This is a follow-up on my story about ‘becoming a person with limited mobility’. It started while travelling, I got a first diagnosis in Beijing, and then the whole situation of revalidating (ahem, sitting on the couch) got me frustrated quite a bit which you can read here and here and here. I’m slowly writing from ‘the past’ to ‘the present’ and will write a 2, maybe 3 part story about ‘my final diagnosis’. Hope you’re still with me!
There was this moment on the second visit to my doctor in Rotterdam where he looked at his computer screen and just simply told me "so we won’t/can't look for progress on your situation. But once your pain gets worse we will take a new scan of your bones to confirm indeed the bone has deformed in some way."
As I wrote before: I did not agree at all with this approach. I needed to KNOW my progress. Not just get a confirmation when the situation got worse. I needed to be ABLE to plan ahead. A situation where you only can live in doubt, where everyday your bone could ‘collapse’, get deformed forever, where every step you take every move you make (haha) would be at your own risk? That’s not a way of living. At all.
At some point I looked at the doctor, frustrated by his seeming lack of interest.
“How can I then decide if I’m able to travel again?” [No response]
“I’m a photographer, I can’t work if I can’t fully use my foot, maybe ever again, how will I know if I can get back to work again?” [No response]
“Or… Or… Even get pregnant, start a family? Are you telling me I will not know if my bone is regrown enough to be able to carry the weight of a growing belly? Since it’s apparently even dangerous to carry my _own_weight?”
At that point in the one-sided ‘conversation’ it was not about me actually wanting children. There was this deep force inside me that just wanted to Wake. The. Docter. UP! Why deed he seem to lack compassion, the will to help me?
Surprisingly, this worked. After those words he finally looked up from his screen. Looked me in the eye. And said the words: “Ah, yes, you’re still young, of course you want to plan your life!”
Even though I was happy that in the end I got him to feign interest it still baffles me:
- I had to bring up my potential motherhood to get the doctor interested. Me wanting to travel or my need to understand if and when I could go back to work? Not a reason for him to look up from his screen. A woman wanting a baby really should not be the only reason for a doctor to care, right?
- Also, age? This too should NOT determine if I deserve, or need, or get a doctors’ attention. I know women are often seen as over complaining. I know fat people often get to hear ‘lose weight first’ before real tests happen on them. I know old people are often treated as if their lives are worth less only because the years they have left are short. And let's not speak of people who don't speak certain languages or come from certain backgrounds.
It makes me sad, angry and a bit shocked by how people sometimes get treated by doctors. I’m a highly educated and white person, I know how to speak a doctors’ language. I never go to a doctor alone to prevent my emotions from forgetting all the stuff I want to ask or hear/remind. But there’s so many many people who will never be able to speak a doctors language and wake him up from his disinterest.
I did get lucky with my house doctor. She already had put me on the (long) waiting list of a specialist hospital for a second opinion even before I’d seen my first doctor.
So that’s what I’ll write about in the follow up post: the final diagnosis that I got from a lovely doctor that actually looked me in the eye and was inspired and willing to help me.
All pictures on steemit.com/@soyrosa are created and edited by me, Rosanne Dubbeld, 2001-2018. Contact me if you want to discuss licensing or collaborations on creative projects :-)