On Ethics In Dealing With The Vulnerable

My obgyn made me feel uncomfortable last visit, again. I don’t like it when he touches me outside of routine exams, and there was no routine exam both times. He just seems to like touching me.

He probably didn’t mean to get personal. I mean, how personal can his reception as a medical doctor be after having operated on my pussy? Especially as an obgyn? Nah, seen one pussy, you’ve seen them all. Human life and women’s feelings are incalculably minuscule in the pecking order, and, hence, nearly entirely disposable. Like tampons are. Our existence is just like tampons to an obgyn. It’s all part of the functional job description.

What was irrational was why I felt depressed and foggy for the days after that strange encounter. Like PMS the day before my period would come, although I am going through perimenopause. I was suicidal. But if you were to ask me why, what was going through my head, all I could say was my obgyn touching me unnecessarily and entering my personal space. I mean, what’s the big deal? Besides, if I didn’t want to be touched, I shouldn’t have gotten myself into that situation. I should have said stop, even if it is only my obgyn and the touching only lasted less than 2 seconds each time by the time I either pulled away or stood up. Even if it’s hard to think on my feet, and perimenopause is known to cause confusion and memory loss, according to the very same obgyn. His jeering after I stood up from his near embrace was, “just like a normal person!” So, he did have on his mind that I am mentally ill. Or abnormal. If he knew I am both confused and mentally ill, why touch me like that? His touching was, to say the least, “concerning”, but nothing will ever be done about it. He’s apparently not the only coward in the medical profession who takes the “do no harm” oath sacrilegiously.

I’ve run into at least one other doctor who makes his livelihood from “examining” for sleep disorders. He made me change into a gown for routine heartbeat listening, then winked at me for the rest of the appointment where he asked questions and discussed sleep habits. I don’t know if he had a tic or if he was flirting, but the next appointment I took my mother in with me and I tried to look as glum as in could. He looked at me and said, “Smile!” He also gave me the wrong advice. He said my apnea was so mild that all I had to do was lose five pounds. Did he really mean to say so I’d be more fuckable? Anyway when he saw I wasn’t going to smile, he started to wink at my mum. Good god. Did he think he could arouse my jealousy?

Holy buzzword, Batman! Does the word “benign” mean anything to doctors these days beyond a cancer diagnosis? Oops, I’m too sassy. That’s a sin. After all, like my online buddy says, what man wants a woman he can’t dominate? After all, says my pastoral counsellor, for a woman to take martial arts or to respond with authority on a matter is the sin of trying to be a strong woman. It’s the Jezebel spirit. What about self-defence? What about it? You just have to have faith! Yeah, I think that’s what my next would-be assailant is counting on, too.

Anyway, going back to the point, the lowly sleep disorder clinician I went to see after this “doctor” did take his job seriously, and said I have severe obstructive sleep apnea. My sleep has been good since getting the right machine. I don’t think waking up 26 times an hour, according to the university hospital sleep study, could, in any professional opinion, qualify as anything less than severe.

Screw those kinky doctors. No wait, I have to find my Phillips first. ~V

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