I am explaining to the doctor what is going on with my
daughter and the not eating and the information I have gathered. The doctor
looks at my daughter and says “okay now that I have listened to your mom go on
and on about why you won’t eat, can you tell me why you won’t eat?” Then not
even giving my daughter a chance to explain she starts asking her questions
such as if her stomach hurts or if she hasn’t been able to poop etc. I felt
brushed off and not taken very seriously. I am the mother, I know more about
day to day issues that are going on and of course if a seven year old has
diarrhea all day yesterday it will feel like it was for longer then a week.
Just because I have anxiety listed in my medical records, just because my
parents have history of depression and mental issues that have now become a
part of my medical record doesn’t mean I am exaggerating what is going on with
my own child. None the less I took her to a different doctor who knows nothing
of my history, I got a real diagnoses for her and was taken way more seriously
and she is now better and I realized at that very moment I will never again
share the same doctor as my children. My circumstantial labels should never
effect or jeopardize my child’s medical issues.
My goal is for this to be a blog about healing the soul, a blog that may talk about abuse as well as surviving, but not to be a victim. If anybody wants to be a guest blogger feel free to let me know.
Wednesday, July 8, 2015
A parents medical history shouldn't effect their children.
I have learned the hard way if you are “labeled” with any
sort of mental disorder on your medical records; sharing a doctor with your
child and wanting to be taken seriously is a joke. Of course at the same time
having these records hanging over your own head and wanting to be taken
seriously is also a joke. None the less I learned my lesson on ever sharing the
same doctor as my children, and this mistake will never happen again. My seven
year old daughter decided she wasn’t going to eat anymore. I couldn’t figure
out why, I was questioning her trying to get answers for which she told me a
boy called her fat. I was so upset and so unsure how to handle this and had
nobody to reach out to for support not even my own mother who also turned it
into something else that it wasn’t. My frustration with my mother and her lack
of motherly skills is a completely different post that you can read about here; My mother . We went to the
emergency room with no real answers except she had become dehydrated. This was
followed up with our family doctor who has been famous for labeling and
prescribing me whatever medications she can convince me to take. My medical
history hunts me and seems to follow me everywhere I go, never do doctors look
at anything as circumstantial, but rather labeled as disorders that follow you
for the rest of your life.
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