is that I had these same pains the month before. I told two people about it, and both said to go to the ER, but I didn't listen. I thought that I'd go and they'd roll their eyes at another girl having cramps on her period. So another month passed and the next time, I couldn't NOT go to the hospital. It turns out, there was a mass on my ovary. I was told to see a specialist immediately for imaging and possible biopsy. I ended up having surgery, and the damage was extensive. I'm fine now, but had I not put off seeking medical attention, I could have had the diagnosis sooner, the surgery sooner.
I'm not going to dwell on that bad decision forever, but it's another example of the widespread issue of women fearing judgement for seeking medical help.
When I did go to a specialist two days after the ER visit, the doctor literally rolled her eyes, told me the ER technicians probably didn't know what they were talking about, that it was most likely fine, and that I just have to deal with the cramps. She gave me birth control and called it a day. That wonderful primary of mine? I called him after the appointment, he told me to come in, and we discussed everything. He assured me that the specialist was out of line and that if he had something in his body, he would want it out as soon as possible. He told me not to think I was being over-dramatic for wanting a second opinion, and he and the secretaries found another OBGYN to see. That specialist and his whole practice were very helpful, and if anything were more concerned about my symptoms than I was.
That NPR article quotes a doctor who says that they need to find ways to make women feel empowered when it comes to health. I think doctors who currently don't take complaints seriously should start.
As for society, I don't know. I mean smash the patriarchy, yes, but I don't know what we could do right this second to fight this problem. I suppose the first step would be for men and women alike to take the women in your life seriously when they express concern over something health-related. This is probably harder than it seems psychologically, but that doesn't matter. Fake it. Keep telling yourself your friends aren't hypochondriacs. Tell yourself you are not a hypochondriac. It might feel like a lie at first (it definitely did with me, but after tons of tests confirming real problems, I'm starting to understand that no, I'm not just a drama queen). Yeah, it'll feel like a lie at first, but it's actually the truth and it'll eventually sink in. And that's important.
Oh, and go find a really great doctor, if you're able. (I know, health insurance in this country sucks.)
__
Charlotte
So we've got this fun little scenario where women can handle the trauma and pain of childbirth, but we're also thought of as weak, and we're also... worried about looking like drama queens.
It doesn't really make sense whichever way we look at it. If the claim is that most women can tolerate pain, you'd think that the threshold of pain is raised, so women should always be taken seriously when they say they're in pain. Someone who deals with 3-9 days of excruciating cramps every single month probably isn't going to exaggerate her pain.
On the other side of the spectrum, if women were as weak as everyone thinks, why would you not take our complaints seriously? Obviously not agreeing that women are weak. Just looking at the logic of this fairly common thought process. The patriarchy often views women as children. If a child, clearly not as strong or tough as a grown ass man, said they were in serious pain, would it make sense to ignore them or to roll your eyes? Probably not. It would likely be cause for concern.
Somehow, society has managed to patronize us, then hold us up to these weird ass standards of pain, then scoff at us when we say we're sick. And it's become internalized. And that is infuriating.
For me personally, I think there's an added dimension because I didn't have the most supportive family, and on top of many other not nice names, I was constantly called a hypochondriac and a drama queen. (Which is even sadder because I was told I was sick when I wasn't, that I had life threatening conditions when I didn't, etc. etc.) So now, I feel like an idiot whenever I have something physically wrong. I hesitate to tell even the people I am closest to when I'm not feeling okay, and when I do, I often start it with something like, "I hate complaining about this, but...."
I shouldn't have to qualify my honest-to-God problems. I shouldn't worry that I'll be called a hypochondriac, nor should any of my other friends.
Once I finally got health insurance, I found a doctor and thankfully, he's terrific. He has never once questioned the validity of a complaint or the reality of my symptoms. I have some great specialists, but no one can top my primary. A few months back, I went to the ER. I had terrible pains that I could not physically handle any longer. No OTC pain meds were cutting it on the pain management scene. The kicker is that I had these same pains the month before. I told two people about it, and both said to go to the ER, but I didn't listen. I thought that I'd go and they'd roll their eyes at another girl having cramps on her period. So another month passed and the next time, I couldn't NOT go to the hospital. It turns out, there was a mass on my ovary. I was told to see a specialist immediately for imaging and possible biopsy. I ended up having surgery, and the damage was extensive. I'm fine now, but had I not put off seeking medical attention, I could have had the diagnosis sooner, the surgery sooner.
I'm not going to dwell on that bad decision forever, but it's another example of the widespread issue of women fearing judgement for seeking medical help.
When I did go to a specialist two days after the ER visit, the doctor literally rolled her eyes, told me the ER technicians probably didn't know what they were talking about, that it was most likely fine, and that I just have to deal with the cramps. She gave me birth control and called it a day. That wonderful primary of mine? I called him after the appointment, he told me to come in, and we discussed everything. He assured me that the specialist was out of line and that if he had something in his body, he would want it out as soon as possible. He told me not to think I was being over-dramatic for wanting a second opinion, and he and the secretaries found another OBGYN to see. That specialist and his whole practice were very helpful, and if anything were more concerned about my symptoms than I was.
That NPR article quotes a doctor who says that they need to find ways to make women feel empowered when it comes to health. I think doctors who currently don't take complaints seriously should start.
As for society, I don't know. I mean smash the patriarchy, yes, but I don't know what we could do right this second to fight this problem. I suppose the first step would be for men and women alike to take the women in your life seriously when they express concern over something health-related. This is probably harder than it seems psychologically, but that doesn't matter. Fake it. Keep telling yourself your friends aren't hypochondriacs. Tell yourself you are not a hypochondriac. It might feel like a lie at first (it definitely did with me, but after tons of tests confirming real problems, I'm starting to understand that no, I'm not just a drama queen). Yeah, it'll feel like a lie at first, but it's actually the truth and it'll eventually sink in. And that's important.
Oh, and go find a really great doctor, if you're able. (I know, health insurance in this country sucks.)
__
Charlotte
