Gaslit in the ER

When the ER Feels Like a War Zone: A Chronic Illness Perspective

Living with a chronic illness is already a daily battle—physically, mentally, emotionally. But what happens when the very place we’re told to go for help becomes a source of deeper trauma?

For many of us, the emergency room doesn’t feel like a lifeline. It feels like a battlefield. One where we’re gaslit, dismissed, and treated more like an inconvenience than a human being in distress. If you’ve been there, you know exactly what I mean.

Why I Avoid the ER at All Costs

My own experience has left scars that run deeper than my diagnosis. I remember vividly one of my worst flare-ups. My heart rate had dropped into the low 30s. I was dizzy, barely able to function, throwing up everything I ate. Acid reflux was tearing my throat apart—it felt like lava pouring upward from my stomach. I was losing weight rapidly, and my front teeth had already started to erode from the constant acid.

By all medical standards, I should have gone to the emergency room. But I didn’t.

Why? Because I couldn’t face the trauma of walking through those doors again.

A Memory That Still Stings

I remember one time in the ER when I was transferred by ambulance from a smaller hospital to a larger, well-known facility—two hours away—because of how serious my condition appeared. After sitting there for over six hours without being seen, I was finally approached by a doctor who completely dismissed me.

I was told nothing was wrong and that I was going to be sent home. No answers. No compassion. Just cold detachment.

When I managed to speak with another doctor alone, I voiced my deep frustration. I told him how disrespected I felt—how the first doctor spoke to me as if I were wasting everyone’s time, making me feel stupid for even being there. I asked him, why would the other hospital rush me to this one by ambulance if it were “nothing”?

That second doctor went and spoke with her. She eventually returned to speak with me—not to apologize, mind you—but to say something that still stings to this day: “If you think you need to be in the hospital, we’ll admit you.”

Can you imagine? Being made to feel like I was begging for care, like I was manipulating the system just to be admitted. Talk about guilt-tripping a patient in crisis.

It’s Not Just Physical—It’s Emotional

These kinds of experiences create lasting trauma. The ER is supposed to be a place of urgent care. But when you live with a chronic illness, it often becomes a place of emotional harm. You’re left feeling invisible, brushed aside, and emotionally bruised.

You stop feeling like a person in need. You start feeling like a problem to be pushed out the door.

The System Isn’t Just Broken—It’s Starving

I understand that hospitals are understaffed. Nurses and doctors are burned out. But the issue goes deeper than that.

Hospitals don’t want to spend the money. It’s not just about a staffing shortage—it’s about budgets, bureaucracy, and priorities. And patients like me end up paying the price, not just in dollars, but in pain, fear, and trauma.

“It’s not in the budget.”
But what about the cost to our lives?

So What Do We Do?

We speak out. We share our stories. We raise our voices until the system hears us. Because no one—especially someone already suffering—should be made to feel like they don’t deserve care.

This isn’t just my story. It’s our story. For every person with an invisible illness who has ever left the ER in tears, feeling worse than when they arrived—you’re not alone.

You are worthy of care. You are worthy of compassion. And you are definitely not crazy for advocating for yourself.