Fighting to Be Helped

There is a particular kind of exhaustion that comes from having to fight to be helped.

Not in a loud or visible way, but in the quiet persistence of explaining your pain over and over again. Of waiting. Of being told to try something else. Of learning how to advocate for yourself in spaces where you thought care would be given freely.

This has been my experience with the healthcare system.

For years, I have lived with ongoing physical pain. I was diagnosed with PCOS when I was younger, but that diagnosis came without a plan. There was no follow-up, no clear direction, no real support for how to manage what I was experiencing. It was named, and then left there.

The pain continued.

It became something I learned to live around. Something I managed quietly, even when it was overwhelming. And over time, it became clear that what I was experiencing was not being fully understood or taken seriously.

It has taken almost twenty years to reach a point where I am finally being seen by a specialist.

That timeline alone says something.

Getting to this point required persistence. It required explaining my experience repeatedly. It required continuing to show up, even when it felt like I was not being fully heard.

And even now, being in the system does not mean that the process is easy.

Each step comes with its own challenges. Procedures that are described as routine do not feel routine in a body that carries trauma. Options are presented as standard, even when they may not fully align with what I am experiencing or what I feel my body needs.

There is an expectation to move through a sequence of steps. To follow a process that is already set out. To try certain interventions before others can even be considered.

Even when there is uncertainty about whether those interventions will help.

Even when there is a possibility they may cause more harm.

There is something deeply difficult about navigating a system where you are seeking relief, but still have to prove, wait, and comply before your needs are fully acknowledged.

And this is not just about me.

Many women experience this.

For Indigenous women, it is layered with a history of being dismissed, of not being believed, of having our pain minimized or misunderstood. That history shapes how we enter these spaces and how we are received within them.

Care should not require this level of persistence.

Relief should not be this difficult to access.

And yet, this is what it often looks like.

Continuing to show up.

Continuing to ask for answers.

Continuing to move through a system that asks more of you than it should.

There is strength in that, but there is also a need for change.

Because no one should have to fight this hard just to be helped.