More on the Doctor – Skewed Perceptions

A part of the whole “self acceptance” journey I’ve started on has been trying to see myself (accurately) through not only my eyes, but through others’. I’ve been trying to see myself as a worker, a helper, a friend – not just the fat woman taking up space. What have I realized? I’ve realized (maybe I’ve actually always known this, but its just become apparent) that I’m so afraid of other people’s judgements that I make the judgements for them! Yay for projection! Not only do I judge others by judging myself for them (did ya follow that one?), I judge others, just as they do, as being a friend or enemy based upon some arbitrary factor.

Take this doctor visit I had. Now, I got screwed out of my first appointment at the last moment. They told me two days at first, but confirmed one of them. I was planning on calling closer to the appointment and confirming the date again, but then I got a voicemail reminding me of my appointment that had the correct date. Both dates the time was supposed to be at 10:45 AM. So, the morning of the appointment I set out and drive the 20 miles to get there, and I end up fighting through weird traffic trying to find the place. I find the correct road and I call the office to get some landmarks to look for close to the office…and they tell me that my appointment had already been given up as they have a 20 minute window and my appointment was at 10:15. Ummm…what? I have a voicemail from your office that clearly says 10:45. But ok, fine, whatever. THEN they tell me that the doctor I wanted to see was going to be out for the next week and the only other doctor I could see was her replacement. I didn’t really want to wait another week for fear that I’d lose my nerve altogether, so I took the next appointment.

So the next day I drive 40 more miles in total to see someone that I could not find on Google to save my life. I grab all of the new patient paperwork and head into the waiting room to fill it out. The first thing I noticed was that all of the chairs had arms. I hate chairs with arms…I fit, but with no extra room most of the time. Anyway, I sucked it up, filled out the paperwork, and waited for my appointment. About an hour later (grrrrrr…) a bubbly and plump nurse came out to get me. Up first? The scale. I haven’t been weighed since my last doctor’s visit some 6 years ago. I could take a guess at how much I weighed after reading about other people with similar shapes/heights, but I didn’t know for sure. I debated over whether or not I would step on the scale or if I would ask to skip it. I decided to go for it, to see what I actually do weigh. I actually talked to myself on the way up saying “OK MC, other people with your height and your sizes weigh around 330 – 350. Don’t be surprised if that’s what the number says. Its just a number.”

338. On a scale that goes up to 350. Surprisingly this isn’t bothering me. I can’t say that I’d ever admit this to anyone around me, not yet at least, but I’m admitting it online! What was great? No comment from the nurse. No smirk, no laugh, nothing – just a notation on the chart and it was followed with “Ok, now we’re going to get your height…”

We went into the exam room and she started asking questions about the medical histories of my families. I gave her what I could, cracked a couple of jokes to make myself more comfortable, had my vitals checked. My blood pressure was up. Oh joy…let’s see, I have a stressful job, I was nervous as hell about being at the doctor…no, no problems with it before. Still no anti-fat comments, she just made another note. She even asked why I drove 20+ miles to come to this office – to which I replied that I had read/heard that the doctor I had originally wanted to see was excellent, and that it was really important to me to see a female physician.

The wait for that female physician wasn’t too long/bad. While waiting I grabbed some brochures about diabetes off the wall since that was one of the possibilities I had been considering. Diabetes and PCOS (or, God forbid, both) would both explain a lot of my problems… The door opened and in walked this…stick…of a woman.

See? I judge based upon looks too! That was the first thing I thought when she walked in. “Oh great, look at her, she’s probably 5’9 and a size 2. She’ll never be understanding, she’ll just want me to lose weight and attribute everything to me being a fat ass.” Well, I am happy to report that I was wrong. She didn’t mention my weight at all at first, and when she did it wasn’t in the “YOU MUST LOSE TEH FATZ” way, it was in the “Ok, you’ve told me you normally eat once a day, maybe with a couple of snacks depending on your schedule. We need to work on that, especially if you do have diabetes/PCOS/whatever. You’ve also told me you don’t exercise much, if any, and you have a desk job. Let’s fix the problem you have now – because it’s causing you pain – and then we’ll see if we can get you eating better and exercising to combat the fatigue and some of the other issues you’ve mentioned.” kinda way.

So basically I learned my weight, showed a random person my fat AND the most embarassing parts of me that cause me endless emotional pain, and talked about getting healthy. Surprisingly I left NOT wanting to drink myself into a coma. I made it through unscathed, not afraid of going back, and with a prescription for an antibiotic to help with the skin issue. I also scheduled a fasting blood test, which will test thyroid levels, blood sugar, all the fun stuff. I went back for the blood test, but I haven’t heard the results yet.

I judged the doctor based on her appearance and was completely wrong. She actually treated my “issue” first, without just pressing weightloss as the answer. I walked out of the office with my head up instead of down. Who knows what this doctor could have been thinking – perhaps she’s anti-fat or neutral on the situation, or maybe she’s even size-positive. All I know is that I was wrong in judging her based on her slim figure – and that’s interesting to me. This size/self acceptance problem seems to be more deeply rooted than I first thought.

Oh, and the skin issue has improved TREMENDOUSLY! I know I can’t stay on the antibiotic forever, but maybe, just maybe this can all be fixed.

I’m Sucking it Up (Not In) and Going to the Doctor!

Yay! I’m a statistic, (lovingly ganked from Kate Harding’s Reality Check: Why Don’t Fat Women Get Checked for Cancer of the Nasty Bits) part of the countless number of women who avoid going to the doctor for fear of being treated badly. I figure – the world treats me badly enough being fat, being a woman, and OMG being a FAT WOMAN why should I expect anything different from a doctor. A doctor, being one person aside from myself that should be concerned with my health. Yet still, here I sit mentally ticking off all of the “issues” I have that I’d like to get checked out and not actually going to get them checked out.

So, why is it that Maiden Convex hasn’t been to a doctor in 6 years? Well, her last one made her angry. The last time I went to the doctor was when I was in 12th grade. I had worked myself up to going and getting something to help with my moods/depression/wanting to crawl into a hole and disappear desires. The kind doctor started me on Zoloft and told me to come back in a couple of weeks. So, I did. No change, and he upped the doseage. A few weeks later, same story. Then I went in, already feeling like a failure for it not working, and broke the news to him. He then went on a tirade about how people are too whiny and they need to just learn how to grow up and stop relying on medication to solve problems. How drugs are now the easy way out, and everyone thinks they should just get pills instead of dealing with their issues.

Maybe that’s true…but maybe those people need the pills TO work on their issues. I believe that any medication for a mood disorder should be coupled with therapy and that you’ll get your best results from doing both. But, there again…maybe I can pull myself out of my funk myself with some form of anti-depressant.

Anyway, the problem was that my parents picked my doctor based on location and insurance. Now that I have my own location, my own transportation, and my own insurance – I should have my own team of doctors. There have been so many things that I’ve “had” that probably could have “fixed themselves” better had I visited a doctor. I never went though, because that involved finding someone. And, well, I didn’t want to find someone because I have convinced myself that when I do go to someone my blood pressure will be off the charts, I’ll probably have some fatal form of something, and I’ll basically be told that I need to lose 100+ pounds or I’ll die the minute I set foot outside the door.

Well, fuck that. I’ve been dealing with a quite embarrassing (and horribly painful) condition for a good 2 years now. Wanna know what it is? I get horrible ass boil like places all over…mainly on my upper, inner thighs. TMI? Sorry…it gets worse. So, I have these fuckers and they are PAINFUL. I can’t sit, walk, etc without feeling like someone is stabbing me. I have tried everything I can to get rid of them…I shower 2x a day with antibacterial soaps, I use tea tree oil, I wear loose clothing, etc. They just keep coming back. AND – when the worst ones leave they leave horrible purple-y scars.

I’ve researched, asked questions – all that fun stuff. Everything short of going to a doctor. I found that similar ailments are common with diabetes and PCOS. I think its about time to get this checked out, even if its more out of vanity and pain than concern for my actual health.

So, this spurs the latest search for a doctor. The search then spurs a feminist desire to have a female doctor…for one thing I am *hoping* I’ll be more able to stand up for myself in front of a woman if they start talking about everything is because of my weight etc. The other? Well, damn it, I just want to go to a sister! So, I searched my insurance for female general/family practitioners in my city. NOT A ONE! No one! Every recommendation I received was for a male. One of my female colleagues even suggested I go see this one doctor because he has this “weight-loss plan” that she’s on. Of course her just randomly assuming my only problem was my weight pissed me off, but whatever.

[Side note on this: one of the aspects of her job is to walk the campus and the buildings. So, when everyone learns that she has lost 30 pounds etc we all assumed that it was because she had been increasing her exercise levels walking around the place. So, I was proud and thought to myself "Damn, she's awesome - she's getting healthier (and by healthier I mean she was increasing her endurance and strength) by walking and has the added benefit of shedding some pounds." THAT is how I feel it should be done...you go for health and whatever else is supposed to happen will happen. But, no, she tells me that its not the walking...its that this doctor has this "plan" where you basically go in and ask for the happy meal, pay in cash, and he'll prescribe you phentermine. WTF?]

Those recommendations and the lack of GPs in my area? Yeah, I’ll go elsewhere – I don’t care if I have to drive to Bumfuck, Egypt – I am going to a female practitioner. 20 miles away I find some…and you know what? I couldn’t decide, but I narrowed it down to two groups. A google search resulted in pictures…

I hate to say that I am picking my doctor based on a picture because then I’m no better than other people who discriminate (I guess we all struggle…), but when I clicked on the name and a fat, young, smart looking face appeared on the screen? Yep – I’m setting my appointment up tomorrow!