The Unfit Physician

Thankfully the journey to my sleeve was followed very rigidly by a Bariatric Team.  After the referral there was Orientation, clinical visits, extensive medical testing, fluid trials, and specialist appointments.  I spent much of 2012 feeling like a lab rat and I honestly couldn't have been happier about it.  I am VERY thankful that here in my province the procedure is new enough to warrant rigorous examination.  I have follow up appointments with the Team and Surgeon for the next 5 years.  I also opted to join a formal study of the VSG (Vertical Sleeve Gastrectomy) patients in hopes that the program might be extended to even more people. I was one of the lucky ones.  I was referred just one year ago, and surgery was completed 12 months later.  Right now the current wait time is 4-5 years. 

If you've been reading this blog, you'll know that Hubby and I also spent this year trying to conceive.  The plan had been that I would take whatever came first.  Well, the call for surgery came in October so that ended all plans for Operation Stork.  According to my surgeon and team, if things progress well for me in 2013 nutritionally, I will be given the green light to start trying again in one year.

Along the way we had a few bumps.  Most notably this past August.  Before I got the call with the surgery date, Hubby and I were referred to a local specialist with regards to pregnancy.  Thankfully I had "googled" this Doctor and knew from comments on "Rate my MD" what to expect.

(Note: I understand that the issue of a morbidly obese female wishing to procreate is complex.  And yet, it does not always have to be.  The overall picture of your health cannot solely be based by the numbers on the scale.  Yes, being morbidly obese makes me at risk for certain diseases.  So does smoking, drinking, sun tanning...  Remember, my blood pressure has always been normal.  My bloodwork has always been perfect.  My blood sugar has always been normal.  Even my cholesterol was great!  One specialist whom I saw early in 2012 -who was sadly not taking new patients -  told me that she would rather have me as a patient at my weight than a person of a normal BMI who smoked.  The doomsday scenario of a large lady bearing children as a disaster is simply old school and not accurate...  and tales of pre-eclampsia, gestational diabetes, and septicemia are certainly valid yet are often exaggerated.  Again - overall health has to include the numbers on the scale but cannot be limited or defined by them.)

Soooo....  Hubby and I went to said appointment.  At this stage, it would not be unusual to perhaps try medical assistance such as clomid to boost ovulation.

Of course before we could see the Dr, a kind nurse took my height and weight.  I briefly thought about skipping that step so that the Dr. would actually see ME and not the number.  But, being ever the good girl I did as I was asked.  Stepped on the scale, and while I prayed yet again that I hadn't gained, I also found myself praying that I had grown 5 inches or more to lessen the BMI.  Don't worry, I know that is not possible!

We were brought to an exam room, although looking back there was certainly no need.  The Dr. could have done the rest of this in the lobby (which, by the way, was plastered in wall to wall images of babies..... not exactly a good thing if you are there to find out that you are infertile...).

The Dr. breezed into the room, chart in hand.  She was beautiful, with blonde hair and limbs that seemed to go on without end.  She was thin and was as graceful as a ballerina.  I'm not sure if she has ever been at war with her body or the scales, but she did not appear to be battling either that morning.

Without looking at me - she artfully dodged this by looking at the wall, the lamp, Hubby, the floor - she addressed me by name (although sadly it was not my name!) and although I gently corrected her, in the next 3 minutes she used 4 variations of names that were not mine.  Not once did she look me in the eye.

Her message - which was succinctly delivered in 2 minutes flat - was that at my "current STATE" it would not be ethical for her to assist us on our journey to conceive.
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(Pause while I fill you in...)
First of all, a Dr. should be able to look at a patient, no matter how horrific they may appear.  I assure you that other than being large, I am quite pleasant looking.  I do not have horns, warts, or other physical deformities.  I did not have anything in my teeth, nor boogers hanging from my nose...
Second, with all of the education these people get, a Dr. should be able to call you by the correct name.  It is not a reach to assume she could read.   And I know from seeing the chart that my name was clearly printed - right next to my height and weight.  I don't know if she was stuck on the numbers in the weight box or what, but there is simply no excuse for calling me 5 different names especially when I had corrected her the first time...
Last but not least.... morbid obesity is a medical term.  Some consider it a disease, and some a disability.  To refer to my weight as a "STATE" was the worse than looking at the floor and calling me the wrong name... it was just plain uneducated.
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So... without any interaction from us, she stood up and as she exited through the door she turned and offered the only suggestion she had - "if you have 15 thousand dollars perhaps I could refer you to a clinic in Halifax where you could go to store your eggs IF you have any left."  Exit Doctor, stage right.

Ironically, I left that appointment with my head held even higher.  I didn't get assistance, information, or even guidance.  But I got clarity:  this lady was not meant to be our Specialist.  End of story.  A year from now, hopefully we will be given the green light to try again.  Should we need another appointment it will simply be with someone else.

I called this post The Unfit Physician.  Even though she was quite fit physically, she was not "fit" to communicate with patients - or at least those of us of size.  People in the medical profession need to be able to communicate with patients, or at least address them with some modicum of professionalism.  I didn't expect her to understand anything about me or my struggles with weight... come to think of it I didn't even speak other than to correct her on my name.  She seemingly thought that she knew everything she needed to know about me based on the numbers on the scales - which is a very sad conclusion for a Dr. to make. 

After all, "do no harm" means more than making a mistake during a procedure...