my middle school hospital visit
I started my period when I was 11. I just thought I was going to be one of those girls who matured a little faster. Little did I know what was in store for me.
One weekend when I was 13, I was sitting in our family room and I started having excruciating pain in my lower right abdomen. After trying to ignore if for a bit, I finally told my mom when it wasn’t getting any better, and fearing it was my appendix, she got me in the car and we headed to the ER. Once we arrived, they did an assesment and determined it wasn’t my appendix – which was a relief – but what was going on and why was the pain not going away?
After waiting for a while longer, the doctor came into the room and point blank, in front of my mother asked, “Do you think you’re pregnant?”
WHAT?
I’m 13, I’m not sexually active and you just asked me that IN FRONT OF MY MOTHER?
I immediately said no, but not after feeling the judgement rolling off of this doctor in waves and my mom staring a hole into me. The doctor said they wanted to perform an ultrasound just to be sure (you know, in case I was lying) and said they would be back to take me to radiology soon.
As soon as she left the room my mom immediately started asking all sorts of questions and I told her in no uncertain terms that I absolutely was not and could not be pregnant.
Once I was rolled into radiology and they started the ultrasound, which as a teenage girl you don’t realize is vaginal and makes you feel even more violated, the picture suddenly became clear. I had dozens of cysts in my ovaries and quite a bit of fluid which indicated that a large cyst likely ruptured.
A ruptured cyst can mimic many of the same symptoms as appendicitis, but typically does not require surgery. With this new information in hand and some pain meds administered in my IV, the doctor who previously reamed me with her judgement, did a complete 180 and came back oozing with sympathy and told me I should be feeling better in a few days. No apology for her earlier behavior, just a smile and sent me on my way.
As a young girl, I had no idea how much that interaction would stick with me. As I’ve gone through life and my infertility journey meeting with many different healthcare providers, I remember that one moment like it was yesterday. I so wish I could go back to the younger me now and standup to that doctor and tell her how wrong she was for shaming me. Even if I had been pregnant, her bedside manner was gross and created an unsafe space.
Looking back on that day, there were so many signs pointing to what would end up being the first signs of a bigger health journey, but that would not come to light for another decade.
As a mother, sister, aunt, daughter and friend, that one experience with one shitty doctor gave me the push as an adult to ensure I never let a healthcare provider make me or someone I love feel small or unheard. Advocating for yourself is critical and I wish I hadn’t felt so alone as a young girl.
Honestly,
Theresa