Down We Go...

I have sat down to write this post about a million times in the past year. The one when I tell you what has been at the forefront of my life for the past year, the one where I tell you how I became so depressed. But how does one write a story that makes them feel taken advantage of, foolish, vulnerable and culpable and then put it out on the net for everyone to read and judge? I've struggled wondering how much information was enough or too much. I've wondered if I would lose my whole 10 readers or if opinions of me would change. In the end, I've heard the voice in my head saying to me for weeks, WRITE. IT. DOWN. I guess today the voice in my head wins.

In order to get to the ending, we need to start at the beginning....

I do abusive relationships, I grew up in a household where there was child abuse, I married a verbally and physically abusive man (the first time), I dated a man who raped me and I continued to see a doctor who was verbally and physically inappropriate with me.

See a pattern here? I'm submissive to aggressive men. I have just recently put the pattern together, I find it difficult to believe I didn't see it sooner. Oddly, Joe is none of the above. He is kindhearted, caring and never abusive...though not perfect in any fashion (he does snore, sheesh.)

You all will remember when I first started seeing the surgeon for my elbow. What started as an innocent flirtation quickly became something odd and uncomfortable. I continued to see the surgeon because I thought I had no other options (thank you, HMO) he had already done the surgery, I had another surgeon (a second opinion) who had already turned me down saying, "he didn't want to touch anyone else's garbage."

So, my surgeon says my issue is my RA and my rheumatologist says its not. Insert a lot of fighting back and forth, a lot of putting Melissa in the middle, extreme pain, touching and inappropriate conversation from my surgeon and my rheumatologist acting like I was certifiably insane and I hit the skids hard.

I was trapped, I was uneducated, things got worse until finally I knew something had to give. After surgery, 5 cortisone injections and a billion appointments between the two doctors I finally asked for a referral to a doctor at Loyola.

Unfortunately, my surgeon sent me away that day with a wonderful parting gift that will stay with me for awhile. Ironically, my rheumatologist sent me to Loyola for a second opinion also(I still believe this was passive/aggressive punishment.)

Now imagine my excitement, that is until my MRI came back fine and my Loyola referral sent me to a doctor who told me I was hormonal and told me to get more sleep.

Pretty much at that point, I pulled myself up by my bootstraps and got back into life, albeit with a lot of pain. I went to counseling because I must be nuts since two rheumatologists said I was hormonal. I changed meds, I went to therapy, I got better....well, at least until I went looking for trouble...because that's what I do.

Here's where we usher in my foot pain. I'm told I need an injection...where do I go? Uhm yeah, my inappropriate surgeon, because I'm so much better I can handle it. I knew after the first appointment that I was in trouble...AND. I. STAYED. I could have never guessed just how aggressive these appointments would get in such a short time (one month exactly).

At the end, when all was said and done and I finally decided to leave I was an emotional wreck, I had a new cast on my left leg and I was looking for another surgeon (you know, because I didn't have a hacksaw to get the cast off).

Now lest you should think I have no responsibility or I'm the victim here, I am not...I have three things I am responsible for.

1. I went looking for trouble.
2. I found it AND. I. STAYED.
3. I made a huge mess when I finally left.

BUT. I. LEFT. And while it might not seem like any big shakes, it is. I knew if I stayed in this situation any longer I would pay for it with my sanity and possibly my life and that was a huge realization for me. IT. MATTERED. THAT. MUCH.

After a few weeks and a lot of therapy (a new diagnosis of PTSD, because I have a lot in common with the men and women that fight to defend our country...NOT!) and even more med changes (and a rash thrown in there for good luck) I reported my surgeon.

And I felt guilty, I felt as if I was trying to get revenge on my surgeon for hurting me. And I worked hard to let that thought go...and today is the day that it hit me....it wasn't revenge, I. JUST. STOOD. UP. FOR. MYSELF. Plain and simple!

As a doctor there is a way to touch or examine a patient that is ethical, that is professional, that is expected. As a doctor there is a way to comfort a patient in a way that is ethical, professional and expected. If you feel that your doctor is not touching you in one of the above ways, leave.

One of the things that I was most concerned about was telling my PCP that something unprofessional was happening. I mean how do you have that conversation? "Uhm, a yeah, my doctor is saying and doing weird stuff to me..." or "my relationship with my doctor is inappropriate." I used the second. It felt to me almost as if I had said that "uhm, hey yeah, I'm sleeping with my doctor." Which is so far from the truth...but how do you say that? Uhm yeah, my relationship with my doctor is inappropriate and by the way, I'm not sleeping with him." Yeah, you can understand why I would think twice about dropping that bomb.

So not only was I feeling weird about my surgeon, I was now concerned my PCP was going to think I was a wackjob, too. (By this point are you screaming at me and banging your head on a wall because I didn't leave sooner...uhm yeah, me too) Thankfully, when I did call things went very smoothly, at no time did I feel as if they were doubting me, they asked me if I would like them to report him and they were extremely helpful in finding me a new surgeon (to bad they couldn't do this sooner.)

Now you may wonder why I tell you this story. I thought I was a pretty intelligent person, I have doctored most of my life with RA and I used to feel pretty confident that I could represent myself with any doctor. And yet, here I am...if you had ever told me this would happen to me I would have laughed...and yet, here I am. Please, don't let this happen to you (I know, you're all thinking you are to smart for that...I thought that once, too.) Learn from my experience. I 100% know this doctor is going to do this again to some unexpecting, vulnerable woman who isn't 100% on her game and it makes me sick. But the best thing I can do is tell my story, hope people hear it and learn from it.

In the meantime, the best thing I can do is forgive myself for staying in a bad situation, protect myself and begin to heal.