“Nutrition will not cure you.”
My endocrinologist interrupted me twice to say this. It has been three months since I started my new diet and lifestyle, and I usually feel like a million bucks compared to the zombie I was before (I need bloodwork to confirm things). I waited, then restated: “What I am trying to say is that I feel better.” He chided me and then said, “We’ll DO the bloodwork, and then you can come in and we’ll chat some more about this.” I got off the phone as quickly as possible.
In frustration, I then asked my OBGYN group for a referral for a brand new endocrinologist, hoping to get a little more of a listening ear from the new doctor. I requested the bloodwork I need along with a second opinion on my case. This doctor was as bad as the first. She scoffed before I was done with my inital sentence: “I was supposed to have surgery but was told I could try nutrition to see if it would help.”
What is the deal? I cannot ask questions, cannot look at options, cannot try the least invasive method first? I must roll over and let you cut out my entire adrenal gland?
I am beginning to realize just how skewed even the most well-meaning doctors can be. I MUST manage them managing me. We’re not in Little House on the Prairie here, with the doctor that cares so much they’ll explain, or their efforts are totally vested in your best options. I trusted these doctors, and they used me to pay their bills with their preferences over my body and the rest of my life. I will forgive them — but I will not hesitate to challenge them ever again. Poor doctors. I know, they truly think they are right. I pity them.
“Resentment is like drinking poison and then hoping it will kill your enemies.” — Nelson Mandela