I haven’t posted for a while, but I came face-to-face with the dreaded OMG! DEATH FAT! WHY AREN’T YOU DEAD ALREADY? talk from a doctor today. A 70 year old, paternalistic, condescending, old-school, doctor-is-god doctor who was the only doctor available for me to see. Today, at any rate.
He asked me “Do you think you are overweight?” in a condescending manner. When I responded, “Yes, I’m fat”, he smirked like he had scored a point (fatties never know they are fat and need to be told, often).
He ridiculed me when I repeatedly asked for a larger blood pressure cuff (what would I know, I’m only a fat female) and ignored me when I said that the metal fastener was cutting into my arm (fatties deserve pain). He stated my blood pressure of 120/90 was “high” and was a warning that I was about to drop dead (and clearly, it had nothing to do with the too small cuff or my
stress and ANGER temporarily going through the roof).
He quoted discredited actuarial tables at me to prove that I was a walking, talking death bomb. He listed every disease on the planet from stroke to kidney disease to scare me into compliance. He told me it was for my own good. He refused to believe I am healthy. Afterall, hadn’t my blood pressure just proven him “right”?
He refused to listen to me at all.
He wrote on my medical record in CAPITAL LETTERS that he had WARNED this fatty she was going to DIE, while telling me what he was doing his duty and “No-one could say I haven’t warned you”.
I tried, really I did, but by this stage, I was just too weary and sick to convince this aging, bullying doctor that even fat women deserve respect and may not, in fact, be walking timebombs.
He finally dealt with what I had actually gone to see a doctor for in the last 2 minutes of the appointment, but even then had to have a for-my-own-good snark about my weight.
On the way out of his office he told me he was a very kind doctor, because he hadn’t insisted on weighing me. I just smiled and said, “Oh, that’s OK. I know how much I weigh, thanks”.