My most recent foray into the world of medicine has been difficult and harrowing. I need a replacement hip because mine is a disaster. Because medicine uses the outdated and unhelpful BMI standard to set boundaries for such surgeries, I must lose weight before I can have the surgery. There is a *a lot* about this that is frustrating, including the fact that I am dealing with a pretty high level of pain. To tell a patient “I know you’re miserable but no help is available” requires a great deal of bed side manner to not seem like a total dick. Suffice it to say, I do not have that doctor. And the fact that I will remain in pain until I meet an arbitrary number on a discredited metric is, ahem, frustrating. It feels as if my life matters less because I am fat. And it doesn't just feel that way, it *is* that way. No physician that I have seen in the last few days is willing to look me in the eye as they explain that I must simply endure the pain. Again, this is cold comfort. At the orthopedist, I was advised to come back in three months. Because I *for sure* welcome the charge for that kind of dismissive and dehumanizing experience again.
For now, the plan is to try not to eat so that I can lose weight and meet the metric, at which point I will return to the orthopedist and have the surgery. The corollary plan is to do my best to avoid the self-loathing of my body that I had done a really great job vanquishing in the last 20+ years. I know that self-loathing is not a helpful tool in this struggle, but body dysmorphia waits for no one, especially in a world where your primary problem cannot be solved because medicine has decided you are too fat. Self-loathing is therefore in full command now, which is not awesome. I will struggle on because there is no other choice. Until then, pain and I will be unhappy companions. And I will indulge in a whole lot of ongoing dislike and disrespect for medical science with each aching step.
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