Too Young to Die

Too Young to Die: More on Being Fat and Dealing with Doctors

Because I am fat, I have a much greater risk of developing cancer: I have heard this from every doctor I’ve ever been to. Were they attempting to scare me? Were they espousing a given truth? Were they projecting the future? Were they/Are they in the hands of Big Pharma?

I’m not sure of the truth. I’m not sure the truth matters, but what I do know for sure is that I’m tired of interacting with people who want me to live as though I’m dying, and I”m tired of dealing with people who want me to die, so I fill their statistic. Do my doctors want me to die? I dunno, but they’re not helping me by mentioning the C word EVERY TIME I see them.

Just over a month ago I went for a mammogram, and mammograms terrify me because I hear the doctors’ voices in my head. After I left the mammogram place, I could feel the fear creep through my body. I was going to get a bad diagnosis. I was going to die. I knew it, and that’s how I spent the next six days, filled worry and fear. I didn’t sleep much. I barely functioned.

I spent those six days figuring my life would spiral into a realm of sickness and despair. I lost my appetite and didn’t eat much. I went through those days like a zombie, with the voices of my doctors filling my head. I took to journaling to express my frustration. Over and over again I wrote in my journal “F*ck them. F*ck them all. I am not a statistic. I am a living functioning human being who just happens to struggle with weight and with a food addiction.

I walked through my daily activities with a profound sense of gratitude, figuring they would be the last time I’d do them. I do realize I’m overreacting here, but am I? That’s not what the doctors want me to believe.  I put myself through hell because I couldn’t shut up the voice of the doctors in my head. I

t’s true when you’re fat medical diagnoses and treatment are more difficult. Testing equipment isn’t designed for big people. The irony is, of course, that the majority of people have a weight issue or fall into the category of morbidly obese, so if there’s something wrong figuring it out becomes that much more difficult.

I am, it seems, okay. I received the letter that said my mammogram was clear. The doctor’s assistant said “you’re clear for another year”. I thought to myself “I’m clear for a lot longer than that.” And then she said, “see you in a year.” I thought to myself “oh hell no. No. No way.” I’m finding new doctors. Doctors who will help me live and not die. I”m done dying. I’m ready to live, to really start living. I refuse to spend the rest of this incarnation thinking about my death. Death will come soon enough. I choose life. I choose to live.

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About Nancy A. Taylor

I'm a woman on a mission to create, manifest, and design the life that is perfect for me through travel, yoga, and mindful living. You can find me on facebook:
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