Chapter 1: A Personal Encounter with Medical Dismissiveness

In my early twenties, I made the choice to receive the contraceptive injection Depo-Provera. I visited my local GP's office, where the nurse administered the injection into my buttock. Though the experience lacked dignity, it wasn’t overly painful.

Just as I managed to pull my jeans back up, a wave of nausea hit me. I rushed to the sink, feeling extremely unwell but fortunately did not vomit. Given the sudden onset of these symptoms, I asked the nurse whether it could be an allergic reaction to the injection.

“Oh no, you’re just feeling lightheaded from the needle,” she insisted. Despite her reassurances, I remained skeptical. I had never experienced such a reaction before, and it likely didn’t help that I was also nursing a terrible hangover—a common state for me at that time.

After a few moments, I felt better and left the clinic. However, once home, I still felt off. I had just graduated and was living with my parents, and I recall my mother commenting on my pale complexion. I decided to retreat to bed to recover.

Upon undressing, I discovered several large, white hives on my chest. Initially, I thought they might be insect bites, but a nagging feeling told me it was an allergic response.

When I awoke later, I felt significantly better, but the incident lingered in my mind. I convinced myself that perhaps I had overreacted, especially since the nurse had assured me there was no chance of an allergy.

Fast forward three months to my second injection. By this time, I had relocated to London and had a different GP. As the nurse readied the injection, I recounted my previous reaction and again inquired about possible allergies.

“No, it’s completely safe. I’ve administered these injections for years and have never encountered an allergy,” she replied confidently.

While I was hesitant, my youth and naivety clouded my judgment. I hadn’t yet learned that the word of medical professionals isn’t infallible. My instincts were screaming for caution, but the nurse quickly brushed off my concerns and administered the injection.

At first, there was no immediate reaction, which momentarily relieved me. However, as I stepped outside, I was suddenly seized by violent sneezing, and I grasped the wall for support. A few steps later, my hands began to burn, and my face felt strange.

Panic set in as I realized I had been right all along. I felt faint and staggered back toward the clinic. Apologizing profusely, I rushed to the front of the waiting room line—something that usually would have made me uncomfortable as an introvert.

“I think it’s an emergency!” I explained to the surprised receptionist and waiting patients. “I just had an injection, and I believe I’m having an allergic reaction. My hands and face are swelling.” The receptionist immediately grabbed a phone.

Within moments, a doctor rushed into the waiting room, moving with an urgency I had never witnessed before. My blood pressure was plummeting, and I struggled to remain upright. She quickly led me back to the same room where I had received the injection.

The doctor interrupted another patient, declaring it an emergency. They laid me on a couch and took my blood pressure. The look on the doctor’s face was terrifying. She quietly instructed the nurse to prepare adrenaline but not to open it yet.

She handed me two bottles of small white pills, a cup of water, and urged me to swallow as many as I could, as fast as possible. It felt surreal, like an overdose under medical supervision. Though I struggled with pill swallowing, I panicked and began choking them down without knowing what they were—presumably steroids and antihistamines.

The realization that I might be on the brink of death was horrifying, especially during an anaphylactic episode. My heart raced, and my blood pressure dropped. My eyes swelled nearly shut, and my entire body felt like it was on fire.

In tears, I pleaded, “I don’t want to die!” It may have been a cliché statement, but given the circumstances, it was entirely understandable. I continued to swallow the pills