onceafatgirl

Peace is better than chocolate

Archive for the tag “doctors”

15 Sep 2024

Taking my doctor’s advice

I had a doctor’s appointment this week. And to prep for it I had to get a fasting blood draw. I, as many of you know, have a lot of awful past experiences with having my blood taken. But I found a lady at the hospital who is amazing at it, and I know what days she works. (Also, even as good as she is and painless as it was, I still ended up with a 2” bruise.) 

So my labs came back a few days before the appointment and I learned that I have high cholesterol. And I was worried. About what? Who knows! About letting down my doctor? About having to have a conversation about what I am eating? About being put on more drugs?

But what happened is my doctor looked at all of the other factors in my life, did some special doctor calculations, and told me that my lifestyle is enough to counteract my cholesterol. The fact that I don’t drink or smoke, that I exercise regularly, that I get enough sleep and stay hydrated, means that my chances of having a stroke or heart attack are 0.6%. So she said “you can just keep doing what you are doing.”

Look, I do want to keep an eye on it. Maybe eat more eggs and chicken and less bacon and sausage and pork rinds. Maybe. 

But the point is, that I *can* keep an eye on it. Because when I got my eating under control 18+ years ago, I started really looking at what I was eating. I started knowing exactly what and how much I would be eating in a day. Everything that was going in my body.

When you start a diet or with a nutritionist, usually their first assignment is for you to write down everything you eat in a day. And when I was eating compulsively and eating my drug foods, I RESISTED!!! I didn’t want to know. I didn’t want to see. I didn’t want facts and figures. I liked keeping it muddy for myself. If I didn’t acknowledge the truth of the situation, I could fail to see the solution. 

But in retrospect I think I did that mostly because I knew on some level that I was not capable of implementing the solution. If the solution was to eat less, which it was, I was not able. 

I am an addict. Telling me to not eat sugar is like telling an unhoused person to just get a home. I’m not saying that the end result is good. I’m saying I need support. I need a paradigm shift. I need a community to understand. It takes me doing the work, yes, but the work is not easy. And the work is not a thing that just happens. 

I have high cholesterol because I’m still a food addict. Because I’m still afraid of being hungry (hence all the fatty meats.) Because I’m afraid of having a disappointing meal. Because I am worried that if I don’t eat enough calories while I am building so much muscle during my workout that I will be sick or lightheaded. 

But I am also a *recovering* sugar addict and compulsive eater. So I live a generally healthy lifestyle because I am too present not to. Because I am fully aware of how the little things I do every day, add up to a good and happy life, and the opportunity to make a better choice in the future.

But for today, I’m going to take my doctor at her word and just keep doing what I am doing.

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23 Jul 2023

The slow crawl to spectacular

I saw a pulmonologist this week and it could not have gone better.

A little over 2 months ago, I got sent for a lung function test. Afterwards, a doctor called me and told me that my lungs were fine and to stop taking the medication I had been taking. And I was upset. Because my lungs were very clearly not fine.

It was more of the same thing that I had always felt about doctors growing up. That nobody was listening to me. That the relationship was about power and submission. And that I was always the small one expected to submit. They were the doctors. They knew everything. I knew nothing.

But I was feeling panicked and crazy and scared. And I called a friend crying and she told me that she had to learn to advocate for herself with doctors. That it was a skill. And that I should figure out what I want for myself. Which is so not how I have ever thought about doctors.

So first, I took the doctor’s advice, knowing I already had a pulmonologist appointment, and I stopped taking the medication. And then I started taking notes on my lung function every day in my journal. And how often I had to take a different medication (fast acting instead of long lasting.) And then I psyched myself up to duke it out with this pulmonologist to get back on the medication that had been helping. Because no matter what that test said, there was something wrong!

But I walked in and he looked at my test results – the same ones from months ago when they told me my lungs were great – and he said I have a very specific kind of asthma. That the tests look great because I seem to be at the highest level of lung function, but that it’s misleading because actually, there is too much air in my lungs. I am getting air trapped in there and then breathing more air on top of it. And then he asked me how I felt being on the original medication and I told him “spectacular.” So he put me back on it. I didn’t even have to make the request. 

But wait. There’s more! He then told me that this particular kind of asthma often goes away on its own and that we will revisit it in 6 months, but there is a good chance that this too shall pass. 

Then he said I could take a blood test and they could see if I had certain markers for asthma. But I told him that I have a really hard time with blood tests and that if it was necessary I would but I would rather not. And he told me that it was not necessary at this point. So we wouldn’t do it.

Before I got my eating under control, life happened to me all the time. I was powerless. I was just dragged along. And I didn’t even realize that there was another way.

When I put boundaries around my eating, I got clarity. I got responsibility. I got the ability to ask for help. To learn a new way to do things. 

But also, I just want to note that it took 16 years of having my eating under control plus a health condition to actually go to the doctor. And the help and guidance of loved ones to begin to understand how to navigate that world. So I’m not saying it’s quick, I’m just saying it’s a slow crawl to “spectacular.”

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12 Mar 2023
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The thing that is killing me quickest

In the past 17 years since I got my sugar addiction and eating disorders under control I realized that a lot of people come to recovery wanting to change everything about their lives now. Right now! And I heard people with a lot of time in recovery say “for now, just quit the one thing that is killing you quickest.”


And that was amazing advice. I smoked for the first 6 or 7 years of having my eating under control. Because eating compulsively was definitely killing me quickest. (Physically? Who knows. But personally, emotionally, mentally and spiritually? Absolutely.)


I could only quit cigarettes because I had already gotten my eating taken care of to the point that I wasn’t afraid of the food anymore.


Well, this week I went to a doc-in-a-box because I was running out of the rescue inhaler I have been using for the last three months. And the very nice doctor (or nurse practitioner? Whatever) said that using a rescue inhaler every day is an issue. So she prescribed me a maintenance inhaler. And she told me that I need to get a primary doctor. That whatever I have is not something that she can diagnose. And that it is a big deal.


So apparently the thing that is killing me quickest currently is my fear of doctors.

I have trauma around doctors and medical professionals. You know that thing that Maya Angelou said? “I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.” The culture of doctors and healthcare providers has always made me feel shamed, unworthy, and unwelcome. And while I was stressing over whether or not a doctor would refill my rescue inhaler prescription, I realized that I am afraid that I have to “deserve” healthcare. By being a good girl. By taking care of myself perfectly. By being worthy of a doctor’s time and attention.


Because when I was fat, I was always made to feel that I *didn’t* deserve to be taken care of. Because if I really cared about myself I would not have been fat. And if I didn’t care enough to stop eating, I didn’t deserve care from others. This is the way it is for a lot of fat people. And many of them have not had the privilege I have of being relatively healthy. I have not needed a doctor in the past 25 years. But I am 45 now. And apparently have some sort of lung issues. And I have to take some actions to find a doctor to be *my* doctor.


Just the thought makes me very emotional. And very afraid. But I am not a fool. And I do know that this is the thing that is killing me quickest. So just like any other thing I know is not serving my needs, I will change it. Slowly I don’t doubt. And imperfectly I am sure. But I will change it. One day at a time. One step at a time.

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