As I sit on the examination table, you start the conversation with, “I know this is a delicate subject.” I can’t help but think, please don’t go there again; just let’s get through this appointment without revisiting this painful topic. Last time, the discussion left me in tears long after I left your office.
But you bring it up anyway. “We need to discuss your weight.”
I’m here today because I’m experiencing troubling symptoms in my legs. One leg has become swollen and painful, impacting my mobility. It’s affecting my ability to enjoy walks with my husband, trips to the park with my dog, or even grocery shopping without discomfort. I’m terrified it might be a blood clot, given that I’m on hormonal birth control and recently traveled by plane. I mentioned to you at the start of this appointment that I’ve dealt with weight issues my whole life, but this leg problem is new and alarming. Sometimes, my legs shake uncontrollably, causing me to trip and lose my balance. I’m scared and in pain, and I’m seeking your help. But instead, you want to discuss my weight.
Here’s what I need you to know, doctor: I’m not avoiding this topic because I’m “sensitive” about it. It’s because focusing on my weight often means I receive inadequate medical care. The last time we had this conversation, we spent most of the appointment going in circles, and only a few minutes on the real issue: the swelling and pain in my legs. You held my painful leg, pressed on it, and simply stated, “Yep, you’re definitely retaining fluid there!” Yet, you offered no further action—no tests, no suggestions, no treatment—because you wanted to talk about my weight instead.
This topic drives me to tears, not because I’m unaware of my weight situation, but because I feel frustrated and angry. The anger wells up inside me and manifests in tears. Do you know how many times I have had this conversation? If I had a dollar for every time a doctor has sat down with me to “Get Real™” about my weight, I could be buying a new house with a pool. But here I am, paying for this same painful dialogue.
I came prepared to this appointment, having researched possible diagnoses, and I even wrote down specific requests: an ultrasound of my legs and a referral to a specialist. You suggested diuretics without any context, but I countered that I didn’t want to take them until we knew the type of fluid we were dealing with. You nodded in agreement.
I’m exhausted from having to act as my own doctor. Believe it or not, I know I’m overweight! I’ve lived in this body for 36 years. I remember when my pediatrician told my mom to put me on a diet before I turned 10. I was aware when a school nurse suggested I join Weight Watchers in 4th grade because I “would be so beautiful if only I lost the weight.” I’ve faced pressure to diet from a young age, even ending up with gallstones after trying Atkins with my mom at 17. I’ve been through the gym, the diets, and the endless cycle of weight loss attempts.
And let me clarify: I understand that my weight is not a temporary issue; it’s my reality. I’ve spent years trying to reshape my body, investing time, money, and tears, only to end up in this same frustrating appointment again.
It took a lot for me to come here today and ask for help with my leg issue, knowing what kind of conversation would likely unfold. I rehearsed my speech about not wanting weight loss surgery on the drive over. I feared another round of comparisons that belittle my health choices. You’ve thrown unexpected comments my way before, like comparing my stomach to a disease, and I was not ready for that again.
I’m done with the shame. I’m done feeling that every ailment is somehow my fault for being overweight. I’m tired of being labeled “noncompliant” because I refuse to consider surgery that I don’t want. I deserve compassionate, evidence-based medical care, and you’re not providing it.
What do you expect from this conversation? Do you think I’ll be shocked by the revelation of my weight? Am I supposed to rush off and get a surgery to finally be treated? I have so many fears—what if my weight prevents you from noticing a serious health issue? What if I end up in a situation where my weight overshadows other health concerns that could be life-threatening?
I asked about the evidence linking my weight to my leg issues, and you admitted you had none. It’s disheartening. As tears well up, you lean in closer. Oh no, you’re not going to hug me, are you? But you did. You hugged me after chastising me about my weight and refusing to address my actual health issue.
After the appointment, I reviewed my notes in the patient portal: “Tried to discuss patient’s weight, but she is sensitive about it and prefers not to discuss it.” Really?
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In summary, my frustration with being sidelined due to my weight is overwhelming. I want to be treated for my health issues, not lectured about my body. It’s time for medical professionals to see past weight and focus on the individual’s health.