Content note: This post talks about medical dismissal, difficult healthcare experiences and chronic pain. Read it in bits, skip around, or come back another day. It’ll keep.
The short version: You deserve healthcare that’s safe, respectful and explained in a way you can follow. If you feel dismissed, write down your main concern, ask what they’ve considered, ask for a clear next step, and bring support if you have it. New, severe or fast-worsening symptoms still need urgent medical assessment.
For a long stretch after I broke my ankle, the most consistent thing about my healthcare was hearing that my foot was fine.
It wasn’t. It was complex regional pain syndrome, or CRPS. Getting there took months of hearing that what I was feeling was normal, exaggerated or psychological.
That period changed how I walk into appointments. It changed how quickly I trust a new clinician. And it taught me a fair bit about what to say, what to write down, and when to stop spending spoons on someone who isn’t listening.
This post covers what medical gaslighting can look like, how it’s different from a doctor simply disagreeing with you, and practical ways to prepare and speak up. Including on the days you’ve got almost nothing left for either.
It’s lived experience and general information, not medical advice. What’s worked for me won’t suit everyone.
What is medical gaslighting?
Medical gaslighting is the term people use when a health professional dismisses or minimises your symptoms in a way that leaves you doubting your own experience.
It gets used pretty broadly, so it’s worth being precise. Not every wrong diagnosis, slow diagnosis or treatment that didn’t work is gaslighting. Sometimes dismissal, bias, not investigated properly or plain old bad communication is the more accurate description.
Intent is often murky, too. Most clinicians aren’t sitting there plotting to make you doubt yourself. But dismissive communication doesn’t need bad intent to do damage. It delays assessment. It wears down trust. And it makes the next appointment harder to book.
You don’t need to prove what someone intended to know that an appointment felt unsafe, or that your concern wasn’t dealt with.
What it can look like
Medical gaslighting or dismissal might include:
- Saying symptoms are “all in your head” without assessing them properly.
- Downplaying how severe your symptoms are, or how much they affect your life.
- Jumping to a psychological explanation before anyone has looked at physical causes.
- Brushing off changes in symptoms, treatment effects or medication side effects.
- Giving explanations you can’t follow, or not explaining at all.
- Pushing a test, medicine or procedure without talking through the risks, benefits and alternatives.
- Treating your questions as “difficult” rather than as part of making an informed decision.
- Focusing on your weight, mental health or disability instead of the concern you actually raised.
- Refusing to say what they’ve considered, what they’ve ruled out, or what happens next.
A clinician reaching a different conclusion from you isn’t automatically dismissive. The difference is in how they get there. A respectful disagreement still involves listening, an explanation you can follow and a safe plan for what happens next. Dismissal skips those bits.
What happened to me
I broke my ankle in 2019. Painful and inconvenient, but the sort of injury that’s supposed to heal on a fairly predictable timeline.
Mine didn’t.
The swelling, burning and pins and needles never settled. I didn’t know the word allodynia until 2020, but I knew exactly what it felt like. The lightest puff of air on my foot felt like a category 5 cyclone. A shower felt like someone was catapulting medieval maces at it. The swelling got so bad I genuinely thought the skin might split.
I wanted three things. For it to stop. To know why it was happening. And to be believed. What I really didn’t want was for anyone to write me off as dramatic, or worse, treat me like I was after drugs.
I raised the burning and tingling with my surgical team over and over. I didn’t have the language for it then that I have now, but I kept describing it. Each time, they told me it was normal healing and would settle once the hardware came out.
Spoiler: it didn’t.
When it got worse after surgery number three, the surgical team sent me back to my GP for more medication.
My GP was the one who kept listening. We adjusted medicines based on what I reported, kept investigating and kept looking for answers together. That partnership is what eventually got me a diagnosis.
The months before diagnosis weren’t only physically painful. Hearing again and again that what I was feeling was normal, exaggerated or in my head made me start doubting my own body. Which is a strange place to be when your body is very loudly telling you something is wrong.
Diagnosis didn’t fix the problem. It changed its shape.
After diagnosis, the issue became treatment conversations that didn’t really feel like conversations. Expensive or invasive options were sometimes presented as though there were no real alternatives. Concerns I raised about side effects, or about how a treatment was actually affecting me, didn’t always get much airtime.
One appointment has stuck with me. A treatment that had previously eased my pain stopped working. During the infusion I said it felt unusually cold and that I felt unwell. They slowed the flow rate, but I still got no relief.
Afterwards, it felt like they’d put my concerns about the treatment down to my mental state before anyone had properly looked into them.
To be clear, psychological support can be a genuinely useful part of chronic pain care. I’m a big fan of the neuroscience of pain. But “have you considered your mental health?” shouldn’t be a substitute for checking the physical stuff first.
I walked out angry, out of pocket and a lot less willing to trust the next recommendation. That was the end of my time with pain specialist number three.
What changed
I went back to my GP, reviewed my medications and rebuilt my care team. This time I knew what I was looking for: clinicians who’d explain their reasoning, change course when I told them something wasn’t working, and treat me as part of the team rather than a problem to manage.
These days my care is a partnership between my GP and my Scrambler Therapy clinician, who I’ve been seeing since 2022. We review the overall plan at my top-up sessions, and any tweaks go back through my GP. It’s not complicated. It’s just collaborative, which turns out to make an enormous difference.
I’m very aware there’s privilege in being able to change clinicians and self-fund care. A lot of people can’t. Money, distance, waitlists, transport and a shortage of specialists can make “just find someone else” completely unrealistic.
So most of what follows is about what you can do inside the appointment you’ve actually got.
If you’ve only got a few spoons
You don’t need to arrive with a perfectly prepared case. When capacity is low, four lines do most of the heavy lifting:
- My main concern is: the symptom or change that worries you most.
- It started or changed: a rough date or timeframe.
- It affects me by: what it’s doing to sleep, moving, eating, work, showering or anything else you need to do.
- Today I need: an assessment, an explanation, help with symptoms, a written plan or another opinion.
Pop it in a note on your phone and read it out. Pain and fatigue are terrible for recall, and nobody’s handing out marks for doing it from memory.
Phrases that help in appointments
Speaking up is hard when you’re unwell. It’s harder again if you’ve had bad experiences before. Borrow or tweak any of these:
- “I understand the cause may not be clear yet. What possibilities have you considered?”
- “What makes you confident this isn’t urgent?”
- “Which symptoms or changes mean I should get urgent help?”
- “What’s the next step if this doesn’t improve?”
- “Could you explain that in plain language?”
- “Can we slow down? The pain is making it hard to take this in.”
- “What are the benefits, risks, alternatives and likely costs?”
- “I’m not ready to consent until I understand my options.”
- “I’m worried we’re putting my symptoms down to anxiety before we’ve looked at other causes.”
- “Could you please note the concern I raised and the plan we agreed on?”
- “I’d like a second opinion.”
These are tools, not homework. It shouldn’t be your job to find the magic words that make someone listen. But on days when my brain has quietly left the building, having a script ready means I don’t have to come up with one on the spot.
Prepare without making it a second job
Detailed symptom tracking can help. It can also turn into a part-time job nobody’s paying you for. Collect what’s useful and stop there.
Before the appointment, jot down:
- Your main concern, and when it started or changed.
- What makes it better or worse.
- How it’s affecting daily life.
- Any recent changes to medicines or treatment.
- Up to three questions you want answered.
- What you’re hoping to walk out with.
During or after, note:
- What the clinician thinks might be going on.
- What they’ve ruled out, and how.
- The agreed treatment or next step.
- When follow-up should happen.
- What should send you back for urgent review.
If writing is hard, ask your support person to take notes. You can also ask whether you can record the conversation. Recording laws and service policies vary, so always ask first.
Bring backup if you can
A trusted friend, family member, carer, support worker or advocate can:
- Take notes.
- Remind you of your questions.
- Describe changes they’ve noticed.
- Ask for clarification when you’re flagging.
- Help you make sense of it all afterwards.
Not everyone has someone, and going alone doesn’t make your concerns any less credible. You can still ask the service about accessibility support, a longer appointment, telehealth or their patient liaison service.
Pain makes appointments harder
Persistent pain, bad sleep, medication side effects, stress and sensory overload all make it harder to concentrate, remember things and explain yourself clearly.
That doesn’t make you unreliable, and it doesn’t mean you’re imagining your symptoms. It means the appointment may need to be more accessible.
You can ask for:
- Information in writing, including a written summary of the plan.
- One question at a time.
- Extra time to process.
- A quieter place to wait.
- To sit, stand or move around as you need to.
- A support person.
- A longer appointment, where that’s available.
You’re also allowed to say: “I can’t take in any more today. What’s the most important thing I need to know before I leave?”
You can ask for another opinion
If you’re unsure about a diagnosis or treatment plan, you can ask another qualified health professional to review it. They might confirm the original advice, see it differently or suggest other options.
Access isn’t equal, though. Cost, location, waitlists, transport and referral requirements can make it hard or impossible. If another opinion isn’t on the cards right now, ask your current clinician to explain:
- The working diagnosis.
- What else they considered.
- The evidence behind their recommendation.
- What they’ll review if things continue or change.
Wanting a second opinion isn’t the same as shopping for a particular answer or medicine. It’s reasonable to want enough information to make an informed choice.
Your healthcare rights in Australia
The Australian Charter of Healthcare Rights sets out seven rights: access, safety, respect, partnership, information, privacy and giving feedback.
In plain terms, you have the right to take part in decisions about your care, and to get information in a way you can understand.
Informed consent is more than a clinician handing you a script and you signing a form. It should be voluntary and well timed, and you should get the chance to understand the likely benefits, risks, alternatives, consequences and costs before agreeing. Consent also isn’t one and done: it carries on for as long as the care does.
If you’re unhappy with your care, options include:
- Raising it with the clinician.
- Talking to another clinician or the person in charge.
- Contacting the service’s patient liaison, consumer liaison or complaints team.
- Contacting the health complaints organisation in your state or territory.
If making a complaint feels like too much, an advocate or support person may be able to help. You can also decide your energy is better spent elsewhere. Not complaining doesn’t mean what happened was OK.
Ryan’s Rule in Queensland
Ryan’s Rule gives patients in Queensland Health public hospitals, and their families and carers, a three-step way to escalate concerns. It applies in emergency departments and some Hospital in the Home services.
Use it when a patient is getting worse, or not improving as expected, and the healthcare team hasn’t properly addressed your concerns.
- Talk to the treating nurse, midwife or doctor.
- Still worried? Ask to speak with the nurse in charge, unit manager or liaison officer.
- Still worried after that? Call 13 HEALTH (13 43 25 84) and ask for a Ryan’s Rule clinical review.
Ryan’s Rule isn’t a general complaints process, and it doesn’t replace emergency help. For a life-threatening emergency, call Triple Zero (000).
Outside Queensland? Ask the hospital about its patient, family or carer escalation process.
What good care looks like
There’s a line I keep coming back to: the life I’m living outside the appointment needs to shape the care I receive inside it.
Patient-led care doesn’t mean I diagnose myself or run every clinical decision. It means my knowledge of my body, my goals and what my days actually look like sit at the table alongside clinical expertise.
In practice, good care tends to look like a clinician who:
- Listens without interrupting or assuming.
- Is honest about uncertainty.
- Takes symptoms and treatment effects seriously.
- Talks through options instead of presenting one path as the only hope.
- Checks you’ve actually understood.
- Welcomes questions and support people.
- Agrees with you on what happens next.
- Writes down your concerns accurately.
- Knows when someone else’s expertise is needed.
Clinical expertise and lived expertise are different things. Both belong in the room.
Traits to look for in a pain specialist
The list above is about good care in general. This one is more specific: what I’ve learned to look for in a pain specialist, after five of them since 2020.
This is my opinion only. I also know I’m privileged to have been able to make these changes, and it isn’t possible for many warriors. If swapping clinicians isn’t on the cards, these still work as a checklist for the conversations you can have with the team you’ve got.
Someone who walks the talk of patient-centred care.
Yes, I want their expert opinion. But I’m the expert in my body. I know how it feels, and I’m the one who deals with the consequences, good and bad, of the treatment and care plan. I want to build that plan with them, not have it dictated to me.
Someone who understands that what works for one CRPS patient may not work for another.
We aren’t a tick-a-box diagnosis, it’s not in our heads, and there are plenty of reasons we might not want to pursue a treatment option.
- Your body may not tolerate it. I don’t tolerate a lot of medications, and it doesn’t matter how many specialists have said “we’ll just adjust the dose to find a better level”.
- It may be cost.
- It may be access. Clinicians with CRPS experience are rare, and educating one while you’re receiving treatment is scary. It can trigger unintended flares, and it takes a hell of a lot of spoons you just don’t have some days.
No means no.
Someone whose plan respects my schedule and timeline, not just their clinic availability.
I’ve said no to treatments because I wasn’t ready, emotionally, physically and/or financially. The reason shouldn’t matter. What matters is that I give informed consent and that we work towards my goals, together, at a pace that feels comfortable and safe for me.
Sometimes that looks like a telehealth or FaceTime appointment instead of an in-clinic visit. A little flexibility in how and when things happen makes a world of difference. Some days I don’t feel in control at all, because the beast has taken over, and this is how I get some of it back.
Someone who checks I understand the next steps, and why.
I like the gory details. I want the clinical explanation of why I’m doing something in my care plan. But taking it all in costs a lot of spoons, and some days I don’t have them. I still want my pain specialist to explain the rationale and check that I’ve understood it, in a way that suits my capacity that day.
Sometimes that’s a full conversation. Sometimes it’s something to read in my own time, or a follow-up appointment.
Equally, I know plenty of warriors who don’t want the detail and just want to get on with the doing. That’s an equally legitimate way to approach it. A good specialist finds out which one you are, rather than assuming.
Someone who is curious about emerging treatments and willing to explore them with me.
I have access to Scrambler Therapy, different laser light therapies, somatic therapies and different medication protocols because of the mindset of my care team.
Someone who will listen to the options I bring to the table.
I’m in several online patient support groups, which is how I found out about Scrambler Therapy. I also research a lot. And when I say a lot, I mean a lot.
CRPS led me into studying nutrition, because I wanted to understand how my body works and how food and supplementation might help or hinder pain and CRPS. All backed by the powerful patient control group of one (but the patient consent is highly informed and regularly verified).
I don’t want a clinician to dismiss me for consulting Dr Google. I know Dr Google can do harm and shouldn’t replace joint decision making with your care team. But I want to understand their position on what I’ve found, without the condescending, arrogant brush-off that comes from not having looked into it and not wanting to admit that.
Research into CRPS is thin, and clinicians have justified many treatments by borrowing studies of other conditions with similar symptoms. There is no silver bullet and no single answer.
Someone who understands that a CRPS care plan is multidisciplinary.
It takes a village, and a pain specialist is one part of it. I want my care team talking to each other when needed. Complex problems need different thinking and different engagement. The god complex can stay out of the room. The only centre of this conversation is me, the patient.
It may sound like I’m describing a unicorn. They do exist. I know this first-hand.
If you’re still hunting for yours, Preparing for Medical Appointments: My Top Tips covers how to get the most out of the appointments you’ve already got.
Finding health information you can trust
I will happily lose an afternoon to PubMed. I’ve also learned that online communities are brilliant for connection and lived experience, and less brilliant at telling you whether something applies to you.
Good Australian starting points:
- Healthdirect Australia
- The Therapeutic Goods Administration’s medicine safety information
- The Consumer Medicine Information leaflet that comes with prescription medicines
- PubMed, for published research
- Your GP, specialist or pharmacist
When you’re reading about a treatment, ask:
- Who made this?
- Are the claims backed by references?
- Are they selling the treatment or product?
- Do they explain the risks, the uncertainty and the alternatives?
- Was it studied in people like me?
Research is great for working out what to ask. It can’t assess your individual situation or replace proper care.
Appointment days are no-spoons days
Here’s the bit nobody puts on the referral: appointments are exhausting. Getting there, waiting, explaining, advocating, getting home again. By the time I’m back through the door, dinner is usually the last thing I’ve got spoons for.
So I plan appointment days as no-spoons days. Something in the freezer that future-me can reheat. A supermarket roast chook and a bag of salad. Toast with something good on it. Whatever gets food in without asking anything more of you.
If you need ideas, my post on convenience ingredients as accessibility tools is a good place to start.
Frequently asked questions
Is every disagreement with a doctor medical gaslighting?
No. Clinicians and patients can read symptoms or evidence differently. A respectful disagreement still includes listening, an explanation you can follow, proper assessment and a safe follow-up plan.
What can I do if I feel dismissed?
State your main concern clearly. Ask what they’ve considered and what happens next, and ask them to document it. You can also bring a support person, seek another opinion or contact the service’s patient liaison or complaints team.
Can I ask for a second opinion?
Yes. Access, referrals and costs depend on the service and setting. Ask what records or referral you’ll need.
Can I bring someone to an appointment?
Usually, yes. A support person can take notes, help you remember questions and help with communication. Check with the service first if space, infection control or privacy might be an issue.
When can I use Ryan’s Rule?
When someone in a Queensland Health public hospital is getting worse or not improving as expected, and staff haven’t properly addressed concerns. It isn’t an outpatient complaints process.
What if I don’t have the energy to advocate for myself?
Completely understandable. Start with one sentence, one written concern or one person who can help. You don’t have to document everything, confront anyone or make a complaint for your experience to matter.
You deserve care that includes you
Writing this reminded me how much those years changed me. I’m more cautious now. I ask more questions, I write more things down, and I’m quicker to walk away from care that doesn’t include me.
But I haven’t given up on healthcare. I’ve seen what it looks like when it works, and it isn’t magic. It’s someone who listens, explains and is willing to adjust.
You’re the one living with your condition every day. That makes you the expert in how it affects your body and your life. A good clinician brings the medical knowledge. Good care makes room for both.
You deserve to ask questions. You deserve information you can understand, and a say in decisions about your body.
And if you’re too exhausted to advocate perfectly? You still deserve care.
