I Tried To Be A Good Patient

I tried to be a good patient. I listened to my doctors and treated them like experts, heeding their instructions and following their recommendations.

I took my prescriptions as prescribed and returned for follow-up visits when the doctor wanted. I allowed prodding and poking, bracing myself for painful exams while I was told it was “good for me.” I completed lab work on time, kept 24 urine tests in my fridge, and spit in tubes for saliva testing, believing these tests would offer valuable insight into my health. I went for my yearly exams without never missing one. I ate the foods to lower my LDL and foods to raise my HDL. I followed allergy diets and autoimmune protocols. I intermittently fasted, counted calories, cut fat, increased protein, eliminated grains, ate in 5 small meals. I kept a health journal, tracked my water intake, exercised daily, monitored my weight. I sought out alternative health and filled my free time with acupuncture, reiki, naturopathy, meditation, and yoga.

I did all these things in the hopes of being “healthy.” I tried to be a good patient until the day came when I could no longer try.

What happens when we stop trying to be good?

I was a model patient and yet I felt unwell. Most of the health recommendations did not work for me and my health did not improve. All my good behaviors and advice following did not bring good health. And so I tried harder.

Cloaked in the shame from my religious upbringing, I was the compliant patient. I aimed to be the “good girl.” To be pleasing. To be agreeable. Growing up, I wasn’t allowed to object, learning that I must hide my rebel self from the world. I frequently felt misunderstood and assumed the problem was me.

I wore myself out trying to be the “good” patient, burned out and exhausted by all that I was doing to be healthy. And yet good health seemed elusive.

When I turned 45, something clicked inside me. I was fed up from trying to be “good,” and decided I would like to see what other options are on the menu. I could no longer submit to the medical advice simply out of compliance, and I couldn’t get my mind and heart and body on board. Instead I began to critically examine their recommendations and make my own decisions.

I put off procedures and declined tests and cancelled appointments. I didn’t take my medications as prescribed and refused preventative screenings (hello colonoscopy).

What happens when we stop trying to be good? Can we see what else is on the menu?

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It was always a misguided objective, letting a doctor be the expert of my body and their recommendations to outweigh my own intuition.

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Here’s what being good really did to me…

I felt chronically misunderstood and blamed for my health problems. Each day I lived with a sense of failure, believing that I was the problem when the medical advice didn’t work. I assumed I was doing it wrong or not doing “enough.”

These well-meaning recommendations created a disconnection in my body and my nervous system. It fostered a sense of mistrust with my intuition. I was playing whac-a-mole with my body, carving it into pieces and shuttling it off to different specialists, with the hope of being well.

What happens when we stop trying to be good? Is that when the living can begin?

Now I see that the system was failing me.  We expect patients to fawn with their doctors, to go along with treatment plans and we see the patients who don’t comply as problems. We label them as “noncompliant.”

Fawning shows up in our healthcare system when we don’t feel empowered or equipped or supported to decide whether the medical advice fits for us and if it feels aligned with our intuition, without being threatened or labeled by the system.

I am still figuring out what happens when I stop trying to be good. What I do know is I can bring my rebel out of hiding. I can empower her to push back. I can decide for myself what I have the capacity for and what feels like too much for the present season.

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