More than a stomach bug
By Ryan Hartson
Master's student, Online MPH in Population and Health Sciences
This article was originally developed for PH510: Communication Fundamentals, in the Population Health Studies online MPH program. Learn more about the storytelling series from class instructor, William D. Lopez.
I lounged on a blue-and-white striped beach towel with my feet buried in the warm,
golden sand. The sound of crashing waves filled the air as I gazed out at an endless
ocean. The salty breeze ruffled my hair, and a flock of seagulls passed overhead,
momentarily blocking the rays of the bright sun. With a soft smile, I leaned back,
and enjoyed the peaceful moment.
BEEP BEEP
The piercing screech of my alarm clock jolted me back to reality. This beach, the
only escape from the severe stomach pain that has been plaguing me for the last two
weeks, was gone. The only rays I saw were the ones that peeked through my blinds,
illuminating the various Marvel posters hanging in my room. As I hobbled out of bed,
I tripped over the untouched mountain of fifth-grade homework that had been collecting
dust for the last two weeks.
I opened the door and started my journey to the living room couch. As I passed family
photos and mis-matched decorations hung by my color-blind dad, I noticed a light on
in the kitchen. My mom, a worrying and protective woman, was unloading the food that
had sustained me for the last two weeks: red jello cups, chicken noodle soup cans,
and ritz cracker boxes. After shutting the cabinet door, she informed me that she
made another appointment with another doctor, the fourth appointment and the third
doctor in two weeks. My expectations were low. The previous doctors brushed off my
pain as just a “stomach bug.” Still, I changed and followed her to the car.
When we arrived, my mom and I sat down in the dull waiting room, surrounded by the
coughs and sniffles from the other children. A massive glass frame hung on the wall,
filled with playing cards, board game pieces, letters, numbers, and toys. This glass
frame was perfect for playing “I Spy,” but I was not in the mood. Soon, I heard a
nurse call my name. We followed the nurse and, after taking a quick detour for height
and weight measurements, arrived at the exam room.
Unlike the waiting room, the walls of the exam room were covered with a vibrant blue
paint, similar to the color of a robin’s egg. The walls were so vibrant that they
reflected the harsh light from above. A Sesame Street border wrapped around the ceiling,
portraying the smiling faces of the familiar muppets. The room was meant to invoke
feelings of joy and happiness, but I was too defeated.
As I climbed on the evaluation table, the disposable paper crunched like dry leaves.
I closed my eyes and tried to picture my escape. The disposable paper was the blue-and-white
striped beach towel and the harsh light was the rays of the bright sun. I began to
relax and buried my feet in the imaginary sand.
KNOCK KNOCK
The doctor had arrived.
“Good morning, Ryan. I understand that the pain you are experiencing in your stomach
has not gotten any better. I have a few questions for you before continuing with the
examination. If you can, please answer as best you can.”
“Okay.” I have the questions memorized at this point, so it should not be too hard.
“If you had to rate your pain on a scale of 1 to 10, how would you rate it?”
“7.” I would say a 9, but no one believes me.
“Have you been able to keep your food and liquids down?”
“No.” Same as last time.
“Have you noticed any blood in your stool?”
“Yes.” Same as last time, too. I could be at home watching movies right now.
“What are the exact medications you have been taking the last few weeks?”
“I… I am not sure,” I replied, slightly stunned.
This question, the question that would solve all of my problems, was new to us. Before
the debilitating stomach pain, I had been given medication for strep throat and a
sinus infection. My mom listed the complicated names of the medication, then, after
a brief exam, the doctor insisted I visit the Emergency Department for further testing.
While I was reluctant to undergo more tests, I was relieved that a doctor was not
brushing aside our concerns.
After multiple blood draws, a stool sample, and a CT scan, I curled up in the hospital
bed that was assigned to me. While the vibrant blue paint of the previous exam room
had been overwhelming, I would have preferred it to the colorless, depressing walls
I was currently surrounded by. After countless hours, the test results were in. The
doctors informed me that I had “clostridium difficile colitis," or c. diff., a bacterial
infection of the colon.
While medications are meant to help you heal, mine had done the opposite. The medication
I had taken destroyed all the beneficial bacteria in my stomach, allowing something
far worse to replace it: the Clostridioides difficile bacteria.
Typical symptoms of c.diff. range from diarrhea to life-threatening damage to the colon. Unfortunately, because
c. diff. mainly affects older adults in hospitals or long-term care settings, my previous
doctors did not think to check for this infection. Additionally, the untreated c.
diff. caused me to develop pancreatitis, or swelling of the pancreas. According to
the doctor, my pancreas could have ruptured at any time due to the severity of the
inflammation. Ironically, the only way for me to improve was to take more medication.
Once the medication started working, I traded the severe stomach pain for the pain
of making up three weeks of homework in one weekend.
Even though this experience happened in my childhood, I am still hesitant to go to
the doctor for fear of being ignored. According to a study conducted in 2014, many individuals share this same fear. In one study, approximately 20% of respondents
fell into the category of “unfavorable evaluations of seeking medical care” when identifying
reasons as to why they avoid the doctor. This category includes communication issues,
trust issues, and perceived discrimination. That is, many of these individuals did
not believe they would get proper care or believe that the doctor would be too busy
to dedicate enough time to them. In my situation, if the initial doctor looked at
my recent history with the medications, I might not have ended up in the hospital.
My story is one of many where a patient felt ignored by their doctor. In How Serena Williams Saved Her Own Life, Serena recounts her childbirth experience, where she almost lost her life due to
complications after giving birth to her daughter, Olympia. Despite having a relatively
smooth pregnancy, she faced life-threatening issues during labor. Unfortunately, this
included the baby’s heart rate dropping and her own fear of blood clots, which she
had previously experienced. After a C-section was decided for her safety, Serena's
body became paralyzed. After the C-section, Serena felt unheard when her concerns
about starting a blood thinner treatment were dismissed. Her ability to advocate for
herself in this moment, despite the lack of immediate support from medical staff,
ultimately saved her life. As she stated, “being heard and appropriately treated was
the difference between life or death for me.” It is essential for doctors to listen
to their patients and ensure we are being appropriately treated to avoid situations
like these.
Sometimes, the most important question is the simple one: “How are you really feeling?”
Had my previous doctors asked this question and really listened, they would have realized
that my pain was more than a stomach bug.
About the author
Ryan Hartson is a second year student in the online MPH program in Population and Health Sciences at the University of Michigan School of Public Health. Ryan is currently training
to become a Registered Environmental Health Specialist and specializes in Sewage Treatment
Systems and Private Water Systems.
