In my twenties, I was denied a medically necessary hysterectomy because I “might meet a man who wants kids”
I fought for years to get the surgery, spending weeks out of every month stuck in a hospital bed needing iron and blood transfusions. Too disabled to work. Fainting almost daily. In constant pain.
No matter how sick I got, the hypothetical future husband and baby came before my health. What these imaginary beings might want was more important than what I needed.
When I finally had the surgery, I had a severe post operative complication. The surgeon didn’t believe me. She sent me home.
I had to go to the ER four times before they found the life threatening internal bleed. Each time dismissing me as “attention seeking” or accusing me of not understanding some pain was to be expected.
My then boyfriend saved my life. He got loud and refused to take me home, saying he was convinced I would die.
It turns out, he was right. I had a giant bleed in my belly and an infected abscess that had been growing for weeks while they gaslit and ignored me.
It was a hell of a crash course in medical misogyny, as well as the need to always have an advocate in healthcare settings:
