When I was in my teens I developed IBS. It was pretty debilitating and, combined with the anxiety and depression I was already experiencing, it turned me into something of a shut-in. I didn’t have a name for it, because it took me about ten years to get a diagnosis. In that process, I saw a lot of doctors. One, who I went to see on the recommendation of a family member, was particularly awful.
I came in for an introductory physical, and after weighing me, taking some blood, etc. he asked me why I was there. I had told him that my main compliant was IBS (I had found the term by then, and suspected that was what was wrong) and that I wanted a medical opinion on
what I could do about it. We went into his office after I got dressed and when I sat down, he asked me if I had ever heard of something called “The Atkins Diet.” Uh, yeah. I was gobsmacked. What was he talking about? I was 22, weighed about 240 lbs and was 5’7″. I had heard of every diet that had existed since the beginning of time. And I wasn’t going on any of them. Despite being at various degrees of fat my entire life, I had attempted dieting only once and had hated it so much that I stopped after three days.
I also know my body; my muscles are huge, my bones are dense. I am always going to weigh a lot, and I don’t care about that number. Before I could get a word in edgewise, he managed to ask me if I had trouble with my father (!?) because that’s where a lot of girls my age ran into trouble with getting fat and he also suggested the “half” diet to me. That’s where you can eat anything you want, but you just have half of it! Oh joy! Why hadn’t I thought of that! Just chuck the food in the garbage!
Not once did he mention the IBS. I asked if he had any advice on the problem I came in with. He said no, but maybe he could recommend a specialist. I walked out and never went back.
The worst part was, when I tell people that story, they don’t really get what was so awful about it. Because teh fat killz, right?