My fantasy doctor

Forgive me, but I need to rant. With that said, you have been forewarned…
Do you know what this world really needs? We need more female sports medicine doctors. Do you know why I say this? I say this because I am so sick of older male doctors, who are active in exactly zero sports looking at me with their semi-amused faces and asking me questions like, “Well now, why are you doing all of these sports?” Like I should be home cleaning the floor, getting dinner ready for my family or balancing the family budget instead, like being a 30 something female athlete is totally ludicrous, like my interest in sports and doing events is laughable, cute but so unnecessary, like I should be home painting my nails or out shopping for a cute outfit, not training 5 or 6 days a week for an event I won’t place in, for events that I am just thrilled to finish, not to mention an award of any sort.

The silver lining around these experiences is their reactions and flippant comments fuel my feminist fire like you would not believe. For every man that thinks what I am doing is “so cute”. I vow to do more than that dude ever imagined I could do. Uh, how do you plan to run, or bike or swim or anything with that massive chip on my shoulder you say? What am I out to prove? I don’t know. Honestly, I just want to be taken seriously when I go to the doctor for issues that interfere with my activities.

I actually fantasize about finding a doctor that actually listens to what I have to say. I imagine them paying attention and then saying, “Ok, so I hear how important being active is to you. It sounds like your problem could have a few sources. Let’s see if we can break it can’t make a plan of action and see if some modifications could make a difference. It could take a little trial and error, but we’ll do our best to get you back out there as soon as we can.” I am not asking anyone to promise me that they will be able to fix it. But I am so sick of these doctors just patting me on the head and sending me away with a flimsy explanation like, “well, you have really loose ankles and there is nothing we can do about that.” Loose ankles? Well, that is a new one at least.

The very first time I went to an orthopedist I met my fantasy doctor. She happened to be a women, in her late 30’s and SURPRISE she was also a runner. She listened and helped me so much. We talked about different shoes, distances ran, my orthotics, and various strength exercises. She assured me we’d get it all straightened out. We did. The other person who was fantastic was my physical therapist I saw after I cracked my tail bone. His wife was in her 40’s and competed in triathlons. Unlike me, this woman placed in the top 3 of her age division time and time again. He understood the female athlete, he was married to one. In addition to being wonderfully respectful of women athletes, he also provided on-site daycare for his patients receiving physical therapy! How is that for a forward thinking man! Fortunately, I haven't needed physical therapy since then. And that fabulous female doctor? She moved to Michigan.

In a time where the Beijing Olympic commentators joked back and forth about how they have the best job in the world because they get to watch bikini clad women jump around the beach, I long for more men who understand and revere female athletes, regardless of their level of achievement. Surely, an Olympic champion should not be reduced to the type of bikini she is wearing, or be forced to wear such a bikini for extra ratings.

Listen, all I am saying is, if I were a 30 year old male walking into any of these sports medicine clinics, it would be assumed that my participation in sports is good for my physical and mental health and would not be considered cute or sweet or extravagant. The doctor would seriously address the problem. Can you imagine a male doctor smiling, folding his hands across his rounded belly and saying to his male patient, “ Now, why are you doing all these sports anyway.”
I don’t think so.

Here is what I am the most disappointed about though, you ready? I sat there on the paper covered table, wrapped from the waist down in the little sheet they give you, and just took it all in. The condescending smiles, the limited questions that seemed completely irrelevant, the dismissive comment made when I tried to explain what I had read about female athletes and how their injury patterns differ from those in men as a result of varying muscle strengths, the new study that promoted a different kind of strength training to prevent those injuries.

I wanted to say, "Listen buddy, this is important to me, and I am here so that you can help me, not make me feel like I am an 8 year old kid complaining about a skinned knee. Pay attention or just forget it if you could care less, and we won't waste each others time." But I didn't I sat there and waited for his line of questioning to finish, even though it was clear to me it would not lead either of us anywhere.

Lesson learned my friends. This has happened to me one too many times. Next time I will speak up. I will speak up, or walk out. It sounds harsh, but I've had enough. And if it happens, I'll be sure to blog about the experience and let you know how it goes.