How Health-Shaming Led To Substance Abuse.
TRIGGER WARNING: HEALTH-SHAMING, DOCTOR’S SURGERIES, MEDICAL TERMINOLOGY, SUBSTANCE ABUSE, DEPRESSION
A few years ago, after suffering with a sore throat for a number of weeks, I decided to visit my doctor (being in full-time employment I’d tend to avoid spending my day off in a waiting room so I’d only ever make an appointment when things were really bad).
What happened in his office sent me into a traumatic shame-spiral from which I barely escaped with my life.
I was asked by the “doctor” if I smoked. I answered “yes” even though I couldn’t see what relevance my recreational habits should have to my medical problem.
The doctor then looked accusingly at me over the rim of his glasses and asked me how much I smoked. By now I was becoming quite nervous. I could sense his attitude towards me was becoming extremely hostile and it was quite obvious that he didn’t agree with my lifestyle even though it was none of his business.
“About 20 a day, I suppose” I said, trying to keep a note of fear from my voice.
“Well, I suggest you cut down. It’s having a negative impact on your health and your sore throat is directly linked to smoking cigarettes.”
I was absolutely stunned. I felt the world tilt and grow deafeningly loud as the room started to spin. He had sent me into a full blown panic attack. I vaguely remember diving for the door, and darting out. I barely managed to escape, stumbling and falling against the walls, desperately trying to escape the fortress of oppression as the feeling of panic engulfed me.
I’d come to be cured of an illness, by a supposed medical professional, and he had sat there and JUDGED ME! The emotional pain was incredible.
For weeks afterwards I couldn’t sleep. I’d stay up for hours, smoking, watching late night shopping channels and biting my nails. My mind was forever turning to the humiliation I was subjected to and, inevitably, I began self-harming.
My weapon of choice was not a razor or a knife but lettuce. I’d gorge myself on cold, crispy, iceberg lettuce. I’d devour the stuff with no thought for myself, bite after bite. I knew my lettuce intake was becoming abusive, was actively harming my body, but I just didn’t care. At one point I was eating half a lettuce A DAY.
I’d regularly find myself naked in public and covered with half eaten lettuce leaves with no recollection of what had happened or how I had got there. I couldn’t see a way out.
The cycle of self-harm only stopped when my local shop closed down and my access to a quick lettuce-fix was dealt a severe blow. The nearest greengrocer was over a mile away and I can’t drive. There was only one thing to do.
I went cold turkey (perhaps cold-leaf is a more apt term) and eventually, after a withdrawal hell I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy, the edge went from my cravings and I started the long road to recovery (no thanks to the medical profession!).
Maybe if doctors thought about the impact of their “advice” then cases like this would be less common? Maybe if medical shaming was a criminal offence I wouldn’t have had to live with the nightmare of substance addiction?
Whatever happens, I’d advise you NOT to visit the doctor if you have a medical problem. We’re fortunate enough to live in a world where the entire history of medicine is available at our fingertips on Google and Wikipedia. I suggest we use these sites to our advantage, for the good of our health.
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