A miracle

It’s a fucking miracle. There is a doctor in this hellhole that is competent and doesn’t assume the patient is lying as soon as they open their mouths. She knows her medicine but is not short on empathy. I had completely lost hope in medical care, especially male doctors who claim to know, in their superiority, my body better than I know it myself.

They doc didn’t fob me off with a “the problem is your depression meds. You’ll be fine in a few weeks” like that other fucker did for four fucking months. I never have to go back to him again. She didn’t automatically assume that my fat needed a diagnosis. She understand that PCOS is one of those diseases that fucks with the endocrine system at metabolism, unlike that sanctimonious fucker in Singapore who was an endocrinologist and still didn’t understand his speciality. Fuck ya’ll very much

Don’t know how it will work out financially because the shit doctor is free and the fab doctor is very pricey but I will find a way.

Here I am, in Hell, 30 years old and I finally found a doctor that doesn’t patronise me. In general it’s difficult to find male professionals who don’t patronise me no matter how snarky I may be. A male acquaintance who will always disagree with me, agrees with the exact same suggestion coming from a man. Needless to say, I keep banging my head against a brick wall in pointing out the sexism of this and more generally.

So the basic story is that there is still a decent doctor in the world. Now if she can find a cure to insomnia, at her feet I will worship.


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