Dr. Who?

Something to consider:

Lack of medical insurance does not equate to being a societal degenerate.

Being overweight does not always equate to the inability to putting the fork down.

As many of you know, I have been trying to turn my life around to more of a healthy living way of life.  I had lost 22 pounds and then hit a brick wall almost as quickly as I started losing weight.  Then I started walking, dancing, cutting out sugar, carbs, soda, etc. and nothing…Then more nothing…followed by nothing…and then….yup….you guessed it…nothing.  Then I quit smoking on Easter….then something…a couple pounds  but still maintaining.  I was so frustrated with the lack of results.  I was told it could be a gluten intolerance thing, so I figured I would try that and see what happens.  My cousin mentioned that I might have PCOS which stands for Poly Cystic Ovarian Syndrome.  I started looking into it and I was fitting every symptom on it.  People thought I was crazy so I let it go and tried being gluten free.

Then the pain started…

I started getting intense pain in the area of my ovaries.  After a week, my buddy Ryan and Erick were yelling at me to go to the doctor, so I finally did.  I went to a women’s clinic.  This doctor was very nice.  After a series of questions and an ultrasound, she said that I had PCOS.  She also asked for a biopsy of some tissue and blood tests to check the hormone levels.  Did all of that (which is how I knew that the sugar levels and liver enzymes were back in the “normal” range and that the beginning of the year did really pay off).  It was back and forth to the doctor for two weeks as we did the ultra sound, biopsy and then back for the results with the blood test results in hand.  In those 2 weeks, I gained 10 pounds.  Although, I hadn’t been eating great, I wasn’t sitting on the couch elbow deep in cookie dough.  She [doctor] said it could be attributed to the PCOS and that she wanted me to go to an Endocrinologist because they would be able to help me get better answers.  Which brings me to the events of today…

I went to UCLA Medical Center of Endocrinology.  I filled out a large questionnaire about symptoms, pain, issues, etc.  There were a TON of items I had checked off.  I finally go into the office and the nurse checks my BP which was I think 144/99.  I think that is high but I told her that everytime I go to the dr., my BP is high and people freak out, but I am just anxious about the visit and then it always goes back to normal during the course of the visit.  She said ok.

The Dr. comes in and asks why I was there.  I told her I was referred because it is believed that I have PCOS.  In the beginning we hit it off and were even joking.  She asked me if I get hair on my upper lip.  I said, “well I AM Italian, so I always just figured it was that.”  She laughed.  Only laugh I got out of her the whole time.

I gave her the run down on all the events leading me here, from finding out about the Diabeetus and Fatty Liver from November to juicing.. 

She cut me off to ask me what was juicing.  I explained about the fruits and veggies.  She said fruit was bad for me and that having fruit like that is the same as drinking a can of coke. [interesting]

Then she proceeds to say “you need to get insurance.”  I told her that I couldn’t afford insurance and she said, “well you need to have it because it gets really expensive to go to the doctor.”  I told her “Believe me I know, but the last time I checked for Erick and I, it was over $400 a month.”  Her response, “That’s not that bad.”  I paused, waiting for her generous offer to pay for it since it clearly seemed like it was no sweat off her paycheck.      Instead of writing me a check, she continued with, “well it should be easier for you in January, with Obama care.  It should be cheaper for you.”   I said “Thanks, I’ll look into that.”  

I noticed that we were not going to get anywhere and I was starting to just tune out, because she wasn’t taking me seriously.  I realized that without insurance, I wasn’t going to be taken seriously.  My suspicions were later justifiable as I remembered after the fact that not once did she bring up the high BP or ANY of the questions, I had checked off.  

She just kept telling me to keep doing what I was doing because it was obviously working since I lost 20 pounds .  [wait, you just said that I was drinking a ton of coke dressed up as blueberries and moonlighting as apples] Finally I cut her off and told her that it WASN’T and that since then, I have gained it all back and was trying to explain how frustrating it was to break the 20 mark.  [Imagine you are in jail and are trying to chisel an escape route through the concrete wall and all you have is a pink-frilled toothpick.  Eventually, you say fuck it and go to the cafeteria].  Her response was “well you just have to keep doing it because its healthier that way.  I said I get that but its hard because my whole life, no matter what I do, the weight wont come off.  She said “well maybe you aren’t gonna look the way you want to, but you’ll be doing the right thing.”  Finally I snapped and said, “It’s NOT about looking good, its about not being in PAIN anymore!”  She sarcastically said “with your ovaries?”  I said, “No, the constant excruciating pain in my back, my knees, my joints, etc.”  She seems surprised, “Oh, you have pain?”  [Had she even GLANCED at the questionnaire they made me fill out, you would have noticed that all of them are checked.]  She didn’t even acknowledge me and by now I am so frustrated with her lack of humanity that I could barely see though my now gloss-covered lenses and I shut her off entirely.  Her final responses were that she was sorry she didn’t have answers for me.  She mentioned some tests I could do, but then followed it up with “it costs money but wouldn’t really make much of a difference.”  She also said, “I could refer you to a dietician, but you don’t have insurance so it would cost a LOT.”  I said, “Then don’t worry about it I guess.”

When she left, she had the nurse come in and give me a free sugar-checking kit with the needles and everything.  [Which obviously I need since all my blood work came back with normal range glucose levels.]

I left her office with no answers.  No hope for answers.  No game plan from here.  So, after today I have spent over $1000 of tests, ultrasounds [which showed cysts], biopsies [came back fine], blood tests, and doctors visits and still have nothing to go on.

So apparently my diagnosis is to get Insurance and put the fork down.   What pisses me off the most is that she took one look at me and passed judgement.  Like she knew my life story and could see food smeared all over my face, buttered down hallways, and hands greased from double fisting Whoppers all day.  Why must people see someone overweight and assume the worst?  I never “saw” myself as fat, because I was always active.  I can still roundhouse kick a Century Bob.  I can still punch with a fiery force.  I can still hit a baseball.  

I still remember being 12 years old and the only girl playing at Sunrise Little League in Woodland Hills.  With my bat in hand, I started walking towards home plate and I could hear the boys yelling “Back up to the fence!  She might knock it out!”   The only thing missing was my confidence to be able to hold the bat over the left field wall and call my shot like I was some modern day Sultan of Swat.  I didn’t need the self-made ego boost to be able to hit it out of the park and when I did, I didn’t stroll the bases like one of the cocky boys.  I still ran those bases as if it was a crucial bunt in the 9th inning and my legs were the determining factor to whether we had a chance to win or not.  I ran as fast, and at times better than the boys.  I could hit the ball just as hard and often times, harder than the boys, all while carrying the pre-puberty “baby fat” as they call it.  

I was never a skinny child.  I was always pudgy, and when I became a teenager I added curvy to my pudge.  From 13 on, I was told I was fat and needed to lose weight.  I didn’t understand how I could be considered fat when I was active everyday playing tackle football, baseball and basketball on a daily basis.  “Fat” meant you were some lazy person who sat on the couch eating bon bons everyday while watching Oprah and crying that you were fat while wiping your nose with ice cream sandwiches.  Active people aren’t fat, so why was I being told my whole life that I was fat?  As the years went up, so did the scale.  At 13, I was on Phen/Fen, at some point there was Meridia and over the last 20 years, there have been Hollywood Liquid Diets, Xenadrine, HydroxyCut, Counting calories, weight watchers, gym memberships, personal trainers, low carb, diet drinks, dancing, swimming etc. and everything was the same.  The water weight would come off (usually about 20 pounds) and then nothing.  Continue another month and then nothing.  Over time, the lack of results become taxing on the body, as you are exhausted of working so hard with no results to motivate you forward.

This “stigma” lays heavily on your heart because of the rose colored glasses that are constantly preyed upon yourself from outsiders.  

I feel sorry for that Doctor today.  She became so jaded by Obamacare and medical politics that she forgot about the reason she became a doctor.  To make a difference, help the sick and save lives.  She didn’t save my life today.  Instead, she left the Titanic on a raft by herself and left me to drown.  However, she forgot that I am a professional badass and I don’t drown.  I got my Rose whistle and I will blow the fuck out of it until the proper help arrives.  Sorry Jack, but I ain’t ever letting go!!

Do not judge my book by its cover.  Open it up and you will see that my pages are pretty amazing.

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