When a patient’s story turns to misdiagnosis, I find myself asking an uncomfortable question: was I ever part of the problem? Did I deny or downplay what my body was trying to tell me? I want the answer to be no. But if I’m honest, there were moments when it wasn’t.

As a young woman, I lived in that quiet space of dismissal. I felt faint climbing trees, weak on hikes, disoriented after giving blood. Tennis left me flushed, wheezing, and short of breath. Each symptom nudged me with the same question: Is something wrong? Should I get this checked out? But almost instinctively, I would look around and compare myself to others with heart disease who seemed far worse off—and decide I didn’t qualify as “sick enough” to worry.

It’s a common reflex. When we feel uncertain, we search for reassurance, and one of the quickest ways is to compare ourselves to what we believe we should feel or should look like to warrant getting symptoms checked out. I’m not as bad as they are, so I must be fine.

It soothes the moment, quiets the internal alarm. But that relief can be misleading. It can keep us from acting on symptoms that deserve attention, especially in the early stages of chronic illness, when signs are subtle, inconsistent, and easy to rationalize away.

Looking back, I realize that comparison didn’t protect me—it delayed me. It kept me in a holding pattern while something real was brewing beneath the surface. These days, I return to a much simpler rule, one that cuts through the noise: when you see something, say something. Your body doesn’t need to compete for credibility.

If something feels off, that alone is reason enough to listen—and to speak up.