I went to my gp in May with a small persistent pain in my abdomen, right side. He said probably IBS, to drink more water, cut out junk, spices and alcohol. (I don't drink and dislike spicy food)
The pain grew progressively worse, I went back every two weeks, asking for help. He grew increasingly exasperated, and finally told me at the end of September that I was a woman of a certain age seeking attention, and that exercise and a hobby would be the best thing. At no point was I offered a scan.
I was 35 and he was a flabby ill mannered nerd. If I was going to seek attention, it certainly wouldn't have been from him.
By that point the pain was constant and I was eating paracetamol like sweeties. I decided to move GP practice.
At 3am Oct 13th I woke up in more pain than I can describe. Not thinking straight I got in my car (bad idea) and drove 30 miles to hospital. Got through the doors of a&e and passed out in triage. Came to on a ward.
The a&e guys were lovely, so kind. Such a relief. By then I had sores all up my back and a high fever. They did an ultrasound, found a dermoid the size of a grapefruit on my right ovary that had twisted. Three hours in surgery to remove ovary, fallopian tube & dermoid, and "clean me up". Seven days in women's surgical, six weeks off work. Hip to hip scar.
They also kindly moved my car from the ambulance bay where I'd abandoned it, to a car park, and worked out who I was.
Someone must have rung my gp and told him to come and apologise because he turned up by my bed on day 3. He couldn't bring himself to say sorry, managed "Oh, so there was something wrong with you after all" and disappeared. If I'd been able to sit up, I'd have punched him. Arrogant fuckwit. Thankfully he is no longer practising.
I have only had female GPs since, and they are far better. They listen, are competent, not too busy admiring their own genius.
As you can tell, I'm still cross. 😁