Shannon and Pam were today. I have to admit that I felt largely disconnected from the subjects of discussion. Even having been in some of the images, I just sort of...felt disconnected. I've never had a baby or even been close to someone pregnant. I mean, not enough to be invested in their pregnancy.
And I've never paid for health insurance. I've always been covered by a parent's plan or by insurance through a university. There were a few months between my undergrad and my time at Mizzou when I didn't have insurance, but I'm a very healthy person. I'm VERY rarely ill. If I vomit, it's a big deal. During my entire undergraduate career, it happened maybe three times? And since then, only once. I have some semi-intense allergies and sinus stuff happens, but I'm very rarely sick to the point that I need a doctor.
The alarming part of discussion for me was when the issue became about obesity as a disease. It's not a disease. Fat isn't something I caught from anyone, and it's not something I can give to anyone. It's not something that I can be vaccinated against and not something I can take medicine for. Furthermore, it's not something I feel the need to recover from. That's absurd. And yet, I'm consistently treated like a second-class citizen by medical professionals. Over the summer, I went in to ask about birth control. I've never had sexual intercourse and was primarily interested, I explained, in regulating my menstrual cycle because I had tried holistic medicines and found no success with them. I explained that my diet was better, if anything, than the last time I'd menstruated and that I was getting more exercise daily than the last time. The doctor checked my blood pressure, which was at an ideal place for my age. Subsequently, I was subjected to my SECOND pap smear of the year and was asked to have blood work done. I was told that it was urgent and should be done the next day. I was told that for MY best results, I should begin fasting when I left the office rather than a resting fast during my sleep. My blood work came back beautifully, but I couldn't bring myself to work with that particular doctor again. I felt disgusting and disrespected--I felt ashamed of my body and my blood and my uterus. I felt ashamed of my whole self. For the first time in quite some time, I felt guilty for being hungry. The whole experience was massively triggering, and I still haven't convinced myself to go back, even though I know I can request a different doctor.
I think people underestimate the impact that they have on others. It seems that particularly in high-anxiety jobs, a professional would take an interest in perfecting their "bedside manner". It seems like a person responsible for loving human bodies back to health would take the time to love the person inside of those bodies. At least enough to listen. At least enough to not think my fat is causing a malfunction in every piece of equipment you use on me. And if you stop being able to love those bodies...why be a doctor?
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