...ugh.
First off, I'll start by saying I've always been a healthy human. I'm 5'4, and I generally stay at between 128 and 138 pounds. Not intentionally, but my activity levels and my food preferences (I like moderation--I eat a bit of everything) keep me at a steady Kiel.
I was outside my normal network last year, thus came the need for a new OB.
So...I packed up my inhibitions and made the drive to the office. I was nervous but eh, whatever. It's always daunting to meet a new doctor, especially when they'll be very acquainted with your nether regions whether they ever learn your favorite color or not.
The nurse took my vitals and had me sit in the waiting area. All normal. Because I'm a shy person by nature, I didn't pay too much attention to the bad vibe I got during triage/intake. I'm not exactly socially awkward, but I'm also not exactly a social butterfly. In order to not misread a vibe, I usually just observe from a safe distance. This vibe didn't let up though.
What vibe?
Oh, the whispers. The raised eyebrow. The double checking of my weight.
Now, I'm not large, but I'm also not unhealthy. I eat well and my appetite is pretty good most of the time. Because I've breastfed and pumped for the last (almost) 3 years, I actually get away with a couple extra snacks a day. I consider myself a normal-sized person, or at least normal for me. Besides, what's normal?!
The bad vibe continued. Got stronger.
I was given tips on healthy eating. I was encouraged to not skip meals. (I generally don't!)
I was give a gentle lead into the discussion about eating disorders.
The only time I've ever not eaten for any notable time frame, was during a struggle with hyperemesis. I didn't eat because eating led to vomiting, which led to a bleeding esophagus and crushing chest pain. And even then, I still made sure I was nourished--I took intravenous nutrition and fluids, and consumed the few foods I could by mouth even though they were just little sips and nibbles.
To be fair, I met this doctor on the tail end of that hyperemesis bout. I was getting used to food not being painful... and enjoying it. So to have this person taking one small thread of my life and measuring my entirety against it felt really bad.
I hadn't thought about being told off for not measuring right on a scale. I was happy to be eating without pain, happy to be nourishing my baby via all that good breastmilk, and happy to see/smell/taste food without being violently ill. In my excitement to finally be feeling normal again, I hadn't given my BMI a second thought... or first.
What did I do?
Nothing at first, admittedly. I wasn't even entirely sure I should be offended at all. I'm not exactly skinny, and it almost felt hypocritical to compare this to skinny shaming. One, I'm not skinny. Two, I'm not ashamed of my weight ever--not at its highest (so far 150) and not at its norm (around 138). You can't be shamed for something you aren't actively or latently self-conscious about.
But to have this doctor actively plucking at me, trying to draw a confession about an issue I don't have, made me feel shame. Not because of weight, but because I didn't stand up for myself as soon as I felt "this isn't ok!" I shouldn't have "respectfully" listened to them drone on about bulimia or anorexia. I should not have gotten on that scale three times. I should NOT have allowed that doctor to press guilt on me for issues I don't even have.
I felt sad, too. If I was feeling this way in the complete absence of a problem, how would a patient feel who NEEDED treatment for those problems?
It made me mad. Mad enough to go do something about it. Mad enough to make sure that doctor didn't treat anyone else to the same shame he attempted to serve me.
I didn't harm his practice. I simply spoke up and out. My only regret is not doing it sooner-- there were two or three appointments of similar ill manner that I shrugged off. As I've emerged from my struggle with PPD, I've been a little more sensitive than normal. So I didn't want to project my malaise onto a situation that didn't warrant it. I didnt speak because I wanted to be sure there was an issue--and there decidedly was.
I wouldn't have been projecting. I WASN'T being hypersensitive.
When a doctor badgers a patient about a treatment they don't want or need, it's wrong. When a doctor uses his position to force a patient to accept an incorrect diagnosis, it's wrong. When a doctor refuses to respect a patient, it's WRONG. When a doctor consistently pushes a patient to accept unneeded intervention, it's WRONG WRONG WRONG.
This doctor wanted me in therapy. For an eating disorder I don't have.
Now.
Imagine walking in that office NEEDING help for an eating disorder.
Would you feel comfortable? Would the doctor even notice you were suffering?
Because he was so focused on the ten pounds I shed after delivery (never mind I was breastfeeding around the clock and enjoying a pretty active stint after being on bed rest for months), he completely missed the opportunity to be a decent human.
I wouldn't darken his doorway again if he were the last OB/GYN in Georgia. Thankfully I won't have to.
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