Entry tags:
no, listen, I'm right here seeing it
I had a computer problem recently -- a recurring video GPU error, which meant a problem in the motherboard. Which, argh, but the computer is still under warranty, and I have at-home service. So a guy came over and replaced my motherboard (twice, long story involving service tags), and then there was a video display problem with lines on the screen indicating a connection problem with the last motherboard, so a different guy came over and replaced the LCD and the motherboard (again).
And, here is the thing: the second guy tried to convince me that there wasn't a problem after he replaced the LCD, because he didn't want to replace the motherboard. He didn't come out and say "oh, there isn't a problem," but he said things like "I don't see any lines" and "that's supposed to be there, it's part of the background texture," and "I don't think that will fix it, but I guuuuessss I could trrrrry," heaving a great sigh like this wasn't his job and he wasn't getting paid for it.
I find that sort of thing very difficult; it's hard for me to say, in the face of expert authority, "No. There is still a problem. Fix it." But I did, this time; I said "I still see lines." He said, "that's probably a screen resolution issue." I said, "No, this is the screen resolution I've always been set at, and there wasn't a problem until the most recent motherboard." He said, "It probably won't fix it." I said, "Try anyway." And finally he said, "okay, I'll put a new motherboard in."
Unsurprisingly, this fixed the problem.
***
I sometimes think about the way that people who are considered "experts," people who know more about the system than I am presumed to know, use social pressure and body language and leading questions to push me into denying my own experience.
And so my (white, male, expert) doctor says, "oh, that shouldn't hurt" casually, and I start to doubt myself: did it really hurt? Was it just uncomfortable? Or he says, "But you feel the pain when you're sitting down, too?" in an incredulous tone of voice, and I doubt myself: do I feel the pain when I sit down? Am I making too much of it?
I have joint and muscle pain. I have it pretty much all the time. My physical therapist is like, look, my goal is to get you down to maybe a two or a three on the scale of pain for general walking; we can't aim for no pain at all. And despite that, despite my lived experience, despite the fact that I am here in this body feeling this thing, seeing this thing, hearing my joints pop, I begin to wonder: Do I feel that? Is that pain there? Are those symptoms real? Am I complaining too much? (Hysterical, whining, weak, complaining, silly.)
And I don't think (most) doctors know how much they push people into denying their bodily experience. I don't think they're aware of the degree to which their prompting pushes people out of their bodies, makes them say: no, I don't see that. When my doctor says "and it's getting better?" I want to say yes; when my doctor says "but it's no big deal, right?" I want to say yes; when my doctor frowns when he pushes at my joints, looks dubious, looks skeptical, and then says "it's fine when I do this?" I want to say yes. Sometimes I do, sometimes I find myself saying "oh, yes" and "of course not" and "it's fine," and at the time I feel like it's fine, like it's normal, like it's no big deal -- and I feel that way because I have been pushed to ignore my body. I've believed what he's telling me, instead of believing what I feel. And I don't think most doctors know that they do it at all, let alone that they most often direct that kind of skepticism, that kind of attempt to get people to believe them instead of their own bodily experience, at women and people of color and queer folks and people with chronic pain. I don't think they know that when they say, oh, no, I'm sure you don't need stronger painkillers, and I say okay, that there is any sort of power dynamic there, that I am telling anything other than the truth -- that the truth I am telling is their truth.
I don't think (most) doctors know what it feels like, two hours later, to stop and say: yes, yes I saw that, it was there all along, why did I deny it; I felt that pain, my knee hurt, I wanted to ask more questions. And to stop and wonder: why didn't I? Why didn't I stand up to him? (Stupid, pushover, weak, silly.) Now I have to make another appointment, now I have to wait two more weeks, now I will feel even stupider going in and saying, yes, there is a problem, make it better -- even though maybe next time, I'll do it again, say yes again when I want to say no, I can still see the lines on the screen, they're right there, stop telling me I don't see them, they're right fucking there.
And, here is the thing: the second guy tried to convince me that there wasn't a problem after he replaced the LCD, because he didn't want to replace the motherboard. He didn't come out and say "oh, there isn't a problem," but he said things like "I don't see any lines" and "that's supposed to be there, it's part of the background texture," and "I don't think that will fix it, but I guuuuessss I could trrrrry," heaving a great sigh like this wasn't his job and he wasn't getting paid for it.
I find that sort of thing very difficult; it's hard for me to say, in the face of expert authority, "No. There is still a problem. Fix it." But I did, this time; I said "I still see lines." He said, "that's probably a screen resolution issue." I said, "No, this is the screen resolution I've always been set at, and there wasn't a problem until the most recent motherboard." He said, "It probably won't fix it." I said, "Try anyway." And finally he said, "okay, I'll put a new motherboard in."
Unsurprisingly, this fixed the problem.
***
I sometimes think about the way that people who are considered "experts," people who know more about the system than I am presumed to know, use social pressure and body language and leading questions to push me into denying my own experience.
And so my (white, male, expert) doctor says, "oh, that shouldn't hurt" casually, and I start to doubt myself: did it really hurt? Was it just uncomfortable? Or he says, "But you feel the pain when you're sitting down, too?" in an incredulous tone of voice, and I doubt myself: do I feel the pain when I sit down? Am I making too much of it?
I have joint and muscle pain. I have it pretty much all the time. My physical therapist is like, look, my goal is to get you down to maybe a two or a three on the scale of pain for general walking; we can't aim for no pain at all. And despite that, despite my lived experience, despite the fact that I am here in this body feeling this thing, seeing this thing, hearing my joints pop, I begin to wonder: Do I feel that? Is that pain there? Are those symptoms real? Am I complaining too much? (Hysterical, whining, weak, complaining, silly.)
And I don't think (most) doctors know how much they push people into denying their bodily experience. I don't think they're aware of the degree to which their prompting pushes people out of their bodies, makes them say: no, I don't see that. When my doctor says "and it's getting better?" I want to say yes; when my doctor says "but it's no big deal, right?" I want to say yes; when my doctor frowns when he pushes at my joints, looks dubious, looks skeptical, and then says "it's fine when I do this?" I want to say yes. Sometimes I do, sometimes I find myself saying "oh, yes" and "of course not" and "it's fine," and at the time I feel like it's fine, like it's normal, like it's no big deal -- and I feel that way because I have been pushed to ignore my body. I've believed what he's telling me, instead of believing what I feel. And I don't think most doctors know that they do it at all, let alone that they most often direct that kind of skepticism, that kind of attempt to get people to believe them instead of their own bodily experience, at women and people of color and queer folks and people with chronic pain. I don't think they know that when they say, oh, no, I'm sure you don't need stronger painkillers, and I say okay, that there is any sort of power dynamic there, that I am telling anything other than the truth -- that the truth I am telling is their truth.
I don't think (most) doctors know what it feels like, two hours later, to stop and say: yes, yes I saw that, it was there all along, why did I deny it; I felt that pain, my knee hurt, I wanted to ask more questions. And to stop and wonder: why didn't I? Why didn't I stand up to him? (Stupid, pushover, weak, silly.) Now I have to make another appointment, now I have to wait two more weeks, now I will feel even stupider going in and saying, yes, there is a problem, make it better -- even though maybe next time, I'll do it again, say yes again when I want to say no, I can still see the lines on the screen, they're right there, stop telling me I don't see them, they're right fucking there.
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And then three or two or one hour later (or on the way home), you get angry because either the doctor wasn't listening to you, or you never got to say what you wanted in the first place.
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I wish there were more professionals who pause and listen, but I think that a lot of them don't know that they're sort of bullying me with their professionalism.
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yes, exactly.
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And I don't think (most) doctors know how much they push people into denying their bodily experience. I don't think they're aware of the degree to which their prompting pushes people out of their bodies, makes them say: no, I don't see that. When my doctor says "and it's getting better?" I want to say yes; when my doctor says "but it's no big deal, right?" I want to say yes; when my doctor frowns when he pushes at my joints, looks dubious, looks skeptical, and then says "it's fine when I do this?" I want to say yes. Sometimes I do, sometimes I find myself saying "oh, yes" and "of course not" and "it's fine," and at the time I feel like it's fine, like it's normal, like it's no big deal -- and I feel that way because I have been pushed to ignore my body. I've believed what he's telling me, instead of believing what I feel.
rings so incredibly true to me. If I hadn't done what you do sometimes, what all of us do, maybe my knee would still be functioning, and I could still do sports, carry things etc. pp. But it's not simply me being weak and cowed, much as I often feel this is the case - it's exactly as you state: We live in a world where the so-called (and usually male) expert's voice is more believable than our own.
And where, ultimately, the expert cannot even be made liable. But that's another personal whine of mine for another day, another day in a country where medical professionals would never be witnesses against another medical professional; I shan't burden your lj with it.
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I don't really know the details of your "expert cannot even be made liable" -- if you'd like to talk about it, I'm happy to hear it! Here, I could sue my doctors for malpractice, if they screwed up a lot or obviously didn't listen to me, but I can't sue them for pushing me into saying the wrong thing, or for body language.
Also, I'm sorry about your knee -- that really sucks.
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I had the same problem and found that writing down my symptoms and perceptions before appointments helped a lot. It gave me something concrete to focus on when the doubtful noises began. :-/ But it's hard no matter what.
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I've also started writing a list of things; I've found that my good doctor respects the list, and that my not-so-good doctor looks amused and skeptical. (As if he doesn't believe that earlier!me was telling the truth about my body, or something.) I sometimes forget, but it's a good strategy regardless!