The Gatekeeper

July 8, 2016: The day of my first doctor’s appointment at the weight loss clinic began by pulling on my favorite Bob’s Burgers black t-shirt and a pair of comfortable jeans, believing somehow these articles of clothing would protect me or give me comfort.

I was anxious. I was afraid they would find something wrong with me, and I would not be able to have surgery and be stuck in my body size the rest of my life. After the education session, I firmly believed the only answer to weight loss was surgery.

Sidenote: Every day I am vigilant to rail against the surgery brainwashing. At the education session, and during the months of preparation for the surgery, I was told over and over again about how surgery is the only answer to “real, long lasting weight loss.” Since I became more mobile after the second month post surgery, I have become the type of person I feared — A person who looks at others as potential weight loss surgery candidates. The brainwashing was so innate and severe that when I see an overweight person, my first thought is: “I wonder if they have thought about surgery.”

Fortunately, therapy has helped me become acutely self-aware. When that first thought becomes conscious, I admonish myself. I make myself recognize how beautiful, amazing and strong that person is. They are outside the house, moving around, in yoga classes, at the coffee shop living their lives. They are doing things I found impossible due to fear of people or due to the pain walking caused. I send them positive thoughts and strength for them to love themselves and find a place to exist in this world that does not make a place for overweight people to fit. End Sidenote.

Returning to the same hospital where we attended the information session, my husband found the closest parking ramp to the weight loss clinic’s office. I was wearing the same sandals I wore the night of the information session, and the walk from the parking lot to the clinic burned my feet. My sharp back pain forced me to sit down halfway between the parking ramp and the office.

Breathless, I stepped to the front desk to speak with a thin, older woman. The woman stood up and said “Hello” with a look of recognition and  through an obviously fake smile. She expressed a familiarity with me that made me uncomfortable. She asked me, “Who might you be?”

Seriously? “Who might you be?” This phrase is uttered by adults to children or animals with their hands on their knees while they bend over to look at the child or the animal.

I told her my name, and she squinted her eyes, looking at me skeptically, as if I wasn’t who I said I was. Then after several awkward silent moments, she turned around and picked up a piece of paper off a table behind her. She placed the paper on the counter between us and looked over her glasses at me. The paper was a print out of all of my information, and she slowly, very slowly went down each box reading my name, my address, my insurance etc. She used a pen to point at each of the boxes to make sure the information was correct. Aside from the obvious violation of HIPAA as my information was laying completely printed and out in the open AND her reading my information loud enough to the entire waiting room, each answer I gave  was met with that same skeptical look.

The look made me feel like she thought I was lying or confused. I felt like I was a child lost in a store and telling the security guard my mom’s information, but he doesn’t believe me when I say I’m lost. Finally she released me and told me to sit in the waiting room. This was my first day at the clinic. I was ashamed, anxious and embarrassed because I was there to ask for help. What I expected and wanted to see from the first person representing the clinic that day was empathy, compassion and kindness. Instead, I was treated like a child and a suspicious liar at the same time.  

As far as the actual appointment, that will be covered in future posts. But for now, you will be sticking to the gatekeeper.

GATEKEEPERS

After the appointment finished, I had to speak to her again with a green slip of paper the nutritionist handed to me to schedule the next appointment. This was another excruciating encounter, as she awkwardly fiddled with the schedule much longer than a person should. The appointment was over and all I wanted to do was get to the car before the tears started flowing. Instead, she became a roadblock; a way for the weight loss clinic to make sure I would return.

Once I finally had an appointment, using the same pen she used earlier, she slowly wrote in large, grandiose cursive writing the date and time of the next appointment  as if she was making a beautiful piece of calligraphy art.

Again, I thought this just must be the way she behaves at the first appointment. Nope. This is how she behaves at EVERY appointment. She asks for my information in the exact same way EVERY time.

She doesn’t behave this way with just me. No, this is her behavior with all of the bariatric surgery patients. Her behavior reinforces the stereotypes that fat people are lazy and stupid. Before the surgery, her behavior reinforced the treatment I received in the world. After the surgery, her behavior is a reminder that no matter how much weight I lose, I will still be overweight and stuck facing these stereotypes.

Now, I work every day to not allow people to make me feel like a lazy, stupid child. Some days are easy, other days suck. Weight loss clinic appointment days are one of the latter. I have hope that one day they will be the former.

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