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I saw my doctor last Monday, it had been three months since my last visit, the visit when I hit my 200 lbs. lost mark.

I’d been feeling like I was gaining weight back, but had no idea I was going to step on the scale and see that I’d gained 19 lbs. back. As if that wasn’t disappointing and depressing enough, my doctor looked at me as if I’d grown a third eye right in front of her.

I’d wanted to ask her about possibly taking a part time job. I explained how I’ve been feeling, the oppressive depression, bad anxiety, severe pain in my knees and hips, that I’ve been tired lately, so tired that I’m napping nearly every afternoon.

When I told her my husband wanted me to look into getting a part time job, that I just didn’t know how I was going to do that, she said, as she typed into her computer, “I think that would be good for you.” I told her I was really scared about doing so, because the last time I took a job I ended up leaving that job with 5 or 6 new diagnoses.

Her head snapped around and she looked at me with a scrunched up face, all distorted. “What?” she asked me. I explained again, going into a little more detail. Again with the scrunched up face.

When I first met her, she had showed me my file, a folder thick with about 2-3 inches of papers in it. She’d admitted she’d not had time to read it all, so was not completely familiar with my history. It occurred to me, sitting there with her, watching her preparing injections for my knees, that she really was not familiar with what I’ve gone through.

I explained to her that if I were to apply for a part time job I should probably have a letter from her explaining that I need reasonable accommodations, that I have limitations, such as not being able to stand or sit for long periods of time, that I can’t lift more than 10 or 15 lbs, that I can’t use a computer screen for extended periods of time because of my eyes.

She said just call her, when I get an interview, she’ll put something together for me.

Even as good a doctor as she’s been for me, I still feel she’s ‘humoring’ me, that when I explain what I’ve been diagnosed with, she’s not taking me seriously. She kept asking me if I needed help with the depression, in the form of a new prescription, someone to talk to. I told her I’d continue as I had been, using the medication she’d already given me, as needed.

I’m actually terrified about trying to take a part time job, after what happened the last time. Too much about my health/pain level is so random and unpredictable. Having a responsibility to be somewhere, working, when I’m miserable is pressure and stress I really don’t need.