Before today, I hadn't seen my regular family doctor for over a year. At that point, I had taken enough of his crap. The worst part is that it came from a place of ignorance. I think if I was a thin person he would treat me better, but who knows. I still remember going in to see him that last visit well over a year ago when he did what he usually does, and not take me seriously. Everything with him was about losing weight. I swear I could come into his office bleeding out the eyes and he would still tell me I need to lose weight. His usual weight loss song was coupled with a very uneducated take on my chronic illness - fibromyalgia. He told me that it was nothing but a few little aches and pains every now and then. Well, if "every now and then" meant 24/7, he would have been absolutely correct. And there is so much more to fibro - over 100 symptoms. I could hardly believe what he had just said. And while I sat there with my mouth gaping open, he quickly ended the appointment and hid away in his office until after I left. I flew out of there like a bat out of hell, determined never to go back.
Yet a year later, here I was. Sitting on the same exam table, waiting to see him. He came in the room and looked at my bloated body sitting on the exam table with a mixture of hatred and disgust. I almost walked out right then. But I am stubborn to a fault most times so I stayed. It was just this side of excruciating. I did confront him about why I hadn't been there in over a year. He didn't dispute my claim that he would give me better care if I were a thin person. Nor did he dispute the fact that he reduced fibromyalgia to "a few little aches and pains here and there". However he did offer to pawn me off to a rheumatology clinic to increase my chances of getting decent medical care for the one thing that affects me every day of my life. I can see him when I have a cold or something else that's passing. I can't wait to see how he makes that about my weight.
So here I am at home, having a drink. I like to call it "whiskey with some pop in it". At least I accomplished something today. Even though I had to see some jerk with a medical degree to do it.
Yet a year later, here I was. Sitting on the same exam table, waiting to see him. He came in the room and looked at my bloated body sitting on the exam table with a mixture of hatred and disgust. I almost walked out right then. But I am stubborn to a fault most times so I stayed. It was just this side of excruciating. I did confront him about why I hadn't been there in over a year. He didn't dispute my claim that he would give me better care if I were a thin person. Nor did he dispute the fact that he reduced fibromyalgia to "a few little aches and pains here and there". However he did offer to pawn me off to a rheumatology clinic to increase my chances of getting decent medical care for the one thing that affects me every day of my life. I can see him when I have a cold or something else that's passing. I can't wait to see how he makes that about my weight.
So here I am at home, having a drink. I like to call it "whiskey with some pop in it". At least I accomplished something today. Even though I had to see some jerk with a medical degree to do it.
