When KC was twenty-four years old, she’d already been experiencing debilitating period cramps every month for ten years. She visited a gynecologist, trying to figure out how to manage these episodes without the estrogen-based birth control that doubled her risk of stroke due to another underlying medical condition. The appointment was about five minutes long; the doctor insisted KC’s pursuit of uncovering the root cause of her pain was “a waste of time”.
KC left that appointment feeling deflated, like her options were to either risk a stroke or live with intense pain every month until menopause. She remembers counting how many years that might be. She had a similar feeling when she was fourteen and her pediatrician said her period cramps would “definitely go away by age thirty”.
As a registered dietitian and healthcare professional in the United States, KC’s view of the world of medicine is dynamic and empathetic. She gives a lot of grace to healthcare workers, understanding that they are just people, fallible and limited like everyone else.
“We know so little about hormones through the life cycle, about perimenopause and menopause, and this impacts half the population,” she says.
KC understands that healthcare professionals, in the States especially, are working within a system that often focuses more on profits than people.
“It’s very hard to work in a field caring for people when you don’t have the resources or support to do so,” she adds.
It took more than fifteen years for KC to be diagnosed with endometriosis. She says one of the more difficult aspects of her journey has been reflecting on how pain impacted her ability to live a full life. She thinks back on missed birthdays, holidays, and times she could have spent with loved ones when instead she was crying on the floor in pain.
KC’s experience is one of many that reflect gender bias in medical treatment settings.
Women are less likely to receive standard cardiac testing, endometriosis often takes four to eleven years to diagnose, and in Canada, only 7% of health research focuses on women. 75% of adverse drug reactions are experienced by women, largely because of a historical overfocus on men in drug trials.
A Toronto-based woman named Sadie experienced something similar with a former doctor when seeking treatment for debilitating period pain, which sometimes caused her to throw up, faint, or not be able to move. She was met with what she describes as a “dismissive condescension”.
“There was no further problem-solving,” she says. “No conversation about there being a root cause, no curiosity, no follow-up questions about my lifestyle.”
Sadie was told to increase her pain med dosage and was sent on her way. She believes misogyny played a role. There was an “acceptance of female pain” in the room with them, and she left feeling demoralized, disappointed, and gaslit into wondering if she had overembellished.
These problems are often intersectional, and while KC and Sadie don’t believe other aspects of their identities influenced their experiences, they acknowledge how much harder this can be for some.
“As a cisgender, white, middle class woman, I think my experience has been a cake walk compared to others. And that’s hard to believe given how excruciating it’s been.”
According to a survey by the Black Women’s Institute of Health, nearly half of Black women, girls, and gender diverse people in Canada delay health care over fears of racism, while 66.7% felt their health concerns were dismissed or not taken seriously by a healthcare provider.
When asked what she’d say to medical professionals and/or med students on this topic if given the chance, KC says she’d tell them their hard work is meaningful and important. They see patients every day who are so sick they might die without care, and there is an undeniable gravity to that.
“When you get that patient with monthly period pain,” she says, “please don’t underestimate how important it is. To us, it can feel like our world is ending. It’s okay not to have the answers, but make people feel seen and heard. Empower them to keep going.”
Sadie says she’d remind them how necessary it is that they learn to self-reflect and recognize when they’re triggered or projecting.
“It’s such a vulnerable context to be seeking help for your health and well-being,” she adds. “Be mindful of what you’re bringing into that space.”
It’s important to reiterate KC’s point about the humanity of doctors, nurses and other healthcare professionals. Their jobs are taxing, crucial and difficult. In various ways they work with what they are given, under systems that are imperfect at best. This provides important context, but it does not excuse an overall tendency to dismiss women’s pain.
Initiatives like the IWK Women’s Health Survey, a regional research project aiming to better understand women’s health in the Maritime provinces, is a strong example of people doing the work to address women’s health as a historically under-researched and underfunded aspect of the healthcare system.
Medicine has evolved over time by learning from mistakes. Listening to women’s experiences, and acting on what they reveal, is not simply a challenge against a system that often fails us, it’s an opportunity for growth.