do not die in your politeness: agitate for yourself

I am only a couple weeks into the medical aspect of this maybecancer shit and I’ve already fired my first doctor.

Listen up: if you rush me because you think I’m a hysterical woman and therefore miss a 1.4cm short axis mass in my lymph node, expect to be fired.

Expect me to go around you. Expect me to call on my own behalf. Expect me to clog your phone line.

If you dismiss me because you read on my chart that I’m Autistic, you’re in for a world of hurt, and you won’t be my doc for long. If you tell me you’ve sent a referral and you in fact have done no such thing, expect me to drop-kick you to the moon.

After 48 hours of being jerked around, I have quit my expensive specialist (and I low key want my money back, that I don’t have to waste) and am now into the excellent public health system. Shame on me for ever doubting it, tbh.

I am so furious at the way women are gaslit by old men in medicine. I used to accept this, and I would say nothing because I was worried I would offend my doctor. I accepted some really awful treatment and I did not stand up for my own care.

Now I am the last person who is likely to cop it laying down. Fuck politeness - today I took over, and handled shit myself, and lo and behold I am now on the books and speeding towards the tests and treatment I need to stay alive. Within an hour of taking over, my files were in front of the right people.

Self-advocacy gets the goods. And when you only have one life, and your little kid relying on you to stay alive, offending men in white coats means sweet fuck all. I really don’t care about their feelings. I want them to do their job; and if they won’t, they can get out of the way and let someone else do it.

Hot tip also: make timelines. They help.

Here’s to the public system, and onward ho to a needle in the face and making some progress on these nasty little nodes.