Calling time on dismissive doctors

So, now we have to fight for respect as well!!

A few days ago, a clip from The Golden Girls popped up on my Facebook feed. I’d never been a fan, but this particular scene caught my attention — and made me angry. Very angry.

In the scene, Dorothy describes her battle with chronic illness, only to be dismissed and ridiculed by the very people who are supposed to help her. It’s meant to be comedy, but anyone living with Fibromyalgia or another chronic condition knows the truth: this is reality. Day in, day out, in surgeries and hospitals across the world.

I know, because I’ve lived it.

The Early Days

Back in the late 80s and 90s, before “Fibromyalgia” was even widely recognised, doctors told me my symptoms were “all in my head.” I was advised to exercise more, lose weight, take antidepressants, get more sleep. Eleven years of tests, shrugs, dismissals, and pills later, I finally had a name for what I’d been experiencing. But even with a diagnosis, the lack of respect never really changed.

The Consultant Who Knew Better

Fast forward to 2016, after my car accident. I was referred to a spinal consultant — a “Mr” rather than “Dr,” supposedly the mark of expertise. He didn’t know my history, but within minutes he confidently dismissed my Fibromyalgia.

According to him, Fibromyalgia didn’t exist. It was just what people like me (and apparently him) felt on a Monday morning when they didn’t want to go to work. He told me to settle my injury claim and “get back to it.”

Did he even address my whiplash injuries? Not once.

Thankfully, a pain consultant later did — with compassion and professionalism. But the damage was done. A letter arrived a few days later, repeating his verdict: You don’t have Fibromyalgia. Get back to work.

I complained. The hospital director and matron took it seriously, but of course, no apology came. And I didn’t want one anyway — because it would never have been sincere.

It struck me then: nothing had changed in 30 years.

The Hidden Damage

This isn’t just about bruised pride. Encounters like these leave scars. They strip away hope, fuel self-doubt, and pile emotional stress on bodies already overloaded with pain and fatigue.

I’ll never forget the day, before I was diagnosed, when my GP shoved antidepressants and sleeping tablets at me with the same tired advice: “Get more exercise.”

After eleven years of that same line, I went home, defeated. Desperate. And I swallowed a handful of the pills.

If my husband hadn’t been there, I don’t know what would have happened. His quick action saved me. The next day, when I returned to the doctor hoping for help, I was shouted at — not for the overdose, but for flushing away the rest of the tablets. “Do you know how expensive those are?” he yelled.

That was the last day I ever asked a doctor for help with my Fibromyalgia.

Enough Is Enough

And yet, here I am in 2025, still hearing the same stories on Instagram, Facebook, and in my inbox every single day. People dismissed, belittled, medicated, and left without answers. Thirty plus years on, and too many of us are still fighting not only our conditions — but for basic respect.

Having a chronic illness is already a full-time battle. Why are we also forced to battle the very professionals who are supposed to be on our side?

We don’t walk into a doctor’s office looking for pity. We go in seeking understanding, partnership, solutions. We deserve to be treated as whole people, not as a set of symptoms to be dulled with painkillers and antidepressants.