Fat patients should use fat doctors

This is the life lesson I have learned, today, and which I am generously sharing with you.

Fat doctors are much more likely to get it. They, like the rest of us, have agonised about the weight loss debate, worried about the damage to their health that their BMI might be doing, have lost weight only to pile it back on again, with a little more for good measure, have hated themselves for being fat, for being unhealthy, for being unable to exercise the required self-control to magically become a thin person. It’s not guaranteed, of course, because a fat doctor can always decide to project their self-loathing onto you, and if they try that, you should seek another doctor. However, if they’ve reached a certain age, and come to the conclusion that, rightly or wrongly, fat is what they are, and isn’t about to change, you stand a good chance of discussing your health with someone who sees your body shape as a parameter, not a problem to be fixed. And that clears the way for an intelligent, grown-up dialogue about what health options ARE available to you.

The other thing I learned, today, is that if you are generally against random health-screening that doesn’t relate to the reason you went to the doctor’s in the first place, you should say so, and loudly, at every interaction. Because if I had been consulted 6 weeks ago, I would never have agreed to the liver function screening, which bore no relation to the random white blotches that had appeared on my face, and I would not now be in the middle of an investigative process to find out what is wrong with my liver, the end result of which will be, us knowing what is wrong with my liver. There is no treatment. There are no symptoms. There is no problem that we are seeking to solve. We just randomly screened my liver function, and now we know it’s abnormal, we can’t possibly resist finding out why.

That annoys me intensely. I don’t believe in random screenings. I think the medical profession – particularly at the policy level, rather than the sitting-in-a-room-with-you level – is inclined to entirely disregard the emotional toll of false positives (generally more likely if testing decisions were not risk-based in the first place), of being presented with a health “problem” you didn’t know about and which doesn’t affect you, of needing to spend your perfectly good and limited time and energy on visits to blood clinics and ultrasound labs, and so on. These things are not nothing. These stresses can actually bring a health cost of their own, though they are rarely evaluated in that way. I believe, instead, in risk-based testing. So, if there is evidence to suggest a child MIGHT be being abused, we investigate – we don’t do spot checks on every family just in case. If there is evidence to suggest that there might be a problem with my liver function, we test it. If we think my complaint might be caused by lipid deposits relating to high cholesterol, we test for that – and nothing else!

Essentially, the uncomfortable conversation I had about dieting, with the previous GP that I saw, and the subsequent five weeks of worrying that there might be something seriously wrong with my liver (there isn’t), and that if there was, I was going to have to face a major confrontation with the medics regarding my refusal to attempt to lose weight, were unnecessary stresses, brought about by the first GP I saw (different one again) who took it upon herself to measure things that had nothing to do with why I had gone to see her.

She should have at least asked me. Because that’s five weeks of stress that I could have been spared.