I Told You So!

Let’s just say if I had a dollar for every test that came back clear or every doctor who told me they couldn’t see anything wrong, I would have a small fortune; actually I would be going private instead of mucking around with the public health system. (side note: if you don’t have medical insurance then go and get it NOW, it’s only a few dollars a week but once you have an illness its either completely unaffordable or you cannot be covered, better to have it and not need it than the alternative!).

There was one doctor in particular (I will call her ‘Doctor A’) who vehemently denied I had any valid gynaecological problem, she looked at me and spoke to me as though I was a mosquito buzzing around her face. In the months preceding my operation she and the team she represented had done their best to swat me away. I can recall three instances where she told me directly that there was no way at all that I could have endometriosis or poly-cystic ovarian syndrome, and in hindsight I believe she may have been the point of contact that was stopping me from having any further gyny investigation (bear in mind that when I finally received the surgery it was because another doctor had bypassed her and her team). 

The time after the surgery was a bit of a blur to begin with, I can remember having a very kind nurse in recovery, yet I cannot remember the transfer from recovery back to the ward. Upon arrival back to the ward I was hooked straight up to a PCA (morphine pump) which also contributed to the blurriness. However one thing that stands out crystal clear in my memory is ‘Doctor A’ abruptly entering my cubicle, announcing curtly that I did have endometriosis and then turning sharply on her heels to depart again. Thankfully Mum had the presence of mind to probe for more information before she could escape and ‘Doctor A’ explained briefly that the operation had gone well, moderate endometriosis had been discovered and removed.

Prior to the surgery I had allowed my mind to imagine the feeling of elation that would come with a diagnosis, the satisfaction of finally knowing the source of my pain and having options and information about treating it. I had imagined it would feel like lifting your head out of a dark stormy cloud and smiling a sweet victory grin at all of those who didn’t want to believe me or help me. I was quite shocked to find I felt no such thing. I was ANGRY, I had suffered so much for long and it could have been solved earlier if fuckwits like ‘Doctor A’ had just taken the time to hear me out and do their jobs properly. I was also overwhelmed rather than elated; I cried tears of frustration and sheer exhaustion from the long journey it had taken to reach that point. On top of this I was so sore, I was in a lot more pain than I had been told to expect. Despite only having 3 small laparoscopic incisions I couldn’t stand or lay completely flat without pain bolting through my abdomen, I was also unable to walk.

I asked to see ‘Doctor A’ as I had done many times before, this time however she actually came. When I saw her again I wanted to scream out “I TOLD YOU SO” but choking back tears all I managed to ask her was why? Why had it taken so long for this to happen? Why did she tell me I wasn’t a candidate for surgery when in fact I was? Why did she deny for so long the possibility that I had a gyny problem? Her response contained a lot of shoulder shrugging and pre-prepared bullshit, when it became clear she wouldn’t give me any answers I cried and she left.

Two days later I had the pleasure of ‘Doctor A’ again, she was there to tell me I was being discharged. I couldn’t believe it when she told me, I was still in a lot of pain and had only managed to walk a few steps, I had no idea how I would imagine a whole flight of stairs at home. Nevertheless I cast my fear aside and I figured that my treatment would now be in line with standard procedure for patients with the same condition as me. I also didn’t want to be in that hospital a moment longer than was necessary, so Mum packed up our gear, wheeled me to the car and we left. So long suckers won’t be seeing you again anytime soon! Hasta La Vista Baby!