I recently had my post-surgical follow-up. Since my fourth surgery, I have felt good. Incredibly good. Once the immediate pain of the surgery wore off, I began to ease back into a workout routine.
As I've mentioned previously, I've always been an active person. I haven't always been a thin person, but I have always been active. I do not enjoy leading a sedentary lifestyle, and when my lipedema kicked into high gear and progressed so quickly, it was like a kick in the gut. The idea of being housebound was devastating to me. I could live with my body changing, sure, but to not be able to go hiking or to spend all day wandering in the woods was more than I could bear. The goal of my workout routine was to get back to where I was before all this happened. I knew I wouldn't get there overnight, though. I am still healing, for one thing, but I'm also older, and I still have a lot of lippy fat and regular fat on top of that. I'm a work in progress. I'm being realistic.
So I started with short walks and bike rides. My husband and I have enjoyed seeking out new trails, and he's been challenging me with hills (the jerk!). I've built up to longer distances and more challenging paths. It feels so good to move my muscles and to wake up in the morning feeling just a bit stiff and sore. I'm moving again! I'm feeling like me again! I see a light at the end of the tunnel. Can you imagine how amazing that feels?
When I went to see Dr. Buck for my follow-up visit, I told him that I felt like he gave me my life back. That's about the only way I can explain it. He literally gave me my life back. He returned something that had been stolen from me by this miserable disease. I didn't ask for lipedema. I didn't want it. I'd lived a healthy, happy, vibrant life until my mom died.
People always assume you do something to bring it on yourself. They blame you when things go wrong. I guess it's their way of comforting themselves that it won't happen to them. Fat-shaming is the same -- if you're fat because you ate wrong or were lazy, well, then, of course they'll never get fat because they eat right and exercise. I'm here to tell you that's not always true. I was a vegetarian for a good part of my life, and I never ate processed foods of any kind. (Heck, I had a full-blown eating disorder for 7 years!). I exercised regularly and lived an active life.
I wasn't prepared for my mom's death, which sent my legs rocketing off into a whole other dimension. No, really, I progressed almost overnight. I began to gain one, two pounds a WEEK. That's not an exaggeration. I was barely eating due to the stress of the situation, but my legs were just growing and growing. I wasn't paying much attention to them. I kept buying stretchy pants, but I wasn't buying new tops. Yeah, it didn't even register with me at the time how strange that was. Then my arms joined in on the fun. Come on, now!
Because I wasn't eating more and was exercising the same, I finally scheduled a doctor's appointment. "What's going on with me?" I asked him. He responded with the classic, "Eat less, exercise more." "But I'm not even eating 1400 calories a day." "Oh, I promise you that you are." "No, I'm really not. I use MyFitnessPal and count every calorie." "You're just measuring wrong." It was then that I realized that I needed a new doctor, so I found one.
As my legs got bigger, moving got harder. Finally, I gave up. That's when the rest of me got bigger. I've never completely given up on eating healthfully, but it's definitely gotten harder maintaining a healthy lifestyle. For one thing, exercise of any kind was virtually impossible. And when you're not able to move, your calorie count is just about nil. So ... yeah, I gained weight. I just did. I'm fat now, and I accept that. It's something I'm working on.
Anyway.
Then yesterday, I had my annual checkup with her. My last appointment with her was a year ago, and that one didn't go so well. First, she fat-shamed me and spent half the appointment trying to find a fat-related disease for me to have (spoiler: I don't have one). Then, she tried to pressure me into a mammogram even though I am nowhere near 50 and have no risk factors beyond my fat, so I'm really at an average risk and shouldn't need one until 50 unless I want to go through unnecessary tests, biopsies, etc.
Yesterday was the same song and dance with an extra dollop of fat-shaming PLUS a healthy dose of praise for my "weight loss," which wasn't really weight loss at all since it was liposuction. OH! And she always insists on taking my blood pressure in my upper arms, which is horribly, horribly painful for me due to the lipedema. She then wrote an order for me to get a mammogram because I'm "high-risk."
I spent the rest of the day crying. I have felt so incredibly good since my last surgery. I've been working towards getting back to ME. I've been rediscovering my active, healthy lifestyle and enjoying everything I used to enjoy only to get kicked in the teeth by this woman who thinks she knows what my problem is (hint: No, it's NOT laziness and gluttony. It's a fucking disease).
I think it's time to find a new doctor.
Because here's the deal. I have had this disease for more than 30 years. It was not diagnosed for most of that time. Had it BEEN diagnosed, I never would have GOTTEN fat. I'd have been treated decades ago. And then I'd have been one of those smug, self-satisfied snots who walks around feeling superior to everyone else because I stayed skinny with my amazing powers of exercise and diet. Oh yes, I would have! But I wasn't diagnosed because neither my current nor any of my former doctors had ever recognized or heard of lipedema.
And you know what? I don't really fault them for that. But here's what I do fault her for. Not acknowledging or educating herself on it now that she HAS heard of it. She has had access to the information for more than two years now, and she's not availed herself of any of it. Instead, she keeps battering me about the head and treating me as though I am the problem, not my disease. Well, guess what? My disease is being treated, and I'm losing weight. I'm not losing weight because I'm suddenly, magically compliant with her recommendations. I'm losing weight because I finally found a doctor who TREATED ME.
That's like praising a diabetic for finally eating right when in reality, he's been eating right all along. He just needed a correct dose of insulin to get the energy from the food into his body's cells.
Well, I just needed functional legs to move my body so that I could expend the proper amount of energy. Now that I can move properly, just you watch.
As I've mentioned previously, I've always been an active person. I haven't always been a thin person, but I have always been active. I do not enjoy leading a sedentary lifestyle, and when my lipedema kicked into high gear and progressed so quickly, it was like a kick in the gut. The idea of being housebound was devastating to me. I could live with my body changing, sure, but to not be able to go hiking or to spend all day wandering in the woods was more than I could bear. The goal of my workout routine was to get back to where I was before all this happened. I knew I wouldn't get there overnight, though. I am still healing, for one thing, but I'm also older, and I still have a lot of lippy fat and regular fat on top of that. I'm a work in progress. I'm being realistic.
So I started with short walks and bike rides. My husband and I have enjoyed seeking out new trails, and he's been challenging me with hills (the jerk!). I've built up to longer distances and more challenging paths. It feels so good to move my muscles and to wake up in the morning feeling just a bit stiff and sore. I'm moving again! I'm feeling like me again! I see a light at the end of the tunnel. Can you imagine how amazing that feels?
When I went to see Dr. Buck for my follow-up visit, I told him that I felt like he gave me my life back. That's about the only way I can explain it. He literally gave me my life back. He returned something that had been stolen from me by this miserable disease. I didn't ask for lipedema. I didn't want it. I'd lived a healthy, happy, vibrant life until my mom died.
People always assume you do something to bring it on yourself. They blame you when things go wrong. I guess it's their way of comforting themselves that it won't happen to them. Fat-shaming is the same -- if you're fat because you ate wrong or were lazy, well, then, of course they'll never get fat because they eat right and exercise. I'm here to tell you that's not always true. I was a vegetarian for a good part of my life, and I never ate processed foods of any kind. (Heck, I had a full-blown eating disorder for 7 years!). I exercised regularly and lived an active life.
This is me at 23/24 weighing a whopping 115# at 5'7".
I wasn't fat. But I had fat legs.
I did not bring lipedema on myself. Why do I say that? Well, because apparently many people still believe that sort of thing. People such as my doctor. Not Dr. Buck. My GP.
My lipedema followed a pretty predictable pattern of progression in many ways. Its onset was at puberty, as most women's is. But I stayed in stage one until I became pregnant. I had eight pregnancies altogether, and I progressed slowly but surely to stage two.
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| Check out those giant stems! |
Because I wasn't eating more and was exercising the same, I finally scheduled a doctor's appointment. "What's going on with me?" I asked him. He responded with the classic, "Eat less, exercise more." "But I'm not even eating 1400 calories a day." "Oh, I promise you that you are." "No, I'm really not. I use MyFitnessPal and count every calorie." "You're just measuring wrong." It was then that I realized that I needed a new doctor, so I found one.
As my legs got bigger, moving got harder. Finally, I gave up. That's when the rest of me got bigger. I've never completely given up on eating healthfully, but it's definitely gotten harder maintaining a healthy lifestyle. For one thing, exercise of any kind was virtually impossible. And when you're not able to move, your calorie count is just about nil. So ... yeah, I gained weight. I just did. I'm fat now, and I accept that. It's something I'm working on.
Anyway.
Then yesterday, I had my annual checkup with her. My last appointment with her was a year ago, and that one didn't go so well. First, she fat-shamed me and spent half the appointment trying to find a fat-related disease for me to have (spoiler: I don't have one). Then, she tried to pressure me into a mammogram even though I am nowhere near 50 and have no risk factors beyond my fat, so I'm really at an average risk and shouldn't need one until 50 unless I want to go through unnecessary tests, biopsies, etc.
Yesterday was the same song and dance with an extra dollop of fat-shaming PLUS a healthy dose of praise for my "weight loss," which wasn't really weight loss at all since it was liposuction. OH! And she always insists on taking my blood pressure in my upper arms, which is horribly, horribly painful for me due to the lipedema. She then wrote an order for me to get a mammogram because I'm "high-risk."
I spent the rest of the day crying. I have felt so incredibly good since my last surgery. I've been working towards getting back to ME. I've been rediscovering my active, healthy lifestyle and enjoying everything I used to enjoy only to get kicked in the teeth by this woman who thinks she knows what my problem is (hint: No, it's NOT laziness and gluttony. It's a fucking disease).
I think it's time to find a new doctor.
Because here's the deal. I have had this disease for more than 30 years. It was not diagnosed for most of that time. Had it BEEN diagnosed, I never would have GOTTEN fat. I'd have been treated decades ago. And then I'd have been one of those smug, self-satisfied snots who walks around feeling superior to everyone else because I stayed skinny with my amazing powers of exercise and diet. Oh yes, I would have! But I wasn't diagnosed because neither my current nor any of my former doctors had ever recognized or heard of lipedema.
And you know what? I don't really fault them for that. But here's what I do fault her for. Not acknowledging or educating herself on it now that she HAS heard of it. She has had access to the information for more than two years now, and she's not availed herself of any of it. Instead, she keeps battering me about the head and treating me as though I am the problem, not my disease. Well, guess what? My disease is being treated, and I'm losing weight. I'm not losing weight because I'm suddenly, magically compliant with her recommendations. I'm losing weight because I finally found a doctor who TREATED ME.
That's like praising a diabetic for finally eating right when in reality, he's been eating right all along. He just needed a correct dose of insulin to get the energy from the food into his body's cells.
Well, I just needed functional legs to move my body so that I could expend the proper amount of energy. Now that I can move properly, just you watch.
