came in with tonsillitis, left with a complex

This is not my San Francisco photo dump, but it’s coming, I promise. I had something else to get off my chest first.

Before I left for California, I started to not feel so great. I went to the Urgent Care Center and was given Z-Pack. Easy peasy. In California, it was colder than I had anticipated and I didn’t pack well at all, which probably didn’t help much. When I got home, I was feeling really lousy. My ears were clogged again from the plane, my throat was a mess, I was coughing, the whole nine.

I called my doctor and was told he was booked for the day but the nurse practitioner was available. Great! Sign me up! I hadn’t been to the doctor (minus a few urgent care quickie visits) in a while so I was considered a new patient. Especially since my doctor has moved offices a few times so some records were unavailable.

I quickly got ready and made my way over to the office. I filled out my paperwork and waited to be called. The NP called me in and she started her exam. All was well until…

PAUSE

Let me just say, I 100% understand that she had to ask these questions because I was considered new. Even if the doctor had my records from God knows when the last time I went to him, I had never seen her before and I wouldn’t expect him to remember every detail of my medical life. I get that she was trying to make up a history for me. Also, she was trying to rule out some illnesses that I may be harboring. No big deal.

EXCEPT

She then told me she was going to take my blood pressure. Sure, no problem. I rolled up my sleeve, she cuffed me and started pumping. She took the reading, uncuffed me and said,

Your blood pressure isn’t high… yet.

It took me a minute to realize what she was saying. And then I was like:

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First of all, in all of my almost 30 years, my blood pressure has never ever been an issue. NEVAH, EVAH. And to imply that because I’m fat my blood pressure has no shot of being normal is a bit ridiculous. Of course, I’m confused and a little mortified so all I could manage was a head shake (like a dope.).

Then she asked me if I wanted to get weighed. I said, “well, before I left for California, my weight was ______.” She asked if that was where I usually was weight wise and I said yes, pretty much. Then she asked again if I was sure I didn’t want to get weighed. Jokingly, I said, “nah, why make myself feel more miserable than I already do?” So she walked over to the computer and said, “I’m about to make you really miserable than” (or something, I was checking out by then) and she pulled up a BMI chart.

Now, let me tell you about my BMI. I am 100% mortified by it. It’s waaaaayyyy too high, just like my weight. I know BMI is important in health and weight loss and all of that, but I just don’t like dealing with it and knowing it and all. BECAUSE I’M AN ADULT.

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So, the BMI chart is on the screen in screaming color, I’m 90% checked out, and all I want is a prescription and to leave. Then she hits me with,

You know, if your insurance changes, I can give you a pill to jump start weight loss. But wait until your insurance changes so you don’t have to pay for it.

I’ll admit, for about .70358 seconds, I was intrigued. I quickly realized she was talking about Contrave, which is something I considered, but ultimately decided against. Then I thought:

THE ONLY PILLS I WANT RIGHT NOW ARE ANTIBIOTICS SO THAT MY THROAT DOESN’T FEEL LIKE THE TUNNEL TO HELL. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD.

I said, “Are you talking about Contrave?” She responds, “Yea, or the other one that I can’t remember the name of. (me: *hard side eye*) I said, “Oh, ok. We’ll see.” Then, and this is the final dig, believe it or not – she says to me, “Yea, I gave it to my niece who was crying about gaining 60 pounds of baby weight. She’s been on it for 6 months (this is normal for a drug like this.it’s not a rest of your life kind of thing.) and now I told her she needs to come off. Now she needs to stop eating.” This was as I was getting ready to leave and she was filling out paperwork for me to get some blood drawn. How about this – check the box that requests a T3-T4 test and make sure my thyroid is in good working order. (I’m sure it is, but it can make the body go wonky if it isn’t). Or, just put the robes away, Judge Judy, and let me leave the room.

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My point is that as a medical professional, you should know that eating is not the only way to gain weight/be fat. Do I love food? YES. Do I have issues with food? YES. Is it your business, especially when I’m coming to you with a sore throat? NOPE. Listen, I appreciate the concern. I really do, more so because I’ve thought about those “wonder pills” before. But could/should she could have simply said something like when you’re feeling better, come back, we’ll go over your blood work and we can talk about your options then? YAAASSS.

I’ve considered it all. Lapband, gastric sleeve, bypass, the balloons, Contrave – all of it. Honestly, they scare me. First of all, surgery. Second, what if I can’t hack it? Believe it or not, they’re very easy to sabotage. Also, the fact that I know how to sabotage them already should speak volumes. Fortunately, Weight Watchers/ diet and exercise work for me. Unfortunately, I’m lazy. That’s the bottom line. You know how I know? Well, because I know myself, but also, in San Francisco, we walked up and down very steep hills and I lived. Barely, but I lived. One of the days my phone told me I walked over 25,000 steps. WHAT??!! A fat slob like me walked that much and my ticker didn’t blow? ya don’t say. I’ve never walked that much at home. I probably never will. I came close once, at like 21,000 steps but it was once and it was probably when I went Christmas shopping. The fact is, I am capable of doing it, I just don’t. I’m not proud of that either.

My feet are temperamental and it makes it very hard to strap some sneakers on and go for a walk or run. Excuse? Fine. But that’s how it is. When you can only walk about 20 minutes before you are nauseous from the pain in your feet, then you can come to me and tell me it’s an excuse. When every pair of shoes rub your feet and make blisters, then you can tell me it’s an excuse. When it takes you 2 days to recover from wearing the “wrong” shoes or from walking “too much (like going Christmas shopping) then you can tell me it’s an excuse. When you have to plan almost down to the last step and constantly have to keep your feet in mind because you forget they suck because you are otherwise young and healthy and should have no issue walking for long periods of time, then you can tell me it’s an excuse.

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I’ve gotten off topic. The bottom line is that just because I’m fat, doesn’t mean I’m unhealthy. Just because I’m fat doesn’t mean I’m unhappy (I mean, I would probably sell my mother down the river to wake up a size 6 tomorrow. sorry ma!) I think because I’ve only heard/read about fat obsessed doctors and never experienced one, this is bothering me more than it should. Like I’ve said, I totally get that she was taking a history and that she’s looking at it as a nip it in the bud type thing. I just feel like it was a little uncalled for.

I went in with tonsillitis and came out with a complex.

Ok, next post *should be* a San Francisco photo dump. *big smile emoji*

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