Author Archives: wisconsiniteyooper

So, hey, this is a blog about medical self-advocacy, neurodivergence, and trauma stuff, but the name doesn’t match up… You’re over there scratching your head so I will fill you in on “why.”

Many people know what a Wisconsinite is but “Yooper” – well, that’s a term unknown to most. A Yooper lives in the UP: The Upper Peninsula of Michigan—Wisconsin’s unwanted neighbor. 

A Yooper speaks similarly to Canadians on the Red Green TV show, eats pasties, and has a steady diet of venison to go with WI beer and cheese curds. Buried in thick national forests and snow-covered for nearly 9 months a year, it makes sense that the region is populated mostly by Indigenous Tribes, Finns, and Swedes. You have to be pretty resourceful and resilient up there!

Into this Midwestern gem, I was born. I spent my early years in Northern Wisconsin on Chequamegon Bay and moved to the UP halfway through my childhood. I found my way back to my WI roots to raise a family but the Yooper is a foundational part of my being. I mean, trudging through several feet of snow in negative degree temps to deliver newspapers while icicles form on your eyelashes IS going to make you a stronger person!

The beautiful parts of my childhood include swimming in the vast, chilly Lake Superior with horse flies targeting any skin left above water, iron ore-stained shoes and bell bottoms, waving to everyone who walked or drove past, and mischief with my sisters. 

But living that isolated brings challenges. Bars are as numerous as churches. People commute long distances for higher-paying jobs. Under-employment is rampant. Abandoned houses become meth operations. Social services are poorly funded. Specialty health care is often months out & a 2+ hour drive one way so—heaven forbid—you finally snag an appointment and a snowpocalypse hits… You do NOT cancel!

From these hardships, Yoopers honed stubborn determination and self-reliance. You’re on your own for most things due in large part to the economic depression as logging and mining dwindle. UP communities are creative and everyone does what they are able. For example, when I lived in Ewen, MI, the volunteer first responder was a disabled man with a bicycle and a reflective vest. He kept people safe from downed power lines and did basic first aid until an ambulance arrived from an hour away.

So now you know what a Yooper is. But maybe you’re still asking why I chose this obscure name for the blog. Well, it’s because growing up here with this collection of experiences molded me into the person I am now. Obviously, my neurodivergent brain and perception impacted that, too, but I can’t see myself being the same wife, mother, friend, or advocate without the direct influence of life in Northern Wisconsin and the Upper Peninsula. 

Say ya to da UP, eh!

My cousin, Coty, gave me the best advice when I was starting this scary venture of helping others with their trauma triggers and medical advocacy and he was beginning a new one of his own. His advice is in my head every time I am being referred to a new specialist or looking for one on my own. He told me this:

“Anyone who answers a smart question with a dumb answer isn’t my customer.”

Insert “provider” for the word “customer” and: wow! That is a game changer with energy use, expectations and moving forward with a plan of care. Whether you have chronic or rare illnesses or more common medical concerns, remember this advice. If you encounter a provider that you don’t feel totally comfortable with, you are unsure of their expertise in meeting your medical and/or emotional needs when it comes to your care, they are not the provider for you. It is as simple as that!

Now, I acknowledge that FINDING a provider in the first place that takes your insurance, knowledgeable about your condition and is in an accessible location is sometimes nearly impossible. That is another blog entirely, but for the times you are not facing these challenges, fire the provider and move on.

My lovely friend, Raheeq, was the first person to ever teach me about standing up for my needs in the doctor’s office. She was from Kuwait and she told my husband and I that she didn’t understand why Americans didn’t fire their doctors. “Americans put up with too much from doctors. They are providing a service to the patient and the patient has more control than they realize.”

Those powerful words prompted me to go on an emotional journey to find an OBGYN that was not fat biased and willing to investigate why I was having miscarriages. It was not an easy journey emotionally. One doctor even fired me as a patient—which was a valuable lesson in compatibility in itself. The outcome of a long story is 2 gorgeous kiddos and connecting with amazing providers who actually asked me to share my self-advocacy experience at a medical convention about 6 weeks after I gave birth!

Not every doctor is the right doctor for your situation. If you don’t have confidence in them, exercise your power to seek care elsewhere. It might be terrifying to say, “thanks but no thanks,” to a doctor—even more so if you are not sure what will happen afterwards, but trust your knowledge, intuition and respectfully decline their services. You can open doors for better care when you exercise control over who you allow to be part of your care team.

Sometimes in life we encounter hardship and trauma over and over. We develop dysregulation and coping mechanisms to protect ourselves that often push others away only furthering the hurt.

But sometimes in life, we also come across those who give of themselves and reach into our dysfunctional, pain filled lives and give us a balm to our wounds; they stitch up our bleeding wounds when we’ve given up on ourselves because we couldn’t hold the weight of the trauma and judgements any longer. They save us.

The doctors, nurses, schedulers, insurance agents, patient experience personnel and many others in the medical field that have taken the time to truly hear my pain and offer collaboration to meet my needs within the system they work have absolutely been a major part of my healing journey.

They have given of their emotions, sacrificed their time, accommodated what they could – in both big and small ways – and who have made me feel safe, respected and they’ve seen past my sometimes abrasive, anxious behavior: they are the reason I am alive. They are the drive behind my passion to help friends and family navigate the daunting medical system.

Being neurodivergent and having a very high level of trauma make even situations without power dynamics triggering. For me, my interactions are compounded by having a larger body making navigating this system more strenuous and biased.

I know for certain without the surgeons, PCPs, nurses, therapists, etc. that have invested in my wellbeing, I wouldn’t have the spoons left to re-engage with the system. I would not be able to invest hours in advocacy and research to get where I am today. I am eternally grateful for everything. They are the best parts of the medical system.

I want to share my experiences – both successes and flubs—to inspire, encourage and collaborate with those who want to be healers and activists in their own stories. We can change the system and reduce the trauma one interaction at a time.