What’s the last thing I learned?

I recently underwent an endoscopy, and I’m happy to report that the initial examination looked promising! I need to wait for the lab results to get the final confirmation. My doctor assured me that she will send a letter with updates as soon as she has more information. I’m excited to hear back!!

After three weeks without any communication about my results or treatment plan, I decided to take action. I called the office twice to express my concerns, and they assured me that my message would be passed on to the doctor. Feeling proactive, I made a third call and requested to speak with her manager. Although her manager didn’t reach out to me, I was relieved when the doctor finally addressed my concerns a few days later. Clearly, my persistence paid off!

During The Three weeks of waiting

Her delayed communication profoundly affected me. It felt as though my life lacked significance. It seemed as if my health didn’t matter enough for her to take a moment to reach out. I couldn’t comprehend how a doctor—someone entrusted with the well-being of others—could be so unresponsive. I kept wondering, “Aren’t doctors supposed to be accountable?” and “Do they not have a duty to care?”

Her lack of communication made the experience challenging and took a toll on my well-being. Over the course of three weeks, I observed an increase in my blood pressure and recognized that my frustration and assumptions regarding her indifference were impacting me emotionally. Furthermore, I couldn’t stop thinking that she continued her daily activities while I was burdened by the emotional and physical repercussions of waiting in silence.

In that moment, a painful truth emerged: I was just one patient among many, simply another number in a system that is overwhelmed and breaking down. Today, doctors are struggling with patient overload. They often can’t recall patients’ faces, the procedures they performed, or even the conversations they’ve had. A visit to the doctor has lost its personal touch.

Many patients wait weeks or even months for a callback, while others never receive one. There are also reports of patients leaving after procedures without the medications they were supposed to be given. This situation goes beyond just poor service; it indicates that the healthcare system is under significant strain.

Who is responsible? The physician? The healthcare system? Overpopulation? The migration of individuals into specific states? The increasing prevalence of diseases linked to pharmaceuticals, processed foods, environmental pollutants, and genetic modification. Or the impossible demands placed on medical professionals who are expected to function flawlessly under conditions that guarantee imperfection?

I settled down and took a deep breath. Then, I shifted my perspective and prioritized my health. This change helped me find a more positive approach to tackle the situation. I decided to contact her manager and report the incident.

I chose this physician after careful consideration. She came highly recommended, received excellent reviews, and appeared knowledgeable and approachable during our first meeting. Was her profile merely a facade?

A few days later, she contacted me, and the outcome was favorable. She retained her typical friendly and vibrant demeanor; however, the issue of neglect persisted. I reflected on the situation thoroughly: should I disregard the incident or report it??

The conclusion

I realized that hoping for change without taking action is wishful thinking. Systems do not transform because we silently endure their failures. They change when people refuse to normalize unacceptable behavior. Reporting her negligence was not an act of revenge; it was an act of responsibility. If institutions designed to protect our well-being are failing, then we must hold them accountable. Looking the other way solves nothing.

Another question emerged: Does reporting even matter? If doctors are overwhelmed and the network is collapsing under the weight of too many patients and illnesses, will my complaint make a difference? Or will it be absorbed into the noise of a system too strained to respond?

The truth is complicated. On a systemic level, one complaint may not fix the machine. But on a personal level, taking action matters. It protects our health. It relieves the emotional burden. It restores a sense of agency. And it plants a seed—one that contributes to change, even if the results are not immediate or visible.

Holding on to frustration does not resolve the issue; it only impacts an individual’s well-being. Taking action, even small action, is a form of self-preservation. Whether or not the system changes, I changed. I felt relief. I honored my health. I honored my worth.

When we entrust our lives to doctors, we hope they will care. We hope the organization will support them so they can support us. But until the system itself is repaired, patients must speak up—not only for themselves, but for every person who feels like a number, unseen and unheard in a world where the human element is slipping away.

I reported the incident because I believe it is my duty—not just for my own well-being, but for the collective well-being of all patients navigating a system on the brink. If we do nothing, nothing changes. If we act, we create the possibility of a better tomorrow.

Lessons to be learned follow in part #2