After the examination, he asked me if it was ok if he could bring in a few students to show them the effects of MD. Has it been discussed beforehand? Were the students asked to be available today? I felt uncomfortable, but said yes. About seven students entered the room. They all seemed so young. In each of their hands, they had a clipboard with a pen attached. Not a single student bothered to introduce themselves. Dr. X explained to the students about my condition, and the extent of my diagnosis (which sounded as if he didn’t really know much about muscular dystrophy). As I looked around, I saw all of the students’students scribbling away, diligently.
I felt like a lab rat being experimented on. We rely on doctors to improve our well-being, but this was not the case. It was quite the opposite. I was standing in front of a medical audience, while the doctor gave an anatomy lesson on my body parts. To Dr. X, I was just one more experiment, nothing else. I was pregnant, and my hormones were so screwed up that I did not know if I should be embarrassed, or whether being seen and discussed like this would help in the future. I had mixed emotions.