Get Your Bitch On! By Patricia McCellan.

How many of these have you heard from your doctor? "If you would just try to lose a little weight, you’d feel so much better." "Oh, that’s because you’re overweight." "I get so tired of advising you people to lose weight. You never listen." "No wonder your knees hurt. Look how heavy you are."

You can probably add dozens more such dismissive, belittling comments. Doctors don’t like fat women. Many doctors just don’t like women. In my 68 years, I have heard all sorts of excuses from doctors who can’t be bothered to do their jobs because one look at me, one moment of attention to my complaints provokes such sexist bigotry, such prejudice of one kind or another that they move from rational thought to emotional rant. I therefore advise walking into a doctor’s office with a written list of what one needs to ask or to report. If necessary, ask the doctor to let you have a turn to talk, ask the doctor to listen with his or her rational mind before judging. Be your own best advocate. Or take an advocate with you. I recall one instance in which I had been lying in the floor helpless for most of a day. Taken to a hospital I did not like, I was subjected to hours of neglect and no real testing. Dismissed the next day, having been treated for dehydration, I nearly died of three bleeding ulcers, not to mention untreated and undiagnosed rheumatoid arthritis which caused pain that literally made me weep – something I rarely will do before strangers. On another occasion, one of the most egregiously rude doctors I ever met decided I just needed a good talking to. He ranted at me for a good ten minutes. When he was done I told him in a very loud voice that I was sick and tired of people who had lost a pound once talking to me about losing weight. I would, nowadays, congratulate him on graduating from the Dr. House bedside manner academy. In any case, when I left that office raging, the doctor’s staff applauded me. He evidently made their lives hell as well. Big frog, little pond syndrome. My considered advice is, remember the doctor should want to listen. If not, verbally request a turn to talk, and read your entire list out. Try to get a doctor who has privileges at a teaching hospital. They have to be current on the latest research, and you are more likely to be sent for tests that actually have something to do with your symptoms. You are also less likely to hit upon a doctor for whom his work is just a job. What you want is one who actually cares. In this country, medical care is not considered a right. You have to fight to get your needs addressed. This gets very old. Be sure to have a support group of some kind to vent with, to befriend you, and to advocate for you. If you have to go to the ER, take a book, your music, a blanket and a bottle of water, as well as all the meds you are on. Be prepared to wait. Steel yourself for confrontation. Even if it makes you cry, demand that you be heard. If worst comes to worst, tell them that if you die there, your family has instructions to sue for wrongful death. Never forget that you have a right to be happy. You deserve to be treated well. You may have to teach people how to treat you. Get your Bitch on, if you must. Good luck, my friends.