This is going to be a bit of a journey of my random thoughts and musings - my cerebral intimacy. Today, I'm going to give you a bit of an introduction to me and why my passions include immigration, reproductive health, women's health, and chronic pain. Please feel free to suggest topics and share your own experiences in the comments!
Prefer to listen instead of read a long post? Check out the latest podcast episode hosted on Soundcloud, linked over on the top right of this page!
Prefer to listen instead of read a long post? Check out the latest podcast episode hosted on Soundcloud, linked over on the top right of this page!
I am a woman of color, and an immigrant. These are the parameters that bind my experiences. I welcome other perspectives and am open to broadening my view of the world, but my thoughts may always be influenced by those boundaries.
Comments are welcome, but keep them constructive please. This is an LGBTQ+ safe space as mentioned above, and while I will use gendered terms, when applied to someone I do not know, they are based on presentation. I respect those who prefer to use certain pronouns and use them in my writing accordingly.
I came to this country - became a legal permanent resident in 2006 (I'll go a bit more into depth with this in a subsequent post). I was in college at the time and well on my way to my degree to the point that it didn't make sense for me to transfer credits and enroll in a US school. When I graduated in 2009, I moved in with family and started to build my life here in the US. This allowed me to save money, especially considering the 2008 recession was still ongoing, and no business was looking to hire a newly minted business graduate from a foreign school that was better known for its med school than the damn fine quality of business grads it produces (if I do say so myself!).
So I wound up joining the gig economy. Raised by a boomer, I have always been of the mindset that some work is better than no work, and that an honestly earned dollar is worth more that the sweet bliss of a stack of dishonestly gained hundreds. As a career temp I was able to get that elusive experience that all businesses ask for but are never willing to give; what I wasn't able to get was a steady reliable income. That is what kept me living with family for a number of years. I was trapped in a verbal and psychological abuse situation that I had no way out of because of financial insolvency. Needless to say when I got my first permanent job opportunity, I wasted no time in looking for an apartment of my own. I was able to move out and have been living on my own in a studio apartment for the past 5 years. In that time, I've been very fortunate to have steady work, which while not allowing me to live in luxury, has consistently allowed me to make my bills.
When I got that permanent job in 2013, boy howdy was I glad for the benefits. For the first time since I graduated, I had health insurance, and could take a paid vacation. Now a few years ago, when I was in my late teens, doctors discovered that I have a relatively mild form of Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome. I say relatively mild because I do not display many of the classic external symptoms of PCOS. I wound up having surgery to eliminate a large cyst on my right ovary, but knew that there would be recurrences. When I got my health insurance in 2013, I went to my primary care physician and upon giving my medical history, requested an ultrasound to get a baseline of where things were with my ovaries. I was told that it was unnecessary, as my menstrual cycle was regular. I was also told that my excruciating cramps were normal and I should just keep taking Advil. I stayed with that doctor for the next 4 years, until her facility stopped taking my insurance. Last year, 2017, I went to a different gynecologist, and once again gave my full medical history and again asked for a scan, and was again dismissed. This had the direct result of me questioning my own mental health, wondering if I had become a hypochondriac or if I was malingering.
Now as an aside, for those who have the blessing of not having a uterus, an annual gynecological checkup usually involves both a pap smear and a pelvic examination. The pelvic examination involves the insertion of two fingers and a hand on the abdomen to check the internal structure of an AFAB person. The closest AMAB analog that I know of is a prostate exam.
This year's gynecological checkup was with a different doctor, one closer to my home. This year's gynecological visit excluded my request for a scan. I simply had given up on trying to advocate for my own health, given that my 2 prior doctors had flat out told me I was asking for an unnecessary (and non-invasive) test, based on my own feelings and not on their medical expertise. The pap smear went about as I had expected it to... and within 15 seconds of beginning the pelvic exam, my new doctor popped up from between my legs and proclaimed a prognosis of fibroids. One transvaginal ultrasound and 2 weeks later and I found out that I have 2 fibroids, each the size of a uterus.
Fibroids are benign tumors of the uterus, and their growth is linked to hormones, age of menarche and family history. I check off all the boxes. If I had been on the receiving end of more empathetic care I am of the opinion that the fibroids would have been caught earlier. As it stands now, I will be having a hysterectomy in a few months, and while I wished to remain child-free, having my body betray me like this, and having this missed because of medical bias still makes me angry. Telling women that pain is normal should be so unethical that licenses would be suspended. Pain is the body's response to something going wrong in the body. Studies have shown that uterine cramps are comparable in scale and effect on the body to heart attacks. Yet to expect a doctor to tell a cardiac patient to take Advil for a heart attack is anathema. To have a gynecologist - a female gynecologist be so dismissive of my reproductive health was so shocking, so betraying, that I have moved past my desire to avoid male gynecologists.
If you or someone you know isn't receiving the care they should be receiving; please, take it from me: better to move out of your comfort zone and get a second, third or fourth opinion and be treated appropriately than remain complacent and question what you feel. You never know when it may be something that can be treated early and not reduce your quality of life. Because I didn't do this until this year, while I wait for my hysterectomy, I have to deal with chronic pain, lethargy and resulting depression and anxiety. I look forward to the end of this year when I get my quality of life back. In the meantime I will keep advocating for others and keep encouraging others. Positivity is my one recourse.
Come on back next time for more cerebral intimacy... and thank you for sharing this journey with me.
