Doctors Ignored My Pain Until My White Male Partner Spoke Up
"Well, you're not going to bleed to death, are you?" Those were the chilling words a doctor in A&E uttered to me as I sat doubled over in excruciating pain. I was completely dumbfounded by the callous response. Earlier that day, I had made the difficult decision to attend A&E, gripped by fear that my symptoms wouldn't be taken seriously. My worst fears were being realised right before my eyes.
A Pattern of Dismissal and Neglect
I gripped the plastic seat tightly, trying to steady my voice before responding: "Are you even going to examine me?" I gestured toward my painfully bloated stomach. The doctor dismissed my concerns, telling me I would need to wait for a referral from my GP for a scan. I was sent home without any proper examination – no blood tests, no blood pressure reading, nothing. It seemed that once the doctor determined it was a women's health issue, he considered the matter closed. My pain simply didn't matter to him.
My health struggles began in March of this year. Before that, I maintained an active lifestyle with early morning exercise sessions and productive work blocks. Since spring, however, I could barely get out of bed, suffering from extreme fatigue and painful bloating that made my clothes unwearable. Everything reached a crisis point in September after returning from a friend's wedding in France. I could barely climb the stairs to our flat, feeling completely broken.
The Struggle for Recognition
My GP initially sent me for blood tests, but the results came back inconclusive. When I called again for help – by this point sleeping 14 hours daily in constant pain – the GP was dismissive, asking what more I wanted to happen. I felt confused and upset; I simply wanted to be seen, heard, and treated like a human being in distress.
A week later, with symptoms worsening unbearably, I made that first fateful trip to A&E. Being dismissed without examination left me feeling hopeless and abandoned by the healthcare system meant to protect me.
A Stark Contrast in Treatment
Later that week, as my symptoms and distended stomach worsened considerably, my fiancé accompanied me on a second trip to A&E. He hadn't been able to join me initially due to work commitments outside London. The difference in treatment was nothing short of astounding.
With my white male partner present, corroborating my account of symptoms, the doctor suddenly became more receptive and sympathetic. Emergency blood tests were actually performed this time, though I was still told to wait for a gynaecological scan. For weeks, I lived with extreme nausea and deteriorating mental health, feeling increasingly low and apathetic without any communication from my doctors.
The Private Healthcare Solution
This deteriorating situation forced me to seek private healthcare. Thankfully, I was in the fortunate position to afford it. Within a week of going private, I received a diagnosis – an issue with my uterus – and a proper treatment plan. The private doctors took their time, listened attentively, and made me feel genuinely heard for the first time.
Within a couple of weeks of starting treatment, I felt dramatically better. My physical symptoms began to dissipate, my mood improved, and I gradually returned to work, feeling more like myself again.
The Systemic Problem of Medical Bias
While I had the means to access private healthcare, countless women cannot afford this option. No woman should have to pay to be heard by medical professionals. It has been extensively documented that Black women's health concerns are under-researched and often treated less seriously than those of white counterparts. Studies reveal stark inequalities in diagnosis, treatment, and aftercare for Black women.
As a Black woman, I constantly consider how I present myself – how others perceive me based on my appearance, dress, and demeanour. Often when attending GP appointments, I'm unwell and wearing comfortable clothing like tracksuits. This, combined with my gender and race, makes me wonder whether healthcare professionals will take my pain seriously. On this occasion, they clearly did not.
Calls for Systemic Change
While I'm grateful for my eventual diagnosis, the experience of not being believed was profoundly traumatic. Awareness of racial bias in medicine is growing, with calls for better representation in medical textbooks and training materials. However, this awareness alone is insufficient.
We need explicit acknowledgement from healthcare authorities about the discrimination and prejudice that exists within the system. More importantly, we need concrete action to address these biases. There must be better education about unconscious bias, improved representation in healthcare, and greater empathy in women's healthcare provision.
No woman should have to fight to be believed about her own body. No Black woman should have to prove her pain is real just to receive basic medical care. And certainly, no woman should need to bring a white man to validate her experience before healthcare professionals will take her seriously. The system must change to ensure equitable treatment for all women, regardless of race or socioeconomic status.
