This article was first published in 2023 and has been updated to reflect recent events
Women’s pain and the way it is treated – downplayed, dismissed as a feverish disturbance or disbelief – is a recurring topic. But recently, a vehicle was doused with gasoline and set on fire.
This week the results of a small study from Manchester Metropolitan University were published. These revealed that women struggling with endometriosis (a chronic disease in which cells like those lining the uterus are found elsewhere in the body) claims to be “medically enlightened.” Their pain, they say, is ignored, with many denied access to specialist gynecological support and experiencing a lack of appropriate care in their area.
“The experiences of the women we spoke to are sad, shocking and reveal issues of systemic sexism that still exist within the healthcare system,” said Dr Jasmine Hearn, senior lecturer in psychology at the institution.
“What participants told us reinforces that social norms surrounding the gendered experience of pain and the acceptability of discussing gynecological health remain barriers to seeking help and support. The idea that “women’s issues” should be dealt with calmly, stoically and alone is completely unacceptable.
This example fits into a larger picture where women are told to grit their teeth and negotiate. Indeed, the peak of this conversation is not limited to our island: Recoveries podcast tells the stories of women who underwent the egg retrieval process required for IVF at the Yale Fertility Center in the United States; women who unknowingly had saline injected into their veins rather than fentanyl, an opioid. (A nurse, nursing an addiction, siphoned off the drug and replaced it with salt water.)
In the series, several women describe being hysterical as they screamed in agony as needles pierced their ovaries while they felt each stroke.
It’s not news that there is a knowledge gap when it comes to women’s health. Until the 90s, much biomedical research has been conducted exclusively on male bodies (usually white). This was due to several reasons, including concerns about hormonal variations – the menstrual cycle; perimenopause – complicating results.
And many people were dismayed to learn that the first study to use real bloodUnlike saline solutions, analysis of the absorption capacity of menstrual products was only carried out this year.
There is a library of existing thoughts on why we are here. Things like how pain is feminized and normalized; how blood and gore are presented as an essential element of the female experience, something to be endured and not evaded; how our bodies are designed as a canvas for male sexual desire and tools to support the next generation, but not as conduits for our own pleasure and fulfillment.
What endlessly fascinates me, however, is how this gooey mess means that women are more likely to experiment with alternative health care.
This truth has been demonstrated in multiple analyses. An example: a large study found that women were twice as likely to have seen a complementary and alternative medicine provider, such as homeopathy, acupuncture or hands-on healing, in the past 12 months.
Forced to the sidelines
It’s a phenomenon that seems personal. A consultant gynecologist recently told me that it was extremely likely that I had endometriosis.
This follows almost 20 years of seeking help from various GPs to relieve my knotty period pains, the kind that leave me unable to do anything other than lie in bed, try to passing the breath through my diaphragm and the Nurofen through my neck, and having my eyes sideways. by medical professionals when I suggested that I might have this condition.
The treatments I was regularly offered were hormonal birth control (works for some, various forms don’t work for me) or high-strength pain relief, which makes me drowsy until I fall asleep.
This means I’ve gathered a bag of tricks for managing. Some have scientific evidence to support them, like magnesium for cramps. (This mineral is thought to be essential for proper muscle function, thereby reducing pain when the muscles of the uterine wall contract. I have found it helps.) Some people don’t. Reiki – a form of energy healing – is one example. (I haven’t found it eases the pain in the long term, but it has given me endless happiness, something I’m happy to pay for.)
This, I think, is not problematic in itself. Overall, my take on therapies where hard evidence is pending or that distort the “woo” is that as long as you’re not being exploited financially or lying to yourself – that is say. says that something is undoubtedly the solution to your suffering – so keep going.
I’ve had electric, uplifting, and expansive experiences with many things in these categories. This includes ecstatic dancing (try it, it’s awesome) and psychedelic therapy (although there are many things to consider before committing to the burgeoning industry, see my previous report).
It’s when women feel it’s theirs only way to feel understood and not have their pain dismissed that I have concerns.
Because while I’ve met tons of people working in the alternative health field who are sincere and genuinely want to help people, there are also charlatans who promise the world large sums of money in return. money. (Goop’s Jade Vaginal Eggs, faces trial in 2018come to mind).
Health for a few
Such services – not all, but many – are expensive. Acupuncture, to take one example, often costs around £60 for an hour, making weekly sessions out of the realm of financial possibility for most of the UK. Especially in the current climate.
As is the case with most things, this means that people with more money can roll the dice and try them (a Survey in English found not only that women were more likely to access complementary and alternative medicine, but that this was particularly pronounced for those in higher socioeconomic brackets and those living in the south of the country.)
Creating a two-tiered system when it comes to taking charge of your health, especially for women, is a topic I’ve talked about recently. In the October issue of Women’s health (on newsstands now) I’ve spoken to several women using various cannabis medications for endometriosis, migraine, and chronic pain manifesting in multiple ways.
For many, it softened the sharp edges of their suffering. But, instead of the randomized controlled trials needed for UK regulators to license cannabis for these conditions (among other hurdles, the whole thing is horribly complicated), they pay for it. Often at a high price.
This medication is something I’m currently exploring for my own period pain. I am fortunate to be able to afford to fill in the gaps where traditional medicine has failed to find a suitable solution. I can explore it as an option and abandon it if I don’t see results, or if I fear it will affect me negatively, all under the supervision of a specialist who, again, I will pay to see. Many others do not have this option available to them. This is an intense injustice.
In my opinion, people should be able to choose the systems and modalities that provide them relief – again with the caveat that they won’t be physically harmed, taken for a ride by scammers, or led to the “you can cure your (insert serious). physical illness) with the power of your imagination. (It is this kind of thinking that can lead some to consider abandoning evidence-based medical treatment for life-threatening illnesses).
But it shouldn’t be up to them to seek out expensive, poorly proven treatments just because the health care system they pay into offers inadequate options.
If we believe that access to health care should be free at the point of service (and, according to 2017 data90% of the public support the founding principles of the NHS), so easy-to-access, science-based healthcare should be available to everyone who wants it, regardless of how much they can afford.
Even if the current situation continues, I fear that such confusion, in which women grab something – anything – that might work, and often pay handsomely for it, will continue.
