I have been having menstrual problems for my entire life, which is later discovered to be a cyst on my ovary. About four years before it was discovered, though, I would bleed constantly. It was never fresh blood, though; it was old and black. I would go months without a period, and then months with one.

A doctor sent me to a gynecologist to make sure it wasn’t cancer causing my problems, as I have a family history for various kinds. I was 26, but I took my mom with me for support. The female gynecologist sent my mom out of the room to ask me medical questions, one of which was if I was sexually active.

I told her I wasn’t, because I hadn’t had sex. I’m used to people acting like they don’t believe me, so when she gave me this look, I just nodded to confirm that I was telling the truth. A few questions later, she asked if I had done any “self-stimulation” that may have resulted in a scratch or a tear that would explain the bleeding.

I told her no, because there was always too much blood and it grossed me out. She became exasperated and yelled, “YOU HAVE TO BE HONEST WITH ME!” in a very hostile voice.

I was angry, but I wanted to get this over with, so I just accepted it. Mom came back in and sat in the room on the other side of a curtain, so she couldn’t see any of what happened next.

This doctor was going out of her way to be rough in her examination. I was very sure it shouldn’t be as painful as it was. At one point, she used what she called a probe to hold me open and use a light for a better view, which I felt was fair, but it opened me very wide to the point of near pain. When I hissed and told her it was very uncomfortable, she looked at me like I was an idiot and told me, “You need to calm down. It’s smaller than a man’s penis.”

Now I was offended and angry, but I didn’t want to yell at this woman and upset my mom by “being rude,” since she couldn’t see what was going on. I tried to ignore it, and after another minute or so, I felt the need to fart.

I waited to see if she’d move away for something, but she didn’t. Before I could tell her, though, she realized I was tensing up but not why, and she leaned in to me and, in a very aggressive whisper, said, “If you do not relax right now, I will end this exam and make you come back, and I don’t think you want that.”

So, I nodded and said, “Okay. I’ll relax.”

When she turned away and came back to continue her examination, I finally relaxed and just let it go right in her face. My mom heard and yelled at me for it, and I just told her, “No, no. She was turned away; it’s fine.”

The doctor said nothing about it, but the exam concluded quickly and with no pain, like someone had flipped a switch on the whole thing. I later found out, while telling another female friend about this incident, that this particular gynecologist was known for being horrible to patients, and she thanked me for doing what she wished she had.

(Some thirty-plus years ago, my mother is giving birth. The doctor has just come in from doing a hysterectomy and is not paying the best of attention. Fortunately, all is going well, and my brother is born safely. Then, this happens.)

Doctor: “It’s a girl!”  

Dad: *takes one look* “That’s no girl.”  

(Punchline: last summer, my brother came out as my transgender sister.)

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(This happens when I get sick during middle school. My mother brings me to urgent care to get me checked out.)

Doctor: “Looks like she’s managed to catch this year’s flu.” *gives usual instructions for dealing with it* “After her temperature has been normal for a full day she can go back to school.”

Mom: “Just one day?”

Doctor: “Yes, that should be long enough.”

(My mother tells me on the car ride home that she found this odd. Before, when my brother or I have gotten sick like this, our regular doctor has instructed her to keep us home until our temperature was normal for two full days. But, he’s the doctor, right? He must know what he’s talking about. So, once my fever has been down for a day, I go back to school. The day starts out fine, but on the bus ride home I start to feel really cruddy. I tell my mom how I’m feeling, and we end up going into urgent care again. A nurse comes in to talk to us first, and my mom tells her about my last visit there.)

Nurse: “He said to send her back after only one day of feeling better? Seriously?!”

(She was pretty incredulous that such instructions had been given. The checkup proceeded, and it turns out I’d caught pneumonia. That most likely happened because I’d gone back to school before my immune system was able to fully bounce back.)

(I go to a doctor’s office where you have a regularly-prescribed doctor but if they are out, you get another that works in that specific building. I have been suffering from extreme menstrual pains ever since I started and have been to the doctor many times to find a solution, getting dumb answers — such as when I tell them I’ve lost about 50 pounds over six months and they tell me that I’m not watching my weight — but this one takes the cake.)

Newer Doctor: “I see you’ve been here for this problem before. What did [Regular Doctor] say?”

Me: “The last time I was here, he suggested [pain reliever] and to stop eating dairy completely, and if that didn’t work, he was going to prescribe me [birth control].”

Newer Doctor: “Oh, no, no, no. We are not going to put you on a pill to mess with all your hormones. You should go on a diet and you’ll start to feel better.”

Me: “But I’m already on the Keto diet. Do you want me to start eating ice?”

Newer Doctor: “I don’t believe that! I’ve seen your records of weight, and you’ve lost a lot, but you need to lose much more!”

Me: “Isn’t the suggested weight 180 pounds? I’m 195. At this rate, I’ll be 140 before summer!”

Newer Doctor: “That’s good! A doctor should always tell you to lose weight! I hate when I go to the doctor and they just try to change everything about my body.”

Me: *thinking* “Isn’t that exactly what you’re doing?!”

(I took her advice with a grain of salt and went back when my regular doctor got back. I started taking the pill and it has helped significantly!)

(After a couple of years of not being able to go to counseling for my various issues, I am trying out a new practice with my new insurance. This occurs during the initial interview with the physician’s assistant who is supposed to help me choose a counselor.)

Me: “And I sometimes feel like, whatever decision I make will be the wrong one, just because I made it…”

Physician’s Assistant: *without looking up from her notes* “Oh, don’t feel like that.”

Me: “Um, I’m sorry?”

Physician’s Assistant: “You shouldn’t feel like that. It’s not helpful.” *finally looking up at me* “So, what were you saying?”

(That was the last time I went to that office. I have to wonder how many years of schooling this woman had under her belt, and still somehow thought it was a brilliant idea to tell someone with severe depression and anxiety that all their problems would be solved if they just “don’t feel like that”!)