It is no secret I have fought hard not to let PCOS define me. It is no secret I suffered a SCAD heart attack while thin, causing me to be sent home during a said heart attack because “I didn’t look like someone having a heart attack.”
Fast forward to today. I get the gift of COVID while attending an outdoor music festival. This festival celebrated that I survived 17 units of college while working and being a mom to two kids, well, three by the end of the semester. I attended the festival to start my week off before summer school, and then a facial would end my week. No, instead, I’m writing this post and changing things.
I have done pretty well with my friend COVID. I have not had a fever since Friday am, and other than being tired, I was good. I received the call yesterday that my doctors want me on a prescription called Paxlovid. They said I am considered high risk. I have Fibromuscular Dysplasia and have a dissection in my neck right now. I figure, though, they assume I’m an untreated diabetic because I take metformin and Victoza. So this little visit from COVID now woke my body dysmorphia.
I wish I had the calm in me like those who accept their bodies for how they are. It would be awesome to feel good about my body like Lizzo. I am not anywhere near feeling good about my body. The previous judgment for either being thin or obese has shown me the judgment one can receive based on their body size or physicians not reading an individual’s medical history.
I write this because I don’t want to go to a dark place. I write this because I know I am not the only one who has felt judged by the medical field. I write this because I do not like my body today. I write this because these feelings are not facts. I will keep writing on my journey: the good and the bad. My hope is one day, I can be happy in my skin and not worry about judgment. It looks like it took a COVID medication to get me writing. So be it.