Three years ago, I had a major life event. I was diagnosed with a progressive chronic illness, I was brushed off by various doctors every time I struggled and discussed my symptoms and was repeatedly told it was my anxiety.
I started to panic even more, because it seemed everything I was complaining about was due to that dreaded diagnosis, “anxiety,” I was given shortly after giving birth. “It will pass,” I told myself, but reality threw me a curve ball — one I couldn’t swing back.
I ended in the ER, and thankfully a female doctor didn’t believe this was all due to anxiety, and asked for further tests. The reason I pointed out the gender of the doctor is simply because every other doctor I saw was coincidentally a male doctor, and they
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