I have a doctor now who is my general practitioner guy. I'll call him Dr. T. Dr. T. doesn't bug me about the weight and I don't lie to him. I don't say, "But I've been eating carrots and cabbage for three years straight and I haven't lost a pound." I don't say, "I don't understand since I just ran the Boston Marathon last week and I was third place." I don't say, "But I'm not really fat, I'm just big-boned." (That one always makes me laugh. Lots of people with big bones on this planet.) I don't tell him the big whoppers. He doesn't bug me about the 'W' word. We have a tacit agreement. I enjoy that.
About a week and half ago I got a head cold. (So I thought.) But it never got really bad. At least, not until about five days later and it wasn't a cold but a sinus infection. Poor HIM, I woke myself up snoring, so I know HIM wasn't sleeping peacefully either. I sounded like a freight train on crack that was crashing through a stadium full of junkies. But I hung tough. I waited. I waited. I knew that if I could just tough it out then I would get well and thus AVOID the dreaded trip to THEM, the medical professionals of DOOM. Then HIM realized I was running a fever. And I sat down one evening and volunteered, "I think I need to go to the doctor tomorrow." Naturally, HIM was concerned that I was dying since I very rarely volunteer to such psychological torture.
The next day HIM even made the appointment because he thought I might back out. (HIM cut me off at the knees in a very clever coupe detat.) Off I went. La-de-dah. The wait wasn't long. I got weighed and I hissed at the scale liberally. The nurse took my stats, jotted a note or two down, and told me Dr. T. would be in soon. A few minutes later in walks someone. Obviously she is NOT Dr. T. She is about twenty-eight years old, lily white, and as perky as Kyle the Flight Attendant. Excuse me, **KYLE** the Flight Attendant. She tells me her name although I was sick enough that I didn't really care and says she's on a student program and can she speak with me first.
Here comes the part where I start to get irritated. (As I often do, especially when I'm sick and spending time in a place that I actively dislike and get charged an extraordinary rate for it as well. Hell, I get irritated when I'm feeling good, too, but that isn't the point in this story.) "I see you're a diabetic," she says. "Do you check your blood sugar every day?"
"Borderline," I say. "Dr. T. checks it every 3-6 months."
But really, here's the part. THE PART that chaffed my ass raw. The student doc says in this sort of chipper-oh-how-can-I-not-say-it? tone of voice, "Have you tried losing weight?"
There were so many responses that whirled in my teeny tiny brain that I think I short circuited for a moment trying to figure out which one was most appropriate and wouldn't get me arrested. I briefly considered asking her at which school in South America did she do her medical training. Then I pondered asking her if she really thought I had a weight problem. (It's hard to do that with a straight face.) But what finally came out, after she obviously thought I had flaked out on her, was an irritable, "What does that have to do with a sinus infection?"
I get defensive about my weight. (That's putting it mildly.) I exercise. I try to cut back. I haven't been doing as good lately. I yoyo. I've lost as much as a 100 pounds once. I've been insulted over my weight. I'll never forget the one doctor who told me, "You know, overweight people get sick more often." So I go into the doctor's office with a chip on my shoulder. Someone should gag me before I go in and force me to write all my responses. It might work out better in the long run.
(Insert diabolical mad scientist laughter here.)) (Can I mention that I've never actually eaten one of those?)
|The Wendy's Triple Baconator|
Then Dr. T. came in and said, "Thanks for talking with the student doc," to which I responded, "No problem, except maybe the sinus infection." And of course, it was a sinus infection. I could have saved them all a lot of time and trouble if they would have just listened to me. What can I say? (That I haven't already ranted about?)