What Happens When One Fat Patient Sees A Doctor

On seeking health care for the first time in years.

I am calm when I make the call to request an appointment with a new doctor. The anxiety sets in with the silence that follows.

In the days leading up to the appointment, I hardly sleep. The weekend is tense and anxious. I withdraw from friends, canceling plans, knowing how distant I can be in moments like these. I keep myself busy with long walks, housework, distracting movies, but no matter what I do, I can feel my heart beat in every inch of my body. My skin pulsates with tension, ready to react. Ready to run.

I am very fat, and on Monday, I will face my first doctor’s appointment in years.

On Sunday night, I lay awake in a sleep mask, my eyes open in forced darkness. A tidal wave of memories crash over me, and I am submerged. The nurse who took my blood pressure four times, frowning, because she couldn’t believe it was healthy. The doctor who prescribed weight loss as after care for an ear infection. The friend whose OBGYN set a weight limit on the patients they would accept — more than 250 pounds, and you would not be granted the privilege of reproductive health. The doctor who wouldn’t touch me.