Dr. Pervert!
This was the first time that I went to a real gastroenterologist. No joke, I was like a kid in a candy store. I remember thinking “Finally! I won’t be solely offered meta-mucil and sent on my way!!”
Oh how naive I was.
This provider was not through my university as I was eager to finally get a fresh perspective, with real answers, and maybe have some sort of tests done. The downside of this, however, was that I also had to pay a lot for the uber to and from the facility, as well as a co-pay. In total, it was about $80 but I didn’t care because I thought I was gonna finally change my life.
Prior to coming to the appointment, I took the time to type down in my notes all of the concerns that I wanted to be sure to bring up, because it can be hard to advocate for yourself when you’re battling symptoms that are hard to pinpoint. Once the doctor came into the room, I immediately knew that this appointment wasn’t going to go the way I wanted it to. From the jump, I could tell that he was in a rush to go. He hurried in, briefly introducing himself, and began asking me preliminary questions so that he could determine the type of testing I would need. He started off by asking me the basics about school like what I majored in and what a typical day looked like for me. Here’s how it played out:
“Hey Favour, how are you??”
“I’m good, how are you?” I replied with a small smile.
“I’m doing well, thanks for asking! So before we get started with anything formal, I just want to get a sense of who you are and what your days usually look like. What are you studying in school?”
“I’m majoring in psychology,” I said.
“Ah, that’s a tough one—but really interesting. What made you choose that?”
“I’ve always been curious about how the brain works, especially how it connects to behavior and mental health.”
“Very cool. And what does a typical day look like for you?”
I paused for a second. “Well, I usually wake up around 7 or 8, go to class, squeeze in a workout, eat lunch, and then study for most of the afternoon or evening. I’m also involved in a few clubs, so sometimes I have meetings or events, then eat dinner after that.”
He nodded, jotting things down. “Okay, interesting… so you don’t eat breakfast?”
I blinked, confused. “Oh—no, I do! I just forgot to mention it.”
But it was too late. He latched onto that one omission like it was gospel.
He then launched into a full-blown tangent about how that’s obviously why I’m constipated: because breakfast is the most important meal of the day. He told me I shouldn’t ignore my body’s “urges to go” and that skipping breakfast throws the whole system off. He also casually tossed in that, since I’m a typical college student, I probably eat like junk anyway.
I just sat there, mildly stunned, realizing how quickly a small slip in my description had spiraled into a whole narrative about my eating habits and bathroom schedule— which none of it was even true. Despite me trying to convince him, he just immediately said “Welp, looks like we won’t need to be ordering any tests anymore,” he said as he threw his head back, chuckling, and began inching towards me to do a physical exam.
By this point, I was already very frustrated and confused, but the physical made things a thousand times worse.
When he started feeling around my stomach, he didn’t even bother to wear gloves. He then proceeded to lift up my bra and additionally got way too low around the panty area. Now I’m no doctor, and I know exams have to be thorough, but I’m smart enough to know when something doesn’t feel right. Once he was done, he just printed out a paper with the instructions of “take miralax” and sent me on my way. I was burning out of frustration, sadness, and stress all at once. While I was waiting for my uber, I broke down into tears. I tried hard to conceal it, but I no longer could. I felt violated and stupid. The cold air stung my face as I reflected on all the should haves and could haves. I could’ve mentioned that I wasn’t really comfortable with him touching me. I should’ve made it clear that I wanted to be examined for potential disorders. My mind continually raced.
What I thought was supposed to be the life-changing moment of my life made me realize that I may never get the answers I was looking for. A few days later, I decided to take my anger and do something about it. I reached out to him via the email portal explaining how I DO in fact eat breakfast everyday and would appreciate it if he would’ve at least taken the time to administer me any type of test like a test for gluten sensitivity, because pasta was something that I consumed on a day to day basis. He reviewed the message and just sent me the form to get tested for Celiac disease. Thankfully, I ended up not having celiac disease but I was still stumped as to what was going on within my gut. While I was happy that I got the “last laugh” in a sense, I hated how I had to be my own detective. I googled his name and was scrolling through the reviews to see if anyone else had felt any similar to how I’d been feeling. This is when I found various people echoing similar sentiments. One said,
My heart absolutely breaks for this woman. When you go to the doctor, you expect to be treated with the absolute best care imaginable. You expect all options to be exhausted and a genuine effort to be made. This brings the important conversation of doctors needing to listen to their patients. It’s often a matter of life and death, and every encounter that someone has with a physician, has the power to change their outcome.
Ever since this day, I have not been to another provider about my gut issues. I understand that this isn’t reasonable and I can’t even necessarily pinpoint exactly why. Maybe it's because I’m tired of feeling stupid. Maybe I don’t want to be given MiraLAX and sent on my way. Maybe it is all in my head. The crazy thing about all of this is that online communities on reddit, YouTube videos, and research articles have all been providing me the most help while navigating this difficult situation.