I went to a nightclub once with a wonderful singer who was a woman of decided size. She said she'd trained for years, and one day her teacher said, "You should go perform." She said, "I want to lose some weight first." Her teacher told her that if she was waiting for that she might never get to a point where she was willing to perform, so she might as well just go out, be a big woman with a big voice, and knock 'em dead.

It's a hard thing to get past, "I'll do X when I've achieved Y." Especially when Y is a hundred extra pounds huddled lovingly on your frame.

This isn't my life. It's marking time until I'm allowed to die. I'm never going to get my turn, am I?

Isn't that a nasty, ugly place to be in? Where you want to push the Redo button because the game you've gotten so far into is just tied up into nasty knots and there aren't any moves left that will do any good? You can look at the chessboard and say, "This isn't going anywhere, let's start over," but it's not so easy with life.

But its not something they'd necessarily KNOW to learn or quite HOW to learn.

True, but that's also true of almost any form of self advocacy.

And going to the doctor makes me uncomfortable because I feel guilty that I haven't managed to re-lose the weight I regained, and then there's a guilt spiral, and I'm constantly worried that I won't be treated for whatever could be wrong because it's all my fault for liking to chow down on cookies and more deserving patients should be treated before me. So, umm. Actually not that different from the ignorant patient, in reality.

(And, yes, I'm very bad at practicing what I preach, and am dealing with currently unmedicated depression and anxiety. Because the hump of getting a doctor for that is too big and sets off the anxiety. VICIOUS IS THE CIRCLE OF MY BRAIN.)

Wow, I just hung up on someone! I don't normally do that. Someone called our drug safety hotline, so I answered, and it was someone from the Oakland Tribune. I told him that I thought he had the wrong number, and he said, oh no, he did not! Was I the business owner? Uh, no, which is why he had the wrong number. Well, would I know who was in charge of ordering newspapers? No, sorry, I couldn't help him. Oh well, that was okay, because his boss told him never to discriminate against nice guys like me, so did I want to order the newspaper? No, I wasn't interested, sorry. Oh, but it was only this many cents a day! I...did not want a newspaper. Oh, but—

"I'm going to stop wasting both our time," I said and hung up. And then wondered whether it should be "both our times."

Relatedly (and feel free to give me all the shit I deserve for being so heartless [no pun intended]), I have a call in to my doctor b/c the symptoms I've been having that COULD be heart-related, yet could also be explained away by other things, have persisted for over a week and aren't going away, and my dad has had 5 heart attacks, and my jaw and arm hurt and my chestal area feels heavy and I've been extremely exhausted and I'm just worried and simultaneously totally, utterly ashamed.

I started a new AD last week, whose 2 biggest side effects are nausea and fatigue. Well, there's the exhaustion, and nausea (which I haven't been having) is a stomach thing, and the stomach is far too close to the heart when it comes to trying to suss out symptoms. And also I have IBS, which could be the source of other stomach-but-possibly-heart-related symptoms.

And I've been working out a lot, which could make me fatigued AND sore.

But I can't stop worrying. And I'm going to be embarrassed if it's nothing and I'm going to be even more mortified if it IS heart stuff. Because of the whole fat-out-of-shape thingie.

So. Waiting for doctor to call me back and tell me if they want me to come in or go to the ER (I'm sort of assuming that this is what they'll tell me) or just suck it up.

When I told the receptionist that my dad had had 5 heart attacks, her whole tone of voice changed from humoring-the-paranoid-patient to holy-crap-she's-about-to-keel-over. It was amusing.

I feel stupid.

t edit Also, I *desperately* don't want to be like Dick Cheney.

And then wondered whether it should be "both our times."

You're going to have to call him back and give a correction.

Also, I *desperately* don't want to be like Dick Cheney.

I have been having uncharitable thougths about Dick Cheney all day. I keep telling myself that I ALWAYS have uncharitable thoughts about Dick Cheney, that I am NOT being particularly evil. This is hatred as usual, damnit!

He'd better pull through or I'm going to hell.

I have been having uncharitable thougths about Dick Cheney all day. I keep telling myself that I ALWAYS have uncharitable thoughts about Dick Cheney, that I am NOT being particularly evil. This is hatred as usual, damnit!

Right?

How can the man be in the hospital for heart problems when HE DOESN'T HAVE ONE? What, is his rock faulty?

I don't normally do that.

Your mom's given you some practice.

{{Andi}} I'm so sorry for your frustration at finding a doctor who will listen and be honestly helpful. I just want to say, I don't think you need a do over because I like the person you are, just the way you are. I'd be afraid that if you cut off any part of you, it would take the part that gives us links to puppies and kittens and that would be a travesty. Even if the doctors aren't being helpful, please know that there are a shit-ton of folks who love you just the way you are.