\u201cGo home and have a martini,\u201d the first doctor advised me in 2005. I\u2019d just revealed how walking had become burdensome and how the fear of what was happening inside of me was equally as heavy as the symptoms themselves. I was expecting to be heard, validated and understood. Instead, I was told those six ludicrous words. But beyond some basic lab work, he offered nothing. No further testing. No medication. No referrals; simply a hypothetical script for a cosmopolitan. <\/p>\n
The next doctor insisted a breast exam was necessary after I described the weakness that turned my legs into Jell-O. Desperate for help, I was vulnerable and at the will of the physician. I lay there frozen as he touched my chest with his barbaric hands. The moment still replays in my mind two decades later, and I\u2019m not sure I can ever erase it. <\/p>\n
When I flew 1,100 miles to a world-renowned diagnostic facility, they repeated lab work I\u2019d already had, told me I had non-inflammatory musculoskeletal pain and recommended an exercise and behavior modification program to mentally change the way I react to my symptoms. I felt like a failure when biofeedback couldn\u2019t calm the inflammation surging in my nervous system. Years later, I read, \u201cdepressive-like symptoms,\u201d listed as a diagnosis from that visit and I started to understand that they saw the fear and worry resulting from the unknowns of this disease as the disease itself. <\/p>\n
\u201cWhy can\u2019t you show me?\u201d another doctor demanded of the muscle twitches that flickered throughout my body sporadically. He wanted me to prove my words through demonstration. But these involuntary fasciculations erupt of their own volition and cease with movement of that muscle. Eliciting them isn\u2019t an option. <\/p>\n
Early in my search, I poured my heart out to an infectious disease physician hoping to be met with empathy and concern. Instead, she demanded, \u201cLeave here and stop seeing doctors,\u201d as if I were clogging the medical system with my desire to live. Later, one of the many neurologists I saw insisted, \u201cYou need to stop searching,\u201d as if I were less deserving of a diagnosis than the patient before me. He said, \u201cNot everyone receives a diagnosis,\u201d but those words suggested I should look beyond this disease raging inside of me and go on living without knowing what it is or treating it, as if I could. <\/p>\n
Thankfully, I didn\u2019t listen.<\/p>\n
![\"The](\"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/uk\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/01\/695186702b000094c9683036.png\")
The author and her husband in 2025.<\/p>\n
Often, these doctors recommend exercise. \u201cPhysical therapy might help,\u201d they\u2019d suggest. \u201cYou\u2019re deconditioned,\u201d they\u2019d declare. But I\u2019d gone to bed one evening during the summer of 2005 with a fully functioning body and awoken the next morning with foreign symptoms. Deconditioning evolves over time and not in the darkness of one night.<\/p>\n
So, I pushed onward from one day to the next \u2014 one year to another \u2014 earning a graduate degree, getting married, and having children through it all. By 2016, I was so weak that I was climbing the stairs from a sitting position, struggling to hold down the car pedal, and unable to be the mother my children deserved. I needed a diagnosis above anything else, and in 2017, I finally received it.<\/p>\n
A lumbar puncture gave me the answer. In 2005, my brain MRI showed areas of demyelination consistent with multiple sclerosis, but a lumbar puncture \u2014 which is used to confirm suspected cases of MS \u2014 wasn\u2019t ordered until 2017.<\/p>\n
\u201cThey\u2019re non-specific,\u201d I was told of these darkened areas on my MRI. \u201cLikely from migraines,\u201d they claimed. As a migraine sufferer, I trusted them.<\/p>\n
Those two letters \u2014 MS \u2014 were daunting, but relief lifted layers of suffering like a morning fog. I began treatment, and my search was done. I thought I could put all of it behind me \u2014 and much of it is \u2014 but the trauma from being dismissed repeatedly follows me, a stark reminder of how I was doubted, questioned and ignored for over a decade.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou can come back now,\u201d the nurse said, her voice interrupting the toxic memories streaming in my mind. When I reached the exam room, I was jittery and weak; my MS symptoms worsen under stress. But this was more than simple appointment anxiety. This was over a decade of trauma built up to unbreakable measures. This was 13 years of neglect replaying in my mind. It was every time I\u2019d cried alone on the bathroom floor \u2014 my means of escape \u2014 after being questioned, dismissed, and ignored, echoing within me again.<\/p>\n
The empty feeling of hopelessness returns in an instant.<\/p>\n
I live with multiple chronic health conditions, so ongoing medical support is inevitable. My trust in health care providers is flawed from years of believing my best interest was of utmost importance when it wasn\u2019t. And when I meet a new doctor, I\u2019m prepared to be met with resistance \u2014 often, I still am. I review questions beforehand to ensure I sound educated and believable. I stifle my emotions as best I can so that doctors don\u2019t assume symptoms stem from mental health struggles. I strip my presentation down to a numbed version of myself because I\u2019ve learned that\u2019s what\u2019s more widely accepted \u2014 and then I pray they listen and find enough compassion to respond with empathy and concern. <\/p>\n
Every time I enter a doctor\u2019s office, I revert to the scared young woman struggling to walk, begging for help, yet disappearing into the depths of the health care system without being heard. <\/p>\n
The cycle never ends because the damage \u2014 and my journey itself \u2014 is carved into my being with permanence, but also because our health care system hasn\u2019t changed how it views women. Our words continue to be met with doubt.<\/p>\n
The neurologist that diagnosed me brought me back to life. When he announced his retirement, it felt as though the ground crumbled beneath me. \u201cI\u2019ll have to start all over again,\u201d I cried to my husband that evening. \u201cNo one else believed me,\u201d I sobbed through tears.<\/p>\n
By that point, the infusion I\u2019d been receiving for a few years had improved my strength and allowed me to return to many activities. I could visit my sons\u2019 classrooms for holiday parties, meander through museums with my family, and even take short walks through the mountains. Biking had returned to my life and walking through the sand at the beach was possible once again.<\/p>\n
I feared I\u2019d lose everything that had taken me so long to achieve. <\/p>\n
I envisioned the debilitated young mother I once was crawling up the stairs devoid of energy. I worried those darkest days of my life would return.<\/p>\n
When I visited the new neurologist\u2019s office, the resident \u2014 whom I saw first \u2014 began questioning me the moment he entered the room.<\/p>\n
\u201cCould you explain your symptoms a little further?\u201d he asked, his face lowered into my lengthy chart. At first, I did as I was told. The inferior, helpless patient within me resurfaced. <\/p>\n
But questions from long ago were being thrown at me like bullets, and I couldn\u2019t stifle the tears any longer. \u201cIt took me 13 years to get this diagnosis. The medication is helping me. Why are you making me start from the beginning again?\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cWe need to make sure you have the right diagnosis,\u201d he responded as if my personal account held no value. And with those words, he confirmed my fear definitively: I was starting at ground zero. I was a female patient. I was not to be trusted.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m done telling my story until the doctor comes in.\u201d<\/p>\n
I\u2019d been broken by the trauma, but I\u2019d also gained a voice. That day, I met a neurologist as understanding, intelligent, and open-minded as the one who diagnosed me. But I didn\u2019t reach her without resistance.<\/p>\n
\u201cEven now, eight years after my diagnosis \u2014 and 21 years after my initial symptoms \u2014 I continue to be haunted by the trauma many women face in the health care setting.\u201d<\/p>\n
Even now, eight years after my diagnosis \u2014 and 21 years after my initial symptoms \u2014 I continue to be haunted by the trauma many women face in the health care setting. Doctors often still consider my words an exaggeration of the truth despite the credibility I should have earned with my diagnosis. It\u2019s why I continued seeing a less-than-ideal family doctor for years instead of making the leap to find a new one as I did last spring. This trauma is the reason anxiety paralyzes me when I sit on the exam table waiting to be seen.<\/p>\n
I apologize to doctors if I reach out on the patient portal. During appointments, I ask only the most dire questions and if I feel I\u2019ve used up my allotted time, the remainder fall to the back burner. I\u2019ve learned to anticipate doctors\u2019 reactions.<\/p>\n
In the moments before meeting a new doctor, scenes from previous appointments replay in my mind, eliciting the same emotional response they did initially. And when a new symptom arises, I wait \u2014 because mentioning an ailment that might disappear in days or weeks diminishes my future credibility. <\/p>\n
I\u2019m always walking on eggshells.<\/p>\n
Somewhere between 24 million and 50 million Americans have an autoimmune disease <\/a>\u2014 as many as 4 out of 5 of them are women. Autoimmune diseases tend to present with non-specific, overlapping symptoms<\/a> making them more challenging to diagnose. Women are not only more likely to be struck with one of these disabling diseases, but we are living through a medical gaslighting emergency<\/a> that is making an already challenging diagnosis that much further out of reach. <\/p>\n As women, we deserve to be trusted leaders of our medical care. Once we find ourselves buried beneath the rubble of neglect, it can take a lifetime to climb out. Slowly, I\u2019m starting to see the light again.<\/p>\n Lindsay Karp is a freelance writer and essayist with publications in The Washington Post, Time, The Cut, Oprah Daily, Good Housekeeping and other outlets. She is working on a memoir of her diagnostic journey. You can follow her on X @KarpLindsay<\/a>.<\/p>\n Do you have a compelling personal story you\u2019d like to see published on HuffPost? Find out what we\u2019re looking for here<\/a> and send us a pitch at pitch@huffpost.com.<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"Last spring, as I sat in the waiting room at a medical facility before meeting a new family…\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":400430,"comment_status":"","ping_status":"","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[43],"tags":[818,102,2960,10596,56,54,55],"class_list":["post-400429","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","category-healthcare","tag-doctors","tag-health","tag-healthcare","tag-multiple-sclerosis","tag-uk","tag-united-kingdom","tag-unitedkingdom"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/uk\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/400429","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/uk\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/uk\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/uk\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/uk\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=400429"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/uk\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/400429\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/uk\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/400430"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/uk\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=400429"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/uk\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=400429"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/uk\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=400429"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}