By Hannah Reich Berman

At 9:00 a.m. tomorrow morning, I have an appointment with my pulmonary doctor. I do not like to see him. To be more accurate, I do not like him to see me. The man is an exceptionally good doctor. He has helped me to control my asthma, which was out of control for many years prior to my becoming his patient. But this doctor is positively rabid about the topic of body weight.

His intent is not to embarrass me. The man’s motivation for talking to me about being overweight is simply to convince me to slim down. He makes the same declaration each time–that he is preaching to me for my own benefit. It is of little comfort to know that. As I see it, just about everything one does not want to hear is always for one’s own benefit.

The following scenario is how it usually plays out when I am in his examining room. His assistant is a young gal who comes into the room to take my blood pressure, test my oxygen level, and then weigh me. The order in which she performs these tasks is perfect, because if she did the weighing first, my blood pressure would be significantly higher. While she works for the doctor, her allegiance is to me. She is a real pal, probably because she happens to be chubby. I wonder if he makes her nuts about her weight. Or does he just reserve this lecture for patients?

When the assistant weighs me, she always writes down my weight as a few pounds less than what it actually is. Unfortunately, this is one doctor who cannot be fooled. How he does it I have no idea, but he is one savvy dude. Privately, I think of him as Old Eagle Eye, because he takes one look at me, looks at the weight that she recorded in my chart, and then, inevitably, he makes me get on the scale again. He also checks the weight that was listed at the time of my last visit, takes one look at me, and knows immediately that this current weight is incorrect.

“Mrs. Berman, who do you think you are fooling? According to what is written here, you have lost five pounds. Just one look at you, and I know that you have done no such thing.” So, red in the face, I am forced to take off my shoes for the second time and get back on the big iron monster, a.k.a. the scale! That sweet, overweight assistant who weighed me had gone too far. Had she written down a number that indicated a one- or two-pound weight loss, Old Eagle Eye might not have spotted it. But a five-pound loss was too obvious. That man drives me nuts!

Every problem, however, has a solution, and I believe I have found one. I do have one doctor who never bothers me about my weight. There is no mystery to it. Like me, he is a regular Fatty Arbuckle, as my mother used to refer to overweight people. For those unfamiliar with the man, poor Mr. Arbuckle was a silent-film actor who weighed 16 pounds at birth. He remained a large person and went on to lead a very troubled life, dying at the age of 46. But enough about the unfortunate Mr. Arbuckle!

When I make office visits to my chubby doctor, whom I adore, he does not torture me. His assistant is a slim young thing, so I do not expect any cooperation from her. And I do not get any. I know she will write down my weight exactly as it is. But that is fine, because when he looks at the number that she has written in my chart, his only comment is, “Hmmm, I won’t bother you about your weight. But keep trying.” The words are like music to my ears. And as a result, I have just now made a decision: From this day forward, I will make it a priority to see only doctors who are overweight.

Slim doctors are crossed off my list. The next time I have to see a new physician, I will not ask his receptionist if she knows where he went to medical school; I do not care. I will not ask if he graduated first in his class or if he was 219 out of 220; I do not care. I will not ask how long he has been practicing; I do not care about that, either. And I will not ask around for references from friends who might have used this guy; I do not need references. My only question will be, is he heavy?

Tomorrow’s appointment is less than 24 hours away, and I am bracing myself for my visit with Old Eagle Eye. Since I have no intention of looking for another pulmonary doctor, I will just have to deal with what he puts me through tomorrow and every other time he sees me. However, it does not escape my notice that there is another solution: I could go on a diet! I see Old Eagle Eye only once every three months. It is too late for tomorrow’s appointment, but if I got started right now, I might be able to avoid the harangue that he will give me on my next visit to his office. I might try it. That is just the way it is.

Hannah Berman lives in Woodmere and gives private small-group lessons in mah-jongg and canasta. She can be reached at Savtahannah@aol.com or 516-902-3733.

 

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