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This time last year, I finally got diagnosed with Fibromyalgia. Prior to diagnosis, I had been suffering for over a year. Things got really bad last fall when I started my nursing clinical classes. It was never ending pain and relentless fatigue. I still don't know how I did it
The breaking point came when I was not sleeping and getting symptoms of a heart attack. I went to see an NP at my primary care office. She told me there was nothing wrong with me. That I just had to lose weight. She didn't even call to tell me. Just left a note in my records
I cried that night then I drove myself to MGH emergency room at night. I was in the emergency room for hours because my symptoms were not critical. All they had to go by was my pain. And of course being fat, it seemed like not a big deal. But I stayed until I saw a doctor
I will never forget the moment he told me, I believe you. I believe that you are in pain. I am just not sure what is going on with you. He referred me to rheumatology. The next day I got a call from MGH basically telling me not to waste resources by coming into the ER.
Anyway, before I could see rheumatology, my actual PCP called me in for an office visit. She asked me if I was okay talking to a med student. I said yes. I was sure it was going to be another dismissive visit. But he listened. He listened and listened and wrote down so many notes
Then he disappeared and left me in the office. I was there so long the lights went off. Then the med student and my PCP came back. Then she apologized for noticing before that my symptoms lined with Fibromyalgia. I got a prescription that day.
BTW, I don't blame my PCP because it was only her second time seeing me. My other PCP before was a resident who was really dismissive and more interested in checking off my visit than listening.
Anyway, so I started my medication a couple of weeks later because I had finals. I absolutely hated myself for the first 2 weeks on the medication. I feel nauseous, tired, cranky and all kinds of uncomfortable. But one day I woke up and I was pain free
Like magic, the medication kicked in and I was able to function again. I could actually cook my own meals and clean my dishes. I could work. I could do things I hadn't done in month. All of this because one doctor dared to believe my pain was real.
As a nursing student now, I want to end this cycle of abuse. This idea that fatness/blackness exempts us from compassion has to gi. We need to create a healthcare culture of compassion instead of dismissal. Patients are depending on us to make living in their bodies easier.
Anyway, happy anniversary to me and my renewed ease in my body. A year ago I won't have imagined how much easier it would be to be me.
