The Lesser-Known Consequences of C-PTSD

Today, I had to go to the doctor’s office. 

I’ve been experiencing severe anxiety when it comes to seeing doctors over the past few years. I have been frustrated and baffled as to where this anxiety originates from, as I need had trouble in exams or seeing clinicians when I was young or in my late teens. Perhaps doctors treat kids with a softer approach that was more comfortable for me or have a larger allowance of fear for children? Maybe with adults, they expect you to be able to have your shit together enough to have your blood pressure and pulse taken, your throat swabbed or your teeth cleaned?

My husband told me he thinks this stems from the close physical proximity and touch that is required in these appointments. At first, I brushed it off, but now I think he might be onto something. I’ve always had this kind of anxiety when it came to going to the dentist, which is quite physically invasive and intimate. Of course, you don’t start seeing a gynecologist as a woman until you’re a teenager, so this type of invasive interaction isn’t even on the table for most of your childhood. The few appointments and experiences I had were with my mother in attendance, which at the time likely had a tranquilizing effect. 

Once I hit 18, I stopped going to the dentist. I found having my teeth cleaned and examined to be so invasive, so intimate, that I would leave appointments drenched in an anxiety-induced sweat. After a bad experience at the OB when I was 20, I also stopped going to gynecologists. When I moved to New York at 22, I kept my primary care doctor in Cleveland, because of how safe and comfortable she and her office staff made me feel. This, however, became its own barrier to care, as I often had to rely on urgent care to access immediate treatment. 

As I’ve gone through my 20’s, I’ve done a lot of therapy. Through this process, I’ve naturally explored a lot of the childhood trauma I’ve experienced. I’m a survivor of childhood sexual abuse and it’s shaped me in more ways than I know. It took me so long to even be able to say that without qualification, to own the truth of my life. It’s not my shame to carry and I refuse to carry it any longer.

I realize that much of my aversion comes from being victimized, as a vulnerable young girl. Intimate touch feels scary, overwhelming, and invasive, because of how my body was violated. Unfortunately, this aversion has caused me to delay or completely abandon seeking care in situations where I’ve needed it. Avoiding this feeling of panic has driven me to deal with my pain and afflictions privately, which has caused much pain in and of itself.

This manifested recently, when I had a cyst show up. I delayed and avoided seeing a doctor, which my husband wouldn’t allow. He not only made an appointment for me, but made sure to clear his busy work schedule so that he could go with me. When the nurse called my name, we both stood up to go back to the exam room. She hesitated, initially telling us that I would need to go into the hallway with her first and he could then proceed to join me in the exam room.

I almost had a panic attack right then and there. My husband insisted that he go with me and they obliged, when it was clear I would otherwise leave the appointment altogether.

There was another couple in the waiting room, the wife visibly pregnant. When she was called, her husband hung back and played on his phone in the waiting area, which both  irritated and baffled me. I wanted to be able to take ownership of my body and navigate healthcare appointments on my own, but also knew that I wouldn’t or would do so in a disassociate state. Having my husband there empowers me to show up and take care of myself, but I can feel the sting of judgement that most nurses and doctor’s give me, when I refuse to go in alone.

Trauma-informed care needs to be more accessible, available and understood. Just because I am not a child doesn’t mean I shouldn’t be able to have support in the form of my husband coming into appointments with me. It’s not even considered when a child goes to see a doctor, so why should it be handled any differently if it’s an adult seeking care? There are many reasons someone might want their spouse to join them for a medical appointment and being able to rely on someone I trust and love in such a way shouldn’t be stigmatized or cause healthcare providers to judge me as being in some way inadequate. Trauma-informed care doesn’t just look like understanding how trauma shows up systematically in the body or telling survivors that what happened to them wasn’t there fault, but also includes the long-term effects that abuse and trauma have on the body, mind, and spirit, which impacts how we show up decades after the events themselves are over.

I will continue to allow myself to have the support I need and deserve. I am resolved in not allowing myself to feel shame or guilt for needing help or having experienced sexual abuse. If healthcare providers have something to say about it, that is there burden to carry.