Are doctors finally starting to take women's pain seriously?
Theres a perception women are at the mercy of their hormones and that we are supposed to suffer by virtue of our sex, says Cleghorn, 41, who lives on on the fringes of Ashdown Forest with her software developer husband Matt, 42, and sons Oscar, aged 13, and Hallam, 10. In previous centuries women who complained of pain were branded hysterics and had their ovaries removed if they got a bit uppity. Its shameful that here in 2021 we are still more likely to be fobbed off with anti-depressants than offered investigative tests.  Cleghorn, an academic, had felt intermittently ill since her 20s but GPs were dismissive. When she became pregnant with her younger son, a problem arose. Thirty weeks into the pregnancy the babys heart rate was slowing, sparking alarm. Doctors found Cleghorns body was producing an antibody that was effectively attacking her unborn childs heart. She was given steroids and closely monitored until the birth, by which time Hallam's heart had recovered and he was born healthy. Of course I was relieved that everything was being done for my baby, says Cleghorn. But it struck me that throughout, my health was secondary. It took a near-catastrophe for me to be treated and then only because I was a vessel for another human being.  After the birth, she felt increasingly wretched, with searing joint pain, a racing heart and flu-like symptoms. Eventually she saw her GP who immediately sent her to A&E. My baby was at home with my husband. He was only nine weeks old so of course I couldnt focus on anything other than him, she recalls. My breasts were engorged and I was literally soaked and dripping milk, begging every doctor and nurse I saw to get me a breast pump.  After one night, a clearly exasperated male doctor told her to go home. He witheringly wrote in her notes her anxiety about feeding her baby outweighs her anxiety about her own health. Cleghorn felt she was discharged as punishment for being  entirely understandably - overwrought. Theres something about the way women express their pain to doctors that undermines the gravity of their complaint, she says. A man will point and bluntly say this hurts, here. A woman will explain how her life is affected and that elaboration will be construed as all-in-her-mind anxiety so she will be treated for that and not the root cause.  By now, male readers may wonder if Cleghorn is exaggerating. Female readers (myself included) will be nodding their heads, maybe even visibly wincing, with recognition. In 2018 tennis champion Serena Williams revealed that severe complications set in the day after the C-section birth of her daughter, Alexis Olympia. Short of breath and acutely conscious of her history of blood clots, she alerted a nurse  who patronisingly concluded the pain medication must have confused her. When Williams insisted on seeing a doctor, she was given an entirely pointless ultrasound scan of her legs. I told you, I need a CT scan and a heparin drip, she told the team. The ultrasound revealed nothing, so they sent her for the CT. Her instinct was absolutely right; several small blood clots had settled in her lungs. Minutes later she was on a drip and was subsequently diagnosed with the rare autoimmune disease Sjogrens syndrome. If a strong, articulate woman like Serena can be overruled and sidelined in her own treatment, what chance do the rest of us have? demands Cleghorn rhetorically. She continued battling on with appalling pain and exhaustion before a new GP realised she was very unwell. After 10 days on a cardiac ward she finally had clarity  but only by dint of sheer good luck. A visiting rheumatologist looked at my blood results  and went right through my past notes, which nobody else had bothered to do, and diagnosed lupus, she says. Im not a conspiracy theorist but the overwhelming majority of lupus sufferers are female and very little research has gone into it. Its the same old story; because theres no funding and no steady stream of information theres a lack of awareness among GPs.  Cleghorns condition is managed by daily drugs but, although it has been several years since her last major flare-up, she still endures pain and tiredness. But she is hopeful that books like hers will lift the lid on the way the medical establishment remains skewed against women. We need to overturn the assumption that a womans pain is rooted in her emotions, she says. At the moment too much onus is on individual women to take charge and assert themselves. Change needs to come from the very top down.  Unwell Women by Elinor Cleghorn (RRP 16.99). Buy now for 14.99 at books.telegraph.co.uk or call 0844 871 1514