Ever had a run-in with a health care professional who acted like you were wasting their time, you were too stupid to understand the answers to the questions you were asking, or who just seemed ill-suited to the profession? Doctors are smart people, but it seems that along the way, some forget that they’re human beings. Ever wanted to shout, “Hey, it’s called healthcare for a reason!”? You’re not alone.

A good friend of mine, Sarah, has a family history of colon cancer. Her maternal grandmother died of it aged 65, her mother was diagnosed with it and operated on aged 45, and when she noticed some symptoms herself, at age 25, she was concerned. Sometime after having the colonoscopy and receiving the all-clear, Sarah went for a regular check up, but with a new doctor. The doctor she saw read her file and laughed. When she queried what was so funny, he asked, “Why on Earth would someone your age have a colonoscopy?” Needless to say, Sarah was shocked and hurt, but managed to retort, “Well not for the fun of it, I can tell you!” Now, it may very well be unusual for a 25 year old woman to have a colonoscopy, but the insensitivity shown by this doctor for her concern over a condition that killed her grandmother and nearly killed her mother was appalling.

But don’t think that female doctors are any more sympathetic than their male counterparts; some of them have also had their sensitivity chip removed. Rachel had a female obstetrician whom had been recommended as excellent. Unfortunately, as Rachel found out during labor, “excellent” referred to her credentials, not her bedside manner. In the middle of a series of very painful contractions, while Rachel writhed in agony, her obstetrician rolled her eyes and said, “Oh, come on. I’ve had two babies and it doesn’t hurt that much.”

“I couldn’t believe it.” Rachel later said. “How could she claim to know exactly what I was going through? Pain is different for everybody. Surely as a woman who has been through childbirth she should have been more sympathetic?”

Speaking of “not hurting that much”, I once had to suffer the indignity of a cervical punch biopsy after my pap smear results came back as irregular. The whole episode from start to finish was a disaster, and might have been funny had it not been true. The actual Pap smear was a calamity in itself, involving a speculum which was not positioned correctly, thereby pinching me internally as the examination was in progress.

A few days later, when I called the doctor’s office to get my test results, I spoke with an extremely unhelpful lab technician who looked over my results and proclaimed that “it didn’t look good”. My immediate thought was that I had cancer, and that I was going to die. I mean, what else could it be? A pap smear checks for cervical cancer, and if “it didn’t look good” I was hardly going to be given an award for Cervix of the Year. After trying to get more information from the technician, I was told I’d have to book an appointment with the doctor to go over the results. Really? After you’ve just given me my death sentence over the phone, I need to come in to get the results?

After a dreadful couple of days, (why can you never get an appointment on the day you need it?) my doctor went through the results with me. “It’s just an abnormal smear,” he assured me, “Lots of pap smears come back like this. You don’t need to worry. But we do need to submit you for some more tests.” FOR SOME MORE TESTS. That didn’t sound good. He wrote me a referral to a gynecologist, who would perform these tests – and then muttered something about “punch biopsy”. Now, even if you don’t know what a punch biopsy is, (and at the time I didn’t) it doesn’t sound good. Does anyone want to submit themselves to a medical procedure that involves the word “punch”? Should “punch” and “medical procedure” even be used in the same sentence?

My visit to the gynecologist confirmed my worst fears – a punch biopsy involved the removal of several cell samples (read “chucks of flesh”) from my cervix to be sent to the lab for further testing. I’ll come back to the “further testing” later. And did I mention that the removal of said chunks of flesh would be done without any form of anesthetic? According to the gynecologist, “the cervix has very few pain receptors, so numbing the area won’t be necessary.” Now, any woman who has had her cervix bumped or knocked the wrong way during a particularly vigorous love-making session will tell you that the cervix does indeed have pain receptors – lots of them.

So I won’t psychologically scar you with the in-depth debacle that followed, but the punch biopsy resulted in me weeping profusely as I left the doctor’s office clutching my cramping belly in one hand and a glass jar containing chunks of my cervix in the other, to deliver to the lab downstairs on my way out.

Upon my return to the gynecologist for the results (no more lab technician bedside manner for me, thank you very much) I was given the all clear. Apparently my pap smear was one of the many that comes back “abnormal” due to human error when performing the test. “Just what were these further tests actually for,” I asked. “Oh, various things. You don’t need to worry about that,” said the gynecologist.

I don’t need to worry about that? Parts of my cervix were taken for “further testing” and I don’t need to worry about what it was for? Perhaps it was because I was only 18 years old and not as assertive as I am now, perhaps it was because I was so relieved to find that I didn’t have cancer, whatever the reason, I didn’t question him any further. To this day I don’t know what I was tested for. Who knows what they did with my samples? They may have grown clones of me for organ donation, they may have grown cervixes for the black market, but whatever they did, they wouldn’t tell me.

To this day I am still bothered by this experience. Not only did I feel lost and helpless, I was subjected to painful medical procedures without any explanation of why, and without the offer of pain relief. But, every cloud has a silver lining, mine being that I no longer take crap from doctors. After this incident, if I visited a doctor and he refused to go into detail about what tests were for or what they involved, I walked. If I visited a doctor who acted like I was wasting her time with my medical complaint, I walked. After walking out of quite a few doctor’s offices, never to return, I am now pleased to say that I’ve found a great doctor. No, I have found the best doctor.

He is diligent, he listens to everything I have to say, he makes notes, he goes through all the things my symptoms aren’t, as well as all the things they could be and he is willing to take as long as I need to discuss things with him. He gives me pamphlets to read, directs me to web sites with more information, and is generally a lovely guy. And most of all, he treats me like a human being, worthy of respect and attention.

I also have a new gynecologist, and although I’ve never had to have another punch biopsy, I know he uses anesthetic (I asked). He also has a great pelvic examination chair, which is very much like a La-Z-Boy recliner, only with stirrups. It even has mirrors, for the adventurous and curious, and he’s never once told me “not to worry about it.”