It’s automatically my weight, right?
Let me start this off by prefacing it with the fact that I drive a great deal for work. It’s an inescapable part of my job. About five years ago, I started getting killer cramps. Killer because I literally had to pull off the road into the hard shoulder because I was curling up in pain, tears running down my face because of the intensity. While in pain, I had to try to straighten up enough to find a service station because following the cramps, I had about 10 minutes to find a bathroom because otherwise there would be some really bad consequences. I got into the habit of having spare clothes in the back of the car, just in case, and honestly, the level of pain that I was experiencing was so bad that I was really worried that something serious was wrong.
I went to my local doctor. He said that it was probably just a gastro-intestinal issue, and that it could last anywhere from 6-8 weeks. I told him that it had already lasted 8 weeks. He looked me up and down and told me that I should “lay off the food so much”, and take a couple of ibuprofen for the pain.
Meanwhile at work, I was getting some hassle from my boss because I’d arrived late at a couple of appointments. I started leaving earlier in the morning, often leaving at 6am to reach a customer by 10, and there were still mornings where that didn’t work out. One morning in particular, I had to pull off the road three times and ended up calling my mother just to hear someone at the other end of the phone and have her talk to me through the pain.
I went back to my doctor at week 10 and insisted that something was wrong, that something was up. He said, “Yeah, your weight." I’d actually lost half a stone due to not eating over those two weeks, and his assessment wasn’t due to any actual standing on scales. I insisted and he started going through my diet with me. He insisted that I cut out fruit and veg, because they seemed to set off whatever this was.
My work complicated things because I was starting to experience some driving related issues in my feet and legs. Plantar fasciitis, RSI in my ankles, cartilage problems in my knees, and during the following Summer, my feet swelled up so much that I felt that one millimeter more and my skin would burst. I could press on my feet and leave a depression that would take ten minutes to bounce back.
Back I went to the practice nurse and she looked at them, poked them and said, "Well, dear, what do you expect? You’re fat." I barely held back the tears. "Lose some weight." I turned around to her and told her that I could barely walk for more than 10 minutes without pain and that the doctor had put me on a diet that included no fruit and veg. How exactly did she expect me to lose weight. "Well, that is tricky, isn’t it?” was her sole reply.
I stayed on that diet suggestion for 2 years and I still had cramping incidents bad enough to pull me off the road. It was mum who finally suggested that I fly home to their home and go to the doctor who I’d seen growing up. I flew home the next weekend and mum made an appointment for me. I walked in and she was so understanding that I ended up crying on her for ten minutes solid. I had all the signs and symptoms of two conditions, Diverticulitus or Irritable Bowel Syndrome. She had me down and scheduled for a colonoscopy the following day. I was so relieved.
I met the consultant, who was a wonderfully soothing man, and changed into my gown and waited for him to come back and explain in detail what was going to happen. Instead, it was his registrar who came back. I heard him in the cubicle next to me. He was swapping kid stories with the woman in there (a short, dumpy woman of about 50 with 5 kids). He told her that there was nothing to worry about, that if it was IBS that it was manageable, that it was the result of a change in food types and that our digestive systems weren’t adapting to certain non-native food types. Nothing to worry about. As I listened in, I was relaxed and thinking that I did the right thing, that everything was going to be fine.
The registrar came around my curtain, checked my chart and confirmed my age (28) and looked up. “There is no such thing as IBS in your age group. You are fat and need to lose about 3 stone." To say that I was shocked would be an understatement. I looked over at the nurse who just looked away, her cheeks red. He went over my pre-op list and disappeared off.
I went for my colonoscopy and met with the consultant the following day. After 30 months of pain and bathroom emergencies, I finally had a clear and concise definition of what was wrong with me. I had a bad case of IBS. During the procedure, my insides were so sensitive that they cramped down so hard that they had to wait fifteen minutes to be able to pull the camera out safely. He referred me back to my GP to start working on what foods were causing the issues.
I took the opportunity to tell him about his registrar because I couldn’t just leave it. I didn’t get how he could be so nice to one patient, bonding over kids and reassuring her, and then turn around and say something so humiliating to me. He was shocked, and said that he would deal with the matter himself. I have no idea if he did, but I did get a followup letter from him with an official apology in it. (It did accompany the bill, so, ya know…)
My GP immediately got me set up for an intolerance test which came back and since then, I turned a corner. No more morning cramps, no more cramps while walking through the supermarket, no more cramps (as long as I keep away from my intolerance foods).
I ended up going back to my local doctor and told him about what had happened. His closing words on the situation? "I should have guessed. You are fat after all.”
I changed to a different practice.
