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Register for How My Unquestioned Faith in the Medical Profession Went Under the Knife
by Ericka K. Dixon
Recently, I, like thousands of women, faced the prospect of major invasive
surgery, but found out by chance that I had another option. Here is the story of
my journey, which has turned me into an accidental, unofficial advocate for
other women walking the same road.
Diagnosed with a large mass in my ovary and premature menopause, I consulted a
well-respected gynecologist about my options. That doctor, a charming and
capable woman, advised me to have a traditional abdominal hysterectomy and
removal of my cervix. When I asked about laparoscopic surgery, she sternly
cautioned me against it. She told me not enough of them had been performed and
that flat out, laparoscopic surgery is not safe.
I liked this doctor very much. I trusted her. She’s a very experienced doctor
with a good reputation. I was ready to schedule the surgery. Get that thing,
possibly a tumor, out of me as soon as possible! And yes, please, why not a
hysterectomy at the same time, to address my ongoing symptoms of menopause. When
my husband pressed me to pursue a second opinion to explore the laparoscopic
option, I balked. Why should I? My doctor said it’s not safe.
A nagging voice in my head (or was it my husband?) told me to get a second
opinion. I asked my primary physician, Dr. Barbara Hrach, to refer me to another
gynecologist. She sent me to Dr. Duncan Turner, obstetrician/gynecologist, for a
consultation. There, I was given a choice that many women facing surgery are
never informed of. What an eye opener! Option one: Outpatient laparoscopic
surgery, allowing me to walk within hours of the operation and function normally
within a week (with one additional week of feeling tired, but nothing an
afternoon nap won’t solve); minimal pain medication required; and a
significantly reduced risk of infection and scarring due to a few very small
“holes” rather than a large incision in my abdomen.
Or, option two: Traditional hysterectomy, a procedure unchanged for 70 years,
that would have me in the hospital for three nights and then resting at home for
a month, taking intravenous narcotic pain medication while in the hospital and
then orally for several weeks; significantly increased risk of infection along
with a large scar; and removal of my cervix, which is completely unnecessary in
most cases.
I chose laparoscopic surgery. I enjoyed a speedy recovery that required only
Advil for my pain after the first 48 hours, my scars are practically invisible,
and I have had zero complications.
When the laparoscopic surgical option became available for men undergoing
radical prostatectomy six years ago, it quickly became the gold standard. Yet
the equivalent technology for women’s surgery, which has been available and used
successfully for 20 years, is widely ignored. Advanced gynecological
laparoscopic surgery is not taught in medical schools, nor is it on the
licensing exams to become a doctor. It was not taught in residency programs
until recently, and most gynecologists have had no formal training in the
technique. However, hundreds of gynecologists have taken it upon themselves to
become trained and proficient in this technology because, without question, it
is better for their patients.
Why is a man offered the latest and greatest techniques while a woman is not?
Why is a woman not told there is something that will keep her intact, off drugs,
and able to function quickly after surgery? Isn’t this difference in the
standard of care for men and women blatantly sexist? How could it possibly be
ethical?
When I asked Dr. Turner why laparoscopic surgery isn’t the norm for women, he
replied that female patients haven’t driven the demand for change. That men
furiously guard their “manhood” and demand that their doctors do so, too. That
if women don’t yell loud enough to protect their “womanhood” and demand that
women’s healthcare be brought up to par with men’s, the medical establishment
won’t be forced to listen.
I’m yelling. My voice alone isn’t enough, though. Join me in demanding equality.
We deserve it.
Ericka Dixon is a homemaker and accidental advocate for women’s health.
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This article was previously published the
Santa Barbara Independent
