Women's Health Conference

For some reason, I was only scheduled for one call day last week as opposed to my usual two. I noticed the extra blank space in my appointment book a couple of weeks ago and got this relief/ecstatic/criminal feeling in my body and my mind kept jumping back and forth between thoughts of, “Should I tell someone about the mistake?” to “Yes yes yes. There is no way I am not getting away with this extra day of escape from the hospital.” But then, I got an email announcing that some administrative person from my organization was going to be manning a table at a women’s health conference and she would just love it if someone else could be there with her to represent our women’s health services. In all honesty, I have to say, I was genuinely interested in this. It was a conference as opposed to a day “on” so, though I would be glad-handing a bit, I wouldn’t be responsible for anyone’s life, plus there might actually be some good info to glean about women’s health AND, most importantly (see my last entry) there would be free breakfast and lunch and coffee all day (stated clearly in the conference program that was sent along electronically with the administrator’s email.) Long story short: I said I’d do it and started thinking about what professional-casual outfit I might wear for the day…

I arrived at the conference a little late. The woman from my organization who was in charge of the table said her plan was to get there (I mean, there and ready to go and work and talk to people and be normal) at 7am. Now, when I read that, I thought, does there really need to be 2 of us putting little pamphlets and pens out on the table at 7am? Why not bring in fresh legs at around 8 or so? She never really told me when I should get there. Just mentioned what her own plans were going to be. I rolled into the hotel function room a little before 8, and let me state for the record, I decided to take the bus and it ended up either picking up or dropping off someone at every single stop. Plus, the driver gave me bad information about where to get off downtown and I ended up having to back track on foot (in a pretty mighty wind!) to get to my destination. So, I probably would have gotten there earlier if it hadn’t been for all those…situations.

Thankfully, I didn’t stop for coffee cause when I finally did arrive there was an enormous spread of starbucks coffee and pastries and bagels and all sorts of fresh juices in glass bottles stuck into buckets of ice. Had there been some lox there to go with my toasted bagel, well, the day may have turned out better.

Let me set the scene for you. This is a day-long women’s health conference with various speakers and MCs throughout the day. Women (and 1 or 2 men) have signed up for this conference, paid a fee to register, received a bag full of goodies like coupons for health clubs and travel first-aid kits and are set free to roam in a moderately sized function room with about 20 tables, each advertising a specific sleep aid or cholesterol lowering drug or boasting the attributes of a near-by mammogram screening facility etc etc. Our table had a bunch of info on our own services, specifically women’s health and midwifery related materials. The woman I was working with seemed indifferent about my being there. She barely said hello to me and definitely did not give me any directions as to what she wanted me to tell these women, the plan for the day, etc…So, I grabbed a bagel and coffee and started smiling at passersby.

The first woman I spoke with was something called a “Well Coach”. And I quickly learned that this is currently a VERY popular profession. As I kept talking with people it became clear that probably a third of the participants here were these “well coaches”. Stationed at medical centers, health clubs, resorts, or working privately they seem to be a nutritionist, a trainer and a psychologist all rolled into one. Which sort of sounds good…on paper. But it was kind of like all those people in customer service jobs who are just mean, bad communicators that make you hang up the phone and think, “Now why would that person ever want a job where they had to “service” people when they so obviously hate the species??” Similarly, many of the “well coaches” I spoke with seemed distrustful and invasive. One of them kept pushing me on some sort of wellness system she had created and that she was trying to sell to various organizations so that they could promote it to their patients. I didn’t really get what it was, plus her services aren’t covered by insurance so I can’t see that many of my patients would be interested in her “system” anyway. But I tried to give her some kind of lead.

“Well, I hear we actually just hired a wellness coach at our facilities (I overheard the admin person I was with saying this to someone else). Maybe you should speak with her about getting the word out.”

“Actually,” the Well coach said, “That is the last person I should speak with. She’d probably just take a look at the system I’ve created and say something like, ‘Wow this is great, wish I’d thought of it. I don’t know what to tell you.’ So, I don’t think that’s a great idea.”

Her response stunned me into passing her off to my right hand woman from administration. Bitch. I thought. And took another bite of my bagel. Moving on…

The participants roamed the hallway of tables until a hotel staff member (I kid you not) comes around banging on a soft but clear sounding xylophone alerting everyone that the lectures were about to begin. Everyone slowly leaves the room and takes a seat at the larger but still windowless assembly hall for 3-4 hours of power point presentations. And this was when things started to pick up downhill speed.
It is amazing how easily a women’s health conference can become a trite collection of analogies about “being present” and finding a way, in this 21^st century world, to happily balance life and kids and husband and work and pleasure. I immediately got the feeling that the population the speakers were targeting were the 50-something women who were concerned about heart health and titillated by this new funky idea of “being present”. From the outset, sitting in the very back of the room I could see an ocean of bleached, permed heads aggressively nodding in agreement with the speaker as she talked about watching her golden retriever chase birds on the beach for 45 minutes straight without tiring because he was totally and completely “in the present”. I hoped there was a barf bag in that collection of goodies all these women got when they registered cause I think I might need them all.

Someone spoke about aging gracefully, someone spoke about heart disease, someone spoke about sexual assault (after which I overheard a participant say “That was boring. I had to get out of there and come back to the tables”).

It was disappointing but I have to say, I agreed with her. I had to take a breather back at the tables a few times. I filled up my coffee cup, I drank some water, a visited the ladies room for a change of scenery. I even called my father to say hi. Any way to escape. My father, who has been an insurance salesman for over 30 years has been to a bunch of conferences about, selling life insurance I guess, in his career and his response when I told him where I was, went something like this. “Oh god. I hate those things. I used to go at the beginning of my career, thought I’d learn something, had a lot of energy to get out there, meet people. They were always so boring. I felt like I was in prison. It was hell. There was nothing worse-”

“Okay, dad-Thanks. I got it from here. Already feeling bad about being here. Thanks for the empathy, though.”

I went back into the lecture hall as the presenter was sharing stories about her family’s yearly windsurfing vacation. She was telling us how one of the most fun things to do is get on her board, catch the wind, straighten her legs and lean way back. This, apparently, makes her and her husband and her three beautiful children fly through the ocean at top speed. And it is very fun. But, there was one day when the waters were rougher than expected. And, try as she might, she just could not get her legs to straighten without losing her balance and toppling over. Again and again and again. She spoke with her husband (who is an excellent windsurfer”) about her struggles and he said this:

“When you’re riding in the chop, you have to bend your knees.” Make it stop. I wanted to say. Make her stop. But she would not. She continued.

“I looked at my husband and thought, my god, what an amazing analogy for life. When life is hard (ie when you are riding in the chop) you have to stay flexible, bend your knees, ride the waves, and you won’t get thrown off balance.” I grabbed my own goodie bag and looked for anything to regurgitate my lunch into. (Which really would have been a shame because lunch was actually the one shining moment of the day. A lovely sit down meal with fresh rolls and grilled chicken and some sort of cheesy risotto situation.) I stepped out of the room to catch my breath, went to the bathroom, and tried to concoct a way to leave early…

I made it until 2pm which I think was admirable since the thing only went until 3:30. I was sitting, “listening” to a presenter with my elbows on my knees, head in my hands, thinking of my father who thought these “educational” conferences were like jail (probably the best analogy anyone made all day) when the woman at the podium leans towards us and says into the microphone in a determined voice just over a whisper:

“Listen, the truth is, no one can start over, but you can start today and make a new ending…” Applause erupted from the audience. So, so true, I thought. I can make a new ending. Starting today, never agree to volunteer at a women’s health conference, regardless of how good the menu is …

I turned to the admin women: “How would you feel if I left now?” I asked.

“That’s fine.” She said indifferently. “You can leave whenever.”

I packed my bags, took the escalator to the ground floor and walked out into the sun. A free woman.