Good Ship Tabasco writes:
I spent eight to ten years with doctors treating me for asthma and telling me to lose weight.
I never had asthma. I could lose some weight.
Two years ago my poor breathing had gotten to the point that it took three efforts to get to the top of the stairs in my house, and twice I fainted at the top. My husband counted that I was stopping to catch my breath every fifteen steps. I saw doctors and doctors. I had one who told me that my stress incontinence was the result of being too fat.
The one that finally broke the camel’s back was an allergist, a female, who, when I saw her said that I just needed to exercise more. She said that the reason I couldn’t get a full breath of air in my lungs was because I didn’t “lay off the baked goods.”
Two weeks later I discovered that the reason I couldn’t bet a full breath of air in my lungs was because I had a pericardial effusion measuring almost a liter, and idiopathic pulmonary arterial hypertension, an incurable, deadly disease that has nothing to do with weight, nothing to do with smoking, and everything to do with doctors looking at the obvious.
Two years of treatment, I can run up a flight of stairs, and I have lost 40 lbs without significant change of diet.
I didn’t pay her bill.
Sign me as The Admiral