Last week I read a study online that said doctors are having a problem communicating with black women about menopause. l must admit the article surprised me because I, personally, have a wonderful relationship with my gynecologist. As a matter of fact I think she gives me more information than I want to know. She also provides lots of options for treatment of my menopausal symptoms. Is it because my gynecologist is a female? Or is it because she's black like me?
The doctors who conducted the study said women in their focus groups expressed a lack of confidence in their treating physicians. The doctors were quoted as saying "The women in our study put great stock in how their mothers or other older women in their communities had managed menopause symptoms." WHAT? I want to know who these women are because most of the women I've interacted with about this issue say it was NEVER DISCUSSED with their mothers. In my own mother's case, I thought she was experiencing some type of mental breakdown because of her erratic behavior. She never once identified her symptoms as "menopause" and I certainly don't remember her seeking any type of medical treatment.
It seems as though just like everything else in life, race plays a factor. But menopause is not a black, white, asian or latino issue. Menopause crosses all racial lines. It is a true Equal Opportunity Annoyer! Physicians need to recognize this fact and treat accordingly.
To read the entire article, please visit my website.
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Showing posts with label middle age women. Show all posts
Showing posts with label middle age women. Show all posts
Monday, April 09, 2007
Thursday, March 01, 2007
Black History Month: A Time for Reflection
As Black History Month comes to a close, I take a moment to reflect. To reflect on all the hell Corporate America put me through over the years as an African-American. I was either too dark-skinned, too ethnic, too opinionated, too in-your-face, too white (can you believe that one???) to this or too that to fully achieve the kind of success my ancestors fought and died for.
My experience in Corporate America was very much like being enslaved. They worked me to death and could never find it in their hearts to give me a break every now and then.
For example, even though I was the only single parent in my department at the time I was given the worst shift. They set my daughter up to fail by not allowing me to be home when she arrived home from school so I could help her with her homework and keep her grounded. Despite my numerous requests to get a shift change I was always told they would consider it but of course, they never did. Instead, they kept a white man in the "primary position" who always complained and nobody liked. In another case, I was the employee in the department with the MOST experience but when it came time for a promotion, they gave it to a less qualified, younger white woman. Why? I'll let you draw your own conclusions.
There was one manager who had the nerve to tell me I wanted him to show me favoritism because of my race when I questioned why I wasn't informed about a story change. Now, to me, that's just called keeping everybody informed and common courtesy. I guess in the end it all balanced out because they had to deal with me and MENOPAUSE---and believe me, it was no fun for them.
But as Martin Luther King, Jr. so eloquently put it: "Free at last, free at last....Thank God Almighty, I'm free at last!" March 2006 was my my last month in Corporate America saying "Yessuh...Nawsuh..." These days if I fail, I have no one to blame but MYSELF.
I do thank my forefathers and mothers, known and unknown, who paved the way for me to achieve the success I have today. But I am a little sad that they had to go through so much and we're still catching hell!
They take my kindness for weakness.
They take my silence for speechless.
They consider my uniqueness strange.
They call my language slang.
They see my confidence as conceit.
They see my mistakes as defeat.
They consider my success accidental.
They minimize my intelligence to "potential".
My questions mean "I'm unaware".
My advancement is somehow unfair.
Any praise is preferential treatment.
To voice concern is discontentment.
If I stand up for myself, I'm too defensive.
If I don't trust them, I'm too apprehensive.
I'm defiant if I separate.
I'm fake if I assimilate.
Yet, constantly I am faced with work place hate.
My character is constantly under attack.
Pride for my race makes me, "TOO BLACK".
Yet, I can only be me. And, who am I you might ask?
I am that Strong Black Person...
Who stands on the backs of my ancestor's achievements, with an
erect spine pointing to the stars with pride, dignity and respect
which lets the work place in America know, that I not only possess
the ability to play by the rules, but I can make them as well!
Black History 365
http://babyboomerbev.podOmatic.com/entry/2007-02-28T15_21_12-08_00
My experience in Corporate America was very much like being enslaved. They worked me to death and could never find it in their hearts to give me a break every now and then.
For example, even though I was the only single parent in my department at the time I was given the worst shift. They set my daughter up to fail by not allowing me to be home when she arrived home from school so I could help her with her homework and keep her grounded. Despite my numerous requests to get a shift change I was always told they would consider it but of course, they never did. Instead, they kept a white man in the "primary position" who always complained and nobody liked. In another case, I was the employee in the department with the MOST experience but when it came time for a promotion, they gave it to a less qualified, younger white woman. Why? I'll let you draw your own conclusions.
There was one manager who had the nerve to tell me I wanted him to show me favoritism because of my race when I questioned why I wasn't informed about a story change. Now, to me, that's just called keeping everybody informed and common courtesy. I guess in the end it all balanced out because they had to deal with me and MENOPAUSE---and believe me, it was no fun for them.
But as Martin Luther King, Jr. so eloquently put it: "Free at last, free at last....Thank God Almighty, I'm free at last!" March 2006 was my my last month in Corporate America saying "Yessuh...Nawsuh..." These days if I fail, I have no one to blame but MYSELF.
I do thank my forefathers and mothers, known and unknown, who paved the way for me to achieve the success I have today. But I am a little sad that they had to go through so much and we're still catching hell!
They take my kindness for weakness.
They take my silence for speechless.
They consider my uniqueness strange.
They call my language slang.
They see my confidence as conceit.
They see my mistakes as defeat.
They consider my success accidental.
They minimize my intelligence to "potential".
My questions mean "I'm unaware".
My advancement is somehow unfair.
Any praise is preferential treatment.
To voice concern is discontentment.
If I stand up for myself, I'm too defensive.
If I don't trust them, I'm too apprehensive.
I'm defiant if I separate.
I'm fake if I assimilate.
Yet, constantly I am faced with work place hate.
My character is constantly under attack.
Pride for my race makes me, "TOO BLACK".
Yet, I can only be me. And, who am I you might ask?
I am that Strong Black Person...
Who stands on the backs of my ancestor's achievements, with an
erect spine pointing to the stars with pride, dignity and respect
which lets the work place in America know, that I not only possess
the ability to play by the rules, but I can make them as well!
Black History 365
http://babyboomerbev.podOmatic.com/entry/2007-02-28T15_21_12-08_00
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