Fat Acceptance: Diagnosis FAT

[Content Note: Fat Hatred, Medical Malpractice] 

So I'm really glad that I spent $128 dollars to go to the gastroenterologist specialist today to speak to him about my daily problems with nausea and stomach upset for over a year, because he was able to take one look at me and diagnose that the problem is FAT!

WHO WOULD HAVE GUESSED THAT?!? Well, I mean, I did, obviously, which is why I basically don't go to doctors anymore unless I feel like I'm dying. (And that worked out super-well!) And why I get discouraged when people encourage me to, hey, just go find some other gastroenterologist because if you spend $128 dollars often enough, eventually you're bound to find someone who won't stop at Diagnosis: Fat! And that's totally not an invisible tax on being fat in our society and it's totally not a horrible irony when people complain about fat folks dragging down the healthcare system with their fatty bad health.

Ahem.

Also by way of updates: That uneducated upstart nurse practitioner who gave me antibiotics because all symptoms pointed to X and copious family history pointed to X and the Magic 8 Ball said it was very likely X just probably diagnosed me wrong because the Hospital Diagnose-a-tron 5000 is never wrong and also I'm statistically too young to get X and that's totally how statistics work. So the fact that the antibiotics cleared everything up in a couple of hours was probably just a coincidence or a placebo effect. Because when you've been on medications all your life and in-and-out of hospitals for years, you totally expect New Medications to fix you instantly. Total Belief In The Power Of Medication To Fix Things Instantly is definitely a phrase that should be mentally applied whenever you see my name. 

I think the gastroenterologist maybe could have ordered some tests to check to see if maybe my problems might be caused by something other than fat, but I guess that seemed hard because he didn't. He told me to lose weight, and then scheduled a follow-up visit for two months down the road to check on the whole not-being-fat thing. I'm sure that won't be a total waste of everyone's time and money! (The best part about that is that they didn't let me schedule it myself which I can weasel out of by saying "I have to go home to check my calendar, I'll call you" and then never calling. No, they handed me an appointment card saying when my visit is and now I have to work up a good lie for when I cancel that over the phone and don't reschedule.)

In conclusion: Everything about this week's foray into the American Medical Establishment has made me almost as miserable as my initial condition.