When did your doctor completely and utterly roast you?

My female doctor, now retired, once told me I had great birthing hips.

I'm a male.

When I was in middle school until 10th grade, I'd get violent nausea any time I got hungry.

It felt like my stomach was on fire, and I'd miss a lot of school from

feeling like crap, although I was a good student and wasn't falling behind in any way. She agreed to

take me to a gastroenterologist to be checked out. Before agreeing to do an endoscopy, the gastro

accused me of exaggerating because I was a teen girl, and that's apparently just what young

women do. He suggested I was just making up the a teen girl, and that's apparently just what young women do. He suggested

I was just making up the symptoms for attention, and then asked me point blank if I was lying about my

pain level to skip school, and suggested I had a mental health issue I was trying to cover for.

I had freaking gurd and severe acid reflux, as confirmed by the endoscopy he reluctantly agreed to perform on me. Instead of letting it go, the gastro made a point of angrily telling me that I had the stomach of an 80-year-old man, and must have been intentionally eating in a way to F up my stomach. I have a family history of stomach problems, and Gerd. I don't understand why it was so implausible that my brother

could have acid reflux at a young age, but I must be a hysterical liar when I claim to have

the same symptoms in my teens. When I was about four, I got diagnosed with child asthma.

The doctor told my mum it was her fault because she decided to have a child despite having asthma herself.

I'm sure it's not that bad, said the intake nurse at the inpatient psychiatric unit that I was checking myself into after a self-deletion attempt, following an attempt of the unspeakable act on me.

I'm okay. I did a short stay at the inpatient and everyone else who worked there,

and honestly, and maybe more significantly, everyone else who was also staying there,

was kind, thoughtful, helpful, and seemed to be much better at their jobs. And this was about

two years ago now. Things are better, but not perfect. I think that sometimes, that is hard,

especially for people who are in my life. They seem to be waiting for a version of me that is perfectly fine, and I'm not sure she exists anymore. But it is better than it was, most of the time. Sometimes it's harder, or at least similar, but I'm still here, and sometimes being still here is okay being the only success for the day. I have my work, I have my son, I have my

circle of people who really stuck by me, and that's a lot to hold on to. Today we learned that

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