#tw medical gaslighting

[wishful-seeker]

I have 0% tolerance for doctors anymore, if they treat me shitty once they will again, thus I'll either drop them or file a complaint.

Before my CRPS was diagnosed i was too scared to stand up to doctors. The pain made me SO DESPERATE i was willing to deal with anything. Now that i have this new undiagnosed illness i realized my body and mind PHYSICALLY cannot do that anymore.

The second to last time i didn't stand up for myself with a doctor i punched the medical bed as soon as she left the room, the last time i couldn't even hear what he said because i was busy restraining myself from punching HIM. i was seeing red, face twitching and everything. My body literally cannot take being quiet anymore. I do not care if i make things more difficult. I don't care if it takes longer to get diagnosed because im pushing for better treatment. I would rather stand up for myself and physically suffer more than let these doctors believe they are allowed to treat me like a dog. They don't treat me like a HUMAN, they don't see us as HUMAN. They see us as pests. A burden, a problem to solve. And if they can't solve you THEY FUCKING HATE YOU. but i think i hate them more.

Doctors are in a gross position of power over their patients, they decide if you live or die, your existence is in their hands, you beg them for help because they are your God and they spit in your face. Even if you literally cry and beg them to help they will give you NOTHING and i know this because thats what i did. I literally BEGGED these people sobbing to help my pain and they did nothing. They do not care about you. They never will. We are not people to them. Nurses are often the same way. I've had nurses and doctors lie straight to my face, make faces when i tell them my story, and do other horrible things.

I can't do it. I can't deal with it anymore. I will fight tooth and nail and be the biggest Karen in existence to these doctors the SECOND they treat me wrong.

I have found two. TWO doctors out of over 50 that i actually like. 2 that treat me appropriately and not like im a bug. 2 that treat me like a human being.

[localratwithcowboyhat]

I have a doctors appointment tomorrow and i am so so scared they are gonna be gaslighting me and not help me like so manny others

I just want help

I shouldn’t feel like im in an interrogation and everything i say will be used against me

[awkward-tension-art]

Test Results

This is more or less self-indulgent to the time I had to fight tooth and nail to get a proper diagnosis for my fatigue issues. My heart goes out to everyone battling the healthcare system to get proper care for chronic diseases. My heart is with you, and I hope you find a doctor who can help get answers.

Pronouns: Gender-neutral, but I wrote this with AFAB!reader in mind.

Tw: Medical procedures, chronic illness, medical gaslighting, swearing, this has a lot of feelings put into it

Minors, get out of here. My writing isn’t for you.

“Your blood test results came back clear”

Those words would have most people feeling relief. Nothing was wrong. They were healthy.

But those words to you brought you to tears.

You sobbed in the driver seat of your car. What doctor was this? The 5th? 6th? How long did you wait to see this latest doctor? How many copays have you been charged? How much blood has been taken?

All of that, you still didn’t have answers!

You were sick. And no one seemed to care enough to find out why.

It’s all in your head.

It’s your period.

You need to lose weight.

You’re stressed.

You sobbed again. And again. Hot tears streamed down your face as you drove home. You had to pull over into a grocery store parking lot just to weep again. Getting home took twice as long.

You didn’t feel much better once you were sitting on your bed. Your tear-filled eyes kept looking at the paper in your hands.

Within range.

Negative.

All clear.

Nothings wrong.

Why were you sick?! You knew your body shouldn’t feel this way. This wasn’t normal.

Your breath hitched and you crumbled up the blood test results. They’ll be added to the ever growing file of other useless results that told you nothing.

Your face was in your hands as you broke down in frustration.

You were so tired.

Your thoughts were so overwhelming, you didn’t hear the door to your bedroom open.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright.” Leon, your ever sweet boyfriend, knelt in front of you, “take a breath. What’s wrong? What did the doctor say?”

“Nothing!” You wept, “still nothing! They didn’t even bother to talk to me about other referrals!” Your finger pointed to the crumbled up papers with your results.

Leon straightened out the paper to look at it, “another CBC?”

Complete blood count. The most standard of blood tests. The one that all doctors seemed to default to. The test that wasn’t helping you at all.

“They didn’t want to test for anything else.” You whimpered, shoulders shaking, “Why won’t anyone listen to me?”

His strong arms wrapped around you. Leon knew was it was like to scream for answers and only be left with silence in return. He rubbed your back, just letting you cry out your feelings.

By the end of it you were exhausted.

“I’m so tired…” you sniffled. There really wasn’t any other word for it. You were just so damn tired.

“I know.” He murmured, planting a kiss on your head. He held you so tightly. So protectively, “Want me to come with you to the next appointment?”

You debated. Your words and concerns weren’t being taken seriously. Would they listen to Leon? Would they finally do more tests than the standard ones? Would they dig deeper, and try and find the source of your misery?

“Please?” You asked softly, “I don’t…maybe they’ll listen to you.”

He scoffed, “they should be listening to you.”

“They aren’t.”

“I know.” Leon whispered, “I know. And it’s not fair.”

You largely calm down now. Still, you dreaded the idea of making another appointment just to get referred to someone else. You’ve been ping-ponged around the medical specialists in your community so many times you could probably get an Olympic medal for it.

“Next time a doctor tries to brush you off, I can go all asshole and demand for more tests.” Your boyfriend said suddenly.

You couldn’t help but snort. Maybe that could work. At least he’d be able to hold your hand while you got your blood taken again.

“I think I’d like that.” You rested your head on his shoulder.

“We’ll figure this out.” He wrapped an arm around your shoulder, “I’ll help fight for you.”

“Thanks Leon.” You mumbled, giving him a small smile.

At least he believed you. Even if no one else did.

[gabbagepatch]

ENT totally dismissed me 3-19-2024

I had my ENT appointment yesterday after waiting three months and I probably saw the doctor for about five minutes. He came in, didn’t ask any questions, looked bored while I told him what was happening, questioned the test results I just got 20 minutes ago in his practice, didn’t look at my MRI, argued with me about my symptoms, and told me that he couldn’t do anything. He offered me Valium if “it would make me feel better”. I said no thanks.

He told me I'm too young for anything to be wrong and that it'll go away "any minute." He scheduled another appointment two months from now. Wtaf? Even if, hypothetically, this thing I've been living with for 1/3 of the year will just disappear in the future--I'm still being disabled by it right now!

If anything it's getting worse, not better. My vision is distorted now and I'm getting migraines 4-5 times a week. The pressure in my ear caused my eardrum to burst. How the hell can anyone look me in the eye and say to wait until it ~goes away~?

I could not stop crying afterwards, thank the Lord my mom was there and thank Him again for my therapy appointment tomorrow. I feel so defeated, sad, angry, and my ear really fucking hurts.

I'm so heartbroken. My PCP recommended him so highly, and I really trust him. I expected to at least be seen for more than five minutes. He prescribed me steroid drops and if those don't give me miraculous improvement after 7 days I'm looking for a neurologist and/or neurotologist.

I am absolutely not waiting another two months for treatment just because Dr. Donothing thinks 21 year-old women can't be ill. Fuck that noise.

[goatvomit]

I've been officially diagnosed with POTS today. While the condition itself is not a victory, the diagnosis is.

I've been fighting various doctors for years trying to get them to diagnose me with something. But it was always, "Oh your labs are normal!" "Have you tried losing weight?" "I see anxiety is listed in your history..."

NO MORE. They watched my pulse go up and up as I stood up. Within a timed minute my heart rate went from about 97 (sitting upright) to 128 (stood up), and they were like, "Uh, yeah okay. Sit back down. Um. Yeah so... POTS."

It was like a lightning bolt shot through me. I KNEW IT! I've finally been vindicated. Myself, a year ago, was suffering in silence for many years with ~ mystery symptoms ~ that were all dismissed at my previous providers.

Now, I have PROOF.

It's validating but also... Rage inducing? All my previous doctors had to do was watch my pulse/BP as I laid down, sat, and stood up. They would have seen the abnormality. All these years wasted. You know what I mean? Anyway, I'm beyond happy. I can move forward with some sort of treatment plan to try and regulate things as best as we can.

[onceuponaroast]

So small update for yall: after a fainting spell at work (I'm fine) I finally bit the bullet and got a smart watch to monitor my heart and went to see my doctor again. Turns out that ~130 is Not a normal resting heart rate, and neither is spiking wildly from 80-120 just because of like. Standing.

So we're doing some more testing for symptoms I thought we'd gotten figured out like. 4 years ago. Which on one hand is nice to get closure and some answers (hopefully) but on the other hand has fucking terrifying implications, because before I thought I just had some chronic pain but that if I pushed hard enough I could exercise and get my body back to being active and normal eventually. Now that we have reason to believe it's heart and blood circulation related, it's a lot less likely.

Like it is nice to know that I'm not just weak and these symptoms aren't normal, but it's also hard to grasp the fact that that means everything I do is going to be harder and more dangerous than for healthier people, and that there's not much I can do about it.

Right now my doctor is looking into POTS, and they're having me get more blood drawn again (I thought we were done with that). I'm also going to wear a heart monitor for a bit which will be neat. I'll try to update yall with any official news but I also want to say for all the other people who might (like me) not realize: despite what funny memes on the internet may tell you, feeling dizzy when you stand up too fast is not normal. Feeling nauseous or light headed when you stand for too long is not normal. Vision bluring/blacking out and feeling like you're going to faint because you walked up one flight of stairs is not normal. Swollen red feet after walking too long is not normal. And finally, uncontrollable sweating/burning hot face even if the rest of your body feels fine or the room temperature is mild is also not normal.

I love you so much, please don't try and just push through it because you think you're just weaker. Get help if you can afford it, and keep pushing if doctors blow you off. You're worth it.

[a-totally-reasonable-username]

I was 11 years old and i didn't think i'd ever survive to age 18. I was in autistic burnout and severely depressed. I was actively suicidal and spent years on psychiatric wards and such. I survived. I have c-ptsd from it all but i survived.

I had survived and was finally allowed to live at home again and i was doing good. I was starting to heal, even. But i became chronically ill. And everything is the same. And i don't know how to do it all over.

When i was 11 years old, i couldn't trust my mind because of depression and suicidal thoughts. Now i'm 17 and can't trust my mind because i experience paranoia and hallucinations. I used to spend hours screaming because i was in such pain. Now i dissociate and if i'm lucky i pass out. I used to say that there was something wrong with me, used to beg for help and beg for someone, anyone, to make it stop. My mom tried. But noone would listen to us. They'd say my Mom was overreacting and call her hysterical when she'd cry because she spent the last night talking her kid away from comitting suicide, for the third time that week. I know there's something wrong with me, but i don't beg anymore. I just laugh. My mom tries. And she helps the best she can, does everything she can think of and we try to get doctors to listen. And they say she's overreacting and ask if she's heard of munchhausen by proxy and say we just want to collect diagnoses. And when she cries because she sspent hours awake the last night, moving her kid because they were unable to move by themself, experiencing non-epileptic sizures and hallucinations, being in and out of consciousness, they call her hysterical. They used to say "that's normal for girls your age" when i told them i had the urge to selfharm. Now doctors say "that's normal for girls your age" when i say eating is painful and makes me nauseous.

I was 11 and didn't think i'd ever reach the age of 18. It's six more months and i'll be 18. But i don't know if i'll make it.

History really does repeat itself.

[valravn72]

Hello my principal just called Chronic Fatigue Syndrome “being a teenager but slightly worse” how’s your Monday

[nbsunflowergay]

id like to thank my local hospital for gaslighting me. first when the intake nurse gave me the most ignorant look when i told her i was on a prescribed narcotic for my disruptive rem disorder and refused to believe me when i finished telling her all my meds and kept asking if i was on any illicit drugs. then the first nurse trying to make me believe the MASSIVE EAR INFECTION i had was 'just allergies', the that nurse and another nurse outside my room laughed about it and made comments about how i should 'just learn to clean my ears properly' . then when i had to go back the next day because it was in so much pain i was throwing up and shaking uncontrollably from the pain and my brother had to carry me and the entire right side of my face was massively swollen the second (male) nurse looked me dead in the eyes and told me i was a liar and exaggerating when i told him the pain was a 10/10 and i just needed to get over myself.

anyways i have 2 more days on the ear drops and finished the oral antibiotic today and other than the expected side effects from the antibiotic i feel much better. ive lost significant hearing in my right ear, which is unfortunate on many levels but like im already mostly deaf in my leaf ear so i had to really sole on the right ear.

[wishful-seeker]

Being disabled means speaking to doctors and nurses like you are defending yourself against a crime in a courtroom

Im seeing an old rheumatologist tomorrow about me having possibly having behcets, a disease my mom has and we have the same symptoms.

But his nurse called and said he "already tested for that" which is a lie!

There is no test for behcets, like crps its diagnosed through symptoms, not tests. What he's talking about is before my crps was diagnosed with thought it might be behcets so he did a blood test called HLA-B51 testing for something in the blood that may suggest behcets but that shows up even if you don't have behcets and people with behcets can still not have it, so not a definitive test.

I said this to the nurse and she very passively aggressively said "where did you get that information? :)" i said "my mother who has behcets and mayo clinic."

She put me on hold for a minute then came back "that is the teat he usually does for behcets and he did for you, but like i said you already discussed this issue with him about your disease." I said "NO, HE DID NOT. You are referring to my CRPS which i thought was behcets, im asking him to look at a COMPLETELY NEW illness with NEW SYMPTOMS." And again, with a passive aggressive attitude said "okay..."

So im seeing him tomorrow.

Why do i have to fucking fight for my life like this.

[lonelysocksclub]

Is it feminism if the senior physician trying to dismiss my autoimmune disorder as hysteria is a woman?

[thistleanddown]

Joaquin's ten-year plan was simple: Get his bachelor's degree in environmental science (major forestry, minor conservation), find literally any well-paying job in that field, live far, far away from his parents, pay off his student loans, and maybe finally tell Daisy he's been in love with her since sophomore year.

By all accounts, Joaquin had done it. He'd graduated as valedictorian, found a lifelong career working to help conserve both California redwoods and sequoias (which are not the same tree, thank you very much), and was a comfortable 925 miles from home. And sure, maybe that last one was still a work-in-progress, but to his credit it was all wrapping up nicely.

And then Joaquin got bitten. Not on the job by a rattlesnake or mosquito, or at home by a spider. He was walking home from the bar--he'd insisted he was fine to walk, keys stashed safely in his pocket to pick his car up in the morning--and he was bitten.

Officially? His admittance papers listed it as an unknown canine, possibly a coyote.

But that wasn't what Joaquin had seen. He knows what a coyote looks like. For God's sake, he grew up in Albuquerque--coyotes were about as common as seagulls on the boardwalk! A coyote wouldn't run directly towards someone, snarling so loud Joaquin could feel it in his bones. Coyotes weren't twice his size. They couldn't pin him to the ground with a paw that felt too much like a hand, or leave a bite mark so wide and deep his scapula had chipped.

The paramedics who found him drop by to see how he is. They arrive after his second round of rabies shots. He's tired and sore, but they tell him he's looking good.

"We just wanted to follow up,"says one, an older man with silver-blond hair and crow's feet. "Do you have any idea what bit you?"

Joaquin sits up, wincing at the burning pain in his shoulder and chest, and succinctly says, "It was a werewolf."

Both paramedics blink.

"Werewolf?" Asks the second, who looks to be Joaquin's age.

Joaquin nods. The two look at one another, then to Joaquin, and back again.

"Werewolf,"the younger one repeats. "You're sure about that?"

"Yes, I'm sure! It's not an easy mistake to make. I know what happened to me. It was a werewolf!"

The paramedics look at each other again.

"We haven't had any werewolves in Fresno since the 80's,"the older one says. "Are you really sure? You were pretty drunk."

Joaquin blinks. He had two drinks. He's seen his chart--his BAC was 0.04%. Below the 0.08% legal limit and barely a buzz, but Joaquin refused to chance driving. He was still aware. 'Pretty drunk' as the paramedic had described was 0.17%--which Joaquin was nowhere near.

"Please leave,"Joaquin asks, suddenly so very tired.

When a different nurse strides in to change his IV, she asks what happened.

"It was a werewolf,"he tells the nurse, who doesn't even look up from her clipboard.

"Don't be ridiculous,"she admonishes, clicking her tongue. "Werewolves and most supernatural folk are rare here. It's too hot."

"I live with a vampire,"Joaquin says. "It's not too hot for her."

The nurse lets out a sigh, fixing him with a look that screams 'what do you want me to tell you?'

When the surgeon that had done Joaquin's stitches comes by to check on him, he holds his chart and laughs.

"I'd never seen a dog bite that big!"

"It was a werewolf,"Joaquin says again.

At this, the surgeon tilts his head.

"You sure? Looks more like a pit bull to me. Here, see how the teeth are arranged?"

He holds a photo of Joaquin's injury out to him. With the end of his pen, he gestures to the width of the jaw and marks out the shape, and Joaquin can feel those same teeth tear into him again. It's still the exact same wound. But, somehow, it suddenly looks smaller in the picture.

"So, you see what I mean?" The surgeon asks. "It's an easy mistake, but it was just a dog."

"Then why does it say 'coyote' in my chart?"

From behind wire framed glasses, the surgeon glares at Joaquin. He's still smiling, although it's thinner than before and doesn't quite reach his eyes.

"It does?" Asks the surgeon an a cold, even voice.

"Never mind,"Joaquin finally says. "Just-- When am I getting discharged?"

"End of tonight, thankfully,"the surgeon says, "You'll have to come back next week for continued rabies shots."

He goes to leave just then, but turns on his heel, brows creased in some form of epiphany.

"By the way, have you ever been tested for an anxiety disorder?"

Joaquin had been tested. He didn't have anxiety. He had a dopamine deficiency, inattentive-type ADHD, not anxiety. Even if he was, anxiety can't produce a hallucination powerful enough to see a coyote or a dog as a werewolf.

And yet, Joaquin can't help but wonder, briefly, if his diagnosis was wrong.

When Joaquin goes to fill his prescription, the pharmacist looks at the painkillers and antibiotics. Bushy brows raised high, he reads it over and over again, shocked at the potency of the medication.

"Good lord! What on earth happened to you,"he gapes.

"I got bit,"Joaquin says.

"By what?"

Joaquin's lips purse into a thin line. He doesn't answer.

[allmyhomieshatelawns]

part of the horrors of being so alone, is when you can’t figure something out, or find something you’re looking for, and so you go “oh i’ll just ask someone!” and then you’re slapped in the face that you’ve been so traumatized and abused growing up that you’ve never made connections. you don’t know anyone. there’s no one for you to turn to for the answer of your question. the internet? that’s like looking for a specific drop of water in the ocean.

oof it gets a lot darker after the break

and it sucks. bc. it’s kinda shocking to me. i didn’t think i… i didn’t think i was so alone.

like, i’m just looking up places to get a massage. i live in constant pain bc of EDS, and for Christmas i asked for some money so i could treat myself to a day where i wasn’t in pain. and it’s..

i’m looking on google, and oh yeah there’s hundreds of places listed in my area. majority of them don’t have a website, don’t have reviews, don’t even have a list of services. all they have is a phone number and i can’t make calls bc i can’t fucking hear what people are saying over the phone. so that leaves me with going business to business, driving to each one. and even then, the people who work there aren’t going to give me a good idea on how good of a job they’re going to do, they want my money, they don’t care how much they hurt me in the process.

since i have EDS that means yep i’ve got autism, and im learning all this new stuff where apparently a massage therapist can mess you up really bad if they don’t know what to do with that. so i’m just sobbing in my living room, bc i would like to be able to… i don’t even know at this point. i haven’t been able to do much more than sit or lie down in months bc my back hurts so bad. i don’t know what to do about it anymore. i don’t have anyone i can ask. the people i do still have in my life have literally already said “that’s unfortunate, we don’t know how to help you.”

i just want it to stop. please i just want the pain to go away.

i can SEE my health deteriorating and it’s so scary. it’s so terrifying to feel more pain as i try to go about my daily life. i’m so scared. i can feel it, i can feel that my death is going to long and drawn out and painful and it’s so scary.

i just want it to stop, why won’t my doctor listen to me? why won’t any of them? i tell them i’m hurting and they brush it off. i tell them it’s getting worse, and they shake their heads and say “that’s unfortunate.” i tell them i want to die, that life isn’t worth living, that all i can see in my future is endless pain and suffering, and the doctor just… “Why would you want to do that? why can’t you be happy?” they ask like they can’t fathom what could be causing me so much misery, and i just want to scream. but of course, i was trained well as a kid to listen to what doctors say, they’re the authority, i don’t know anything, i must be wrong. i’m exaggerating my pain. if i just lost a little weight then that agony would be gone.

i’m so tired. how much more can i bear? how much more will i be made to bear?

[caassette]

reading an article from 2009 about fibromyalgia beside myself at british doctors sjlkfdjs

[atariaaren]

i was planning on drawing more panels, but i began to lose steam by the time i finished the 11th one ^^;;

[strawberrycat18]

When other people say they’re dizzy, they mean ‘phew! My equilibrium is a bit off! In a just a few moments I’ll be fine!’

When I say I’m dizzy, I mean something very different.

I mean that I can see black spots in my vision, and I can’t tell if this is going to be the time I pass out.

It means that the world is swimming underneath my feet, stretching and distorting like an obstacle course even when it’s just a straight, flat path.

It means there’s so much pressure in my head and not nearly enough.

It means that I can feel my heart speed up and beat harder, trying to adjust to the new gravity, just because I’ve shifted slightly.

It means I can feel the nausea rising in my stomach and the bile come up my throat.

It means that walking is a challenge. Getting a snack is a challenge, going to the bathroom is a challenge. Sitting up is a challenge.

So, when I say I’m dizzy, I’m trying to dumb it down so that you can understand a fraction of what I’m feeling. Not that I’m not feeling it. On good days, it’s a hindrance. On bad days it stops me doing anything. Stop telling me that ‘just being dizzy’ doesn’t make me ‘that disabled’. You barely know the half of it.