I’ve had quite a few surgeries in my life, starting when I was in high school. You can imagine by age 24, I was used to the surgery process. The cold waiting room, the scratchy plastic wristbands that let everyone know I was allergic to penicillin. The beds feel more akin to a cot, and even when the blankets are warm, they still make my skin crawl. The neverending beeping of the hospital equipment, the unintelligible chatter of nurses and doctors. It may seem like a backwards idea to become accustomed to surgery, but it’s what I knew I needed to do given the amount of medical treatment that was coming my way.

Sixth surgery was this past spring. It was at the same surgery center I’d had my previous five surgeries, so I had prior coping techniques I was able to use. For the most part, it all went well. I felt as though I had control over my experience there. But this time, for whatever reason, the anesthesia did not work as planned. I woke up in extreme amounts of pain, frantically fumbling for the button to call the nurses as quickly as I could. I was initially relieved when they showed up, but it was immediately clear that they were not hearing what I was saying. Instead of brainstorming potential pain management, the two nurses (who meant no harm) began to assure me I was only having a panic attack, and that when I calmed down, the pain would go away. I tried to express that I was no stranger to the post-operative experience, and that this pain was particularly bad. But, they saw my file stating I had a diagnosis of ASD, and their mind was made up. They kept suggesting putting an anti-anxiety medication into my IV, which was scary. I knew they meant well, but they saw a mental health diagnosis and made the assumption that I was just unable to handle the environment I was in. They ended up calling my mom back, who vouched for me to get better treatment for the physical pain.

It’s understandable why health professionals might jump to the conclusion that a patient with a mental health diagnosis has more of a likelihood to experience anxiety and disruptive emotions. While that can be true, it’s so important to listen to your patient and not just read words from a file. The spectrum of neurodivergence is massive, and interacting with one patient on the spectrum may be an entirely different experience than another. Care needs to be individualized, which is something that also has to be addressed at an institutional level. There is no overnight fix, but my hope is that hospitals and groups of medical professionals have consistent meetings and programs aimed towards better accommodating the needs of their neurodivergent patients.

~Anonymous Writer

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