Written by Aimee Claire Timmins.
As women we face sexism and shame everyday of our lives, on a spectrum of degrees. Here’s just one situation I came up against recently.
I had lost a bit of weight in a short period of time, roughly 7-8kgs in 6 weeks, so I went to my GP for a full check-up. After a routine blood test, my white blood count was revealed to be a little low; as well as a few other symptoms. We all have family medical history; mine was bowel and ovarian cancer both on my father’s side. My grandfather passed away from bowel cancer just before I was born. My Dad has had to be extremely vigilant regarding his health over the years, and it seemed it was my turn to do the same. I informed my doctor of all this and she wrote me a referral to get an abdominal CT scan.
In my world, a CT scan isn’t something I do on the regular, so at 33 years old this was my first time. As an (obvious) non-medical professional, my knowledge of what the scan entailed was limited. The only facts I had were there are only 2 main reasons having one: 1. bone and joint problems. 2. cancerous tumours. As you can imagine, there was a certain level of fear and anxiety attached to the procedure for me. [Side note: don’t fall down the Google ‘self-diagnosis’ rabbit hole – you’ll step away from your computer thinking you’re dying and may not make it through the night.]
So I jumped into action and did what I was told; I made the appointment and fasted for 4 hours prior knowing I would be there for a total of 1.5hrs. Great! Easy done.
Now remember, I had never done this before and we don’t seek answers to questions we don’t know to ask. The day of appointment, I arrived at the surgery and filled in the necessary paperwork. As I took a seat in the reception area, an attendant gave me a large cup filled with liquid to drink. Obviously a medical solution – this was by no means a complementary margarita.
“What is this for?” I asked.
“For the scan,” came the reply, “drink it slowly. Over the next forty minutes.”
Um ok. Questions then – is this in addition to the 1.5hrs I’m here for (I’m in a 2 hour parking spot)? What does this mystery (gross) solution do? Why am I drinking it? How long does the actual scan take? It’s a pandemic and I’m an unemployed actor, dude. I can’t be throwing away $100 on parking fines! Cocktail Hour passed and I was finally ushered into the scanning room. I removed my clothes and popped on this season’s beautiful navy (hospital) gown. Farshion dahhhling. As I made my way to the CT machine and lay on the bed, the technician said she was to inject me with dye. Err….ok. This is the first I’m hearing of this, but hey! Why not? She said I would feel hot flushes, including ‘down there’, and definitely not the good kind, let me tell you. More like the ‘this is weird and scary and I have no control over it’ kind. As the bed started to move back into the machine, the anxiety shakes became full body tremors…all I could do was close my eyes and hope it would be over soon. The nurse instructed me to listen to the voice. Voice? What voice? Am I hearing voices now? Upon reflection, that voice was the most understanding, supportive and helpful one I’d heard since I made my appointment. In an effort to not discriminate, I named the voice Stevie; I didn’t want to assume I knew what gender Stevie preferred to identify with. The voice gently told me when to breath in and out during a time when calm was the only way through. Thanks Stevie.
Cut to the imaging done and Stevie and I had said our goodbyes, I re-dressed, nursing a super sore left arm with injection remnants still attached. Eventually, the attendant handed me my scans. But alas… the name on the envelope was not mine. Mate, that isn’t my name. “Oh LOL,” came the reply, “too much coffee!”. OH LOL? Do I look like I’m laughing?
After some fussing, I finally took MY envelope with MY scans and left. Curtain down on the CT scan show, featuring Stevie. After I left the surgery, I was pretty proud of myself that I had completed this scary exercise alone and kept my cool throughout the entire process.
Stevie would agree I gave a great performance.
At this point, I’m sure you’re thinking ‘girl, how is it you don’t know what is meant to happen at a CT scan? Are you ignorant/stupid?’. Well neither. First time people! I had assumed that my doctor, the radiology staff or ANY of the staff would talk me through the process. Never assume, kids.
Later that day I relayed the whole experience to my mother and she was shocked; both with the lack of upfront information and the lackadaisical handing over of someone else’s scans. She encouraged me to call the surgery to ask them to double check that the images were mine and provide some customer feedback. Sure! I have no problem speaking my mind, I am a Scorpio after all… surely there’s no harm in double-checking all relevant details.
Over the phone (to the Clinic Manager), I expressed my concerns over a possible scan mix-up. After some discussion – tick, the scans are mine – and so, relief. I was grateful for the help. Then, as the conversation began to wrap up, I decided to share my experience in a little more detail – and give some feedback on how to perhaps better assist CT first-timers.
But then came the barrage of defensiveness; the surgery has policies and procedures (yep, obviously). Our Head Office dictates our practices (sure, ok). It’s a general standard (right, understood). At no time was I given the opportunity to speak and I became lost in the words of medical jargon, what happens at their head office and the defending of staff members.
The discussion then finished with an “Ma’am, I understand you’re emotional.”
And….crickets.
Sorry, what? I’m emotional? Nope, wrong answer and I can absolutely show you emotional if that’s what you’d like. But you’ll have to buy a ticket to the theatre that is currently closed!
‘Thank you, goodbye’.
Did this ‘medical professional’ just shame me for double-checking my scans ended up in the right hands? My scans that could potentially reveal cancer? Did he just make ‘emotional’ sound like a dirty word? I considered (briefly). Was I being ‘emotional’ during that conversation? Err, no! Was I being precious to want to check my information? Again, no! Did he shame me unnecessarily for being a responsible young woman? YES. Well if I wasn’t ‘emotional’ during that conversation, I definitely had some feelings now.
And even if I was… what is wrong with that? Absolutely nothing. Would he have said this to a man? I think we probably know the answer to that.
HUGE day. I got a CT scan for the first time, was shamed and labelled ‘emotional’ after facing an anxious situation, overwhelmingly kept my cool and then wrote this article. If that’s what responsible and or ‘emotional’ women can achieve in one day, well – mic drop. Someone who shames someone else for stepping up, should be shamed themselves. But then I wouldn’t be any better (so I wrote this article instead).
Ladies (and men), pay attention to your body, get checked, know your family history, and don’t ever let someone try to hush you when facing medical upheaval. Take responsibility; there is never a stupid question.
You decide what’s right, you decide what’s good – Stephen Sondheim
