A few years ago I went through a period of extreme fatigue, I don't mean "meh I'm sleepy" I mean there were times were I'd go to bed at 10pm and wake up at 5pm the next day despite alarms, multiple phone calls, and people banging on my door. If someone did manage to talk to me I was basically a different person and had no recollection of the conversation(I'm told I was either very unpleasant or I would just start crying). Oh, and after this marathon sleep I'd still be ready for bed by 10/11 and I'd sleep through the night, it was just unpredictable when I'd wake up.
I started missing work so I started making doctors appointments, I was desperate to get seen asap since "I can't wake up" is understably questionable so the first appointment I could get from any doctor was a random male gyno I had never seen before. I didn't really care who the doctor was as I was fairly certain I was just going to get blood work done, when I arrived they told me I was due for a pap and since I was already there why not. I undress and sit on the table in my paper towel dress, Dr John comes in (alone) and we're chatting about why I'm there. I mention the extreme fatigue, just wanting to get checked out in general, blah blah blah.
He's very nice and it's a pleasant conversation, he's going through my chart and he asks why I take Zoloft. I tell him I have anxiety and depression; But that I already reached out to my psychiatrist and she didn't think it was the issue, the time frame doesn't match up.
The next coversation is verbatium and lives rent free in my head to this day. My responses are italicized.
What do you have to be sad about?"
...What?
"Why are you sad?"
Is this a joke?
"Not at all, if you think back far enough you can find the cause"
Are you a psychiatrist?
"No, but my wife works in the field, we talk about it, I deal with it heresometimes."
While naked, under what wouldn't even pass as a curtain, I explained to this gynecologist that my mental illness is a family heirloom that has been passed down on my father's side for generations. I'm just the first to treat it with something other than alcohol. And are there any other doctors who can see me?
He threw his hands up in the air, strolled out of the room and loudly announced with a scoff that "she wants a different doctor!"
I am not proud to admit that as soon as he left the room I started sobbing and like any other adult I called my mom who tried to talk me down but suggested I talk to the office manager before I leave. After a bit a women doctor came in, I'm not certain she knew what she was walking into because she was a bit shocked when the first thing I said to her was "wHaT dO you HaVe To Be SaD aBoUT?!" But she listened to me vent for a moment, and then we got through the rest of the appointment.
On my way out I asked to speak to the office manager, she was skeptical because "But Dr. John is so nice everyone loves him!" However why would I know his wife works in mental health unless he explicitly told me? Kiwi-sisters seeing the dots connect on her face was hashtag validating. I clarified a few times that he didn't do anything sexually inappropriate or make me uncomfortable in that way, but he was a tactless, insensitive, arrogant prick.
Their first concern was my current mental health (least I name them in my suicide note and mail it to every news station I suppose) and I told them that I would be fine, but if 5 years ago a medical professional had asked me "What do you have to be sad about?" I'd probably have fucking killed myself. I don't see my psychiatrist for a pelvic exam, I didn't come to my gyno for my mental heath.
What got me in retrospect is how fucking low his opinion of his wife and her career is. They've talked about it, as if that's all it takes to understand a profession that requires (roughly?) 12 years of education, with constant further education. My husband operates heavy machinery, can I hop up in the driver's seat? If he can operate a crane surely I can! We've talked about it before!
I checked back on the practice a few months later and he I didn't see him on the providers page, hopefully he didn't suggest to a new mother with PPD "You have a beautiful baby, how can you be sad?"
For anyone curious it turns out I had testosterone levels lil pooners can only dream of, that combined with some low vitamin levels just had me all sorts of fucked up.
