👟👠 Sexual harassment and unkind doctors (#15)

Hi !  Welcome back. This week I am thinking (and writing) about sexual harassment, unkind doctors, and the importance of having a choice. The newsletter is a bit longer today (consider it make up for last week’s!) and a little bit more personal. Normal programming resumes next week :-). If you haven’t subscribed yet, you can join here or by clicking the button below. - Eve D.❣️

WEEK IN REVIEW

🔥 FYI: You can now “like” this newsletter from your email box! There’s a heart under my photo. It’s a new feature, so please try it out 😃. You should also be able to comment (and see each other’s comments) but not sure if that is activated yet.

To say this week has been a complete write-off is me being under dramatic. I spent Sunday fighting the illness that has been grabbing everybody by the throat, and although I prevailed for the most part, I was left with a relentless feeling of lethargy and brain fog for the rest of the week. Add to that the coldest days of the year (so far), the after-effects of our dog dying and a mild case of burn out from trying to do too much in weeks prior…and, this week has been bleh.

The one highlight this week was being invited to join friends on a walking safari through the Kruger National Park next month, which I am extremely excited to do. I had two questions: how far (I’m ridiculously unfit) and how dangerous. My friend said he’s done it a few times, and the worst incident was the rangers having to fire a warning shot to an elephant who then turned around and walked away. And last year they walked through a herd of elephants (no gunshots, no incidents). So take from that what you will, but I decided I’m going. I’ll keep you posted.

Reminds me, btw, of how the last time I was in a game reserve, we ended up a) having to change a flat tire in the middle of the bush AND b)being stuck in the middle of the reserve because we put diesel into a petrol rental car. I wrote about both those incidents here 🤣 ).

Can you believe it’s mid-July, and like my friend Laura says…once we hit July we might as well start planning for 🎄 Christmas 🎄 because it’s just around the corner. She’s not wrong. The second half of the year is going to fly by. Make sure to stop and smell the roses.

SEXUAL HARASSMENT

How do you think you’d react?

This probably won’t come as a surprise to many of you, but how women imagine they’d react to sexual harassment is wildly different from how they actually react when harassed.

In a study, when women were asked how they’d react to sexually intrusive questions in an interview, such as “Do you have a boyfriend?” women said they’d feel angry, they’d confront of the interviewer and would refuse to answer the question. Only 2% of women reported they’d feel fear.

But in a study where those type of questions were actually asked during a fake interview, not one woman confronted the interviewer, not one refused to answer the questions, and not one reported the interviewer to his supervisor. And 40% of the women reported feeling fear.

Sadly, this is does not come as a surprise. do you think you’d be more assertive? I would have thought so, but turns out…not so much. I'm going to tell you a (long!) personal story... buckle up.

Something that I haven't talked about in the newsletter (but you can read a lot about on my blog) is that I have a very rare lymphoma called Waldenstrom (WM). It's so rare that I only know of 6 other people in South Africa who have it. To add to this, I have various side complications that make my type of WM even rarer than normal. WM is one of those rare cancers that does not have a cure, but it does have limited treatment that should keep it under control until that stops working. So, when I was first diagnosed (in 2018) I did a round of chemo with the hope that it would help, but it didn't seem to budge the cancer markers (although for the most part I was feeling fine). At that point, my wonderful doctor and I were kind of out of options, and she suggested I see a specific doctor for a second opinion. Let's call this male doctor, Dr X.

Let me set the scene for this. It is 2020, with early, early Covid. No one has a clue what is going on, and we were all fraught and stressed. Add to that that a lymphoma is essentially a cancer of the blood marrow, and thus a cancer of the immunity system. Throw in some weird, unknown and easily-spread virus floating through the air, and you can see the problem. On top of that, my partner of 10yrs had just left the relationship and the country, so I was battling this for the first time all alone and was still reeling. On the plus side, cancer-wise I was feeling fine. I felt that I had this all under control, and only agreed to the second opinion suggestion to make my doctor happy.

So, I went to see Dr X, who worked at a hospital about 25 minutes from my house. It was the first major appointment I was attending on my own. I quickly realised that Dr X was in partnership with another doctor I had seen about a year prior, when I was first diagnosed, and that they shared patient notes. That initial appointment a year ago was wonderful and very helpful, and that doctor took copious notes, which Dr X now had access to. Thus, Dr X had an extensive file on me already, but only from how things were a year ago.

I sit down, ready to explain in detail my very particular progression of the disease. Instead, Dr X makes small talk, looks at the one-year old notes, looks at my recent blood tests, looks at the notes again, and instead of asking me a question about my health asks me...."why did Craig not come with you today?". I was speechless. I didn't expect him to know about Craig (he must have been mentioned in the notes, since he was with me for that first consult), and I certainly wasn't expecting to have to explain to a stranger my relationship status. But I did.

Dr X then asked me to lie on the examination table, and while doing a physical exam (I don't have to tell you how vulnerable a woman feels then) he asked me, once again nothing about my health but whether ..."I had given any thought to dating again?". I was flabbergasted, again. I laughed it off and said I am def not ready for that.

When the exam was over, and still without him asking anything about my recent experience with WM, he told me matter of factly that I am at extreme risk of acute heart failure, I can collapse at any point in the near future, and I needed to immediately subject myself to a further round of the specific chemo his rooms administer. Without giving me a chance to ask any questions, he whipped out the health insurance forms, filled them in, and told me to be in his rooms at 8 am on Monday.

I was in shock. Literally, you could have blown me over with a feather. I walked into the rooms feeling healthy, and I had just been told I am literally near death, and have just had an involuntary change of primary oncologist. I managed to mumble that if I was doing another round of chemo I would do it with my current doctor, even if only because her rooms and hospital were literally 2 blocks from my house. Dr X then had the audacity to look at my home address, look me straight in the eye and tell me that his hospital was only 25 minutes away and my family can drive me. When I said we should probably wait till Covid was over he said that would be another year, and way too long to wait. He gave me the forms to submit to my health insurance, and said he expected to see me in a couple of days.

I walked out of the building, and for the first time since my diagnosis, I broke down. I didn't know what was real, what I was imagining. I had no more markers for what was appropriate behaviour from a doctor, what I was an over-reaction on my part. I didn't know whether Covid and the stress in the air was clouding my judgment, making me too sensitive or not sensitive enough. I was broken.

The point of this story is: if you had told me I would experience something like this, I would have told you that I would not stand for it for one bit. Anyone who knows me would agree with that. I would imagine myself putting the doctor in his place, there and then. And yet, there I was. Helpless and hopeless. The most I did was go back to my original doctor and told her that the doctor was an ass, that he tried to steal me as a patient (the treatment is super expensive) and that she must never refer anyone to him again. She was shocked and livid, and I hope she took it further.

I shared this story with everyone I knew over the next couple of days. Everyone was shocked and horrified for me. But many also knew this doctor (it's a small town). Happily married, kids. Well respected. Very good at what he does. I didn't trust myself then, and I still don't trust my experience now. Was I over reacting? Am I still? Did he want to set me up with his brother? Was he eager to get new patients because Covid had affected his practice? Did he really think my health was in danger? Who knows.

So when I read about that study I mentioned in the beginning, no, it didn't surprise me. I don't know what the fix is, but as women we need to stand up more for ourselves, and we must certainly teach our daughters to do the same. Not sure how though. It would help if some of these men just started to behave like decent human beings.

(PS. I obviously didn't do the chemo or any other treatment. I did not collapse and I have never felt healthier. So it was all unnecessary bullshit. You can read about some of my journey here).

POWER OF AGENCY

In doing research for my book, I came across a neat little hack to help people achieve goals: give them some agency over how that goal should be achieved. I think this is particularly useful for kids. For example, instead of telling your child that you’d like him to get an A for maths next term, and him “agreeing”, rather ask your child what kind of study schedule he is willing to commit to in order to make the “A” a real possibility. By having direct input into the schedule, the child is more likely to follow it.

I saw this at work first-hand with Zac. He does (no contact) boxing training with a really renowned coach, who pushes Zac to his limit. I was watching their workout this Monday, and I thought Zac would collapse mid-exercise. Zac doesn’t like this level of discomfort, so I expected him to either quit the exercise and storm off, or rant when in the car. To my surprise, he did neither and when I asked him about the session he said it was “brutal but fun”. This does not sound much like Zac, trust me. So I prodded further.
“He really pushed you on the cardio, didn’t he?”
“Yep. But I asked him to. He gave me a choice of working legs and technique, or cardio, and I chose cardio”.
Seb, the coach, is smart! He gave Zac an option of two equally tough sessions, but by giving him agency over which one he got to do, he ensured that Zac was a 100% willing participant. Clever!

FREE THERAPY

ISSUES

I thought I had no issues, but it turns out I have two (and a dog) 😂 .

HOW TO FEED A TOWN

Next time you are cussing that your family has to eat dinner every night, and that you are the one who has to cook it, be grateful that you have no need to keep this recipe on file:

TWO LEGGED REMOTE CONTROLS

I have distinct memories of having to do this for my dad. He would call me to change the volume or the channel, and those knobs were so finicky that if you turned too fast you skipped over the channel you wanted and had to start all over again. 😀 

To be fair, I call my kids all the time to help me with the Apple TV remote, because that thing was designed by drunk skunks with no sense of humour and a death wish.

NATIONAL PRIDE

No matter where you are in the world, or what nationality, do yourself a favour and watch this rendition of the South African national anthem. It will tell you everything you need to know what South Africa(ns) are really like, and who we are at heart. “Hulle weet nie wat ons weet nie” (“they don’t know what we know”)

FAMILY TIME

I like this, and I’d totally do it!

ENTERTAINMENT

Apart from watching the soccer (it’s done this weekend, thank goodness!) I also watched Oppenheimer and re-watched Lost in Translation.

Oppenheimer is a great feat of a movie, but I feel as if it tied three stories into one, and each should have been handled separately. Robert Downing Jr was superb, as was the rest of the cast, really. (And yes, those two dropped bombs were completely unjustified, and no, we are not horrified enough by the atrocity of it all.)

….

“Let’s never come here again”, she said “because it would never be as much fun”. Love that quote.

Lost in Translation is a strange little movie. I found it slow and mildly annoying at times, but then, somehow, miraculously, everything is tied together in the last scene of the movie, and I walked away thinking I’ve just watched a masterpiece. And it is a masterpiece. (Did you know? Scarlett Johansson was 17 when she shot the movie, Bill Murray was 52.) "

Thanks for reading!

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That’s it for this week. (Want more? You can find past editions here). I hope you have a great weekend and upcoming week. Please keep sharing /forwarding to your friends/groups 😄 . You can also email me privately by hitting reply on this email.

PS