(I have made an appointment with my general practitioner, as I have developed a skin condition on my foot that I want checked out. Please note that I am definitely overweight, but not in any way obese, and the doctor himself is visibly much more overweight than I am. When I am called through, he listens to my concern, then pulls out this gem:)

Doctor: “How much do you weigh?”

Me: *confused, but assuming this is part of the normal health assessment* “Um, about [weight].”

Doctor: “Okay, and what birth control are you using?”

Me: *now assuming the problem could be a side effect of some birth control types* “Oh, none. I’m not in a relationship, but if I were, we’d probably use condoms.”

Doctor: “Oh, good. You know, you really are quite overweight. It’s good you’re not sexually active. At your weight, if you fell pregnant, I’d have to force you to have an abortion.”

(This statement shocked me so badly that I froze and just sat, staring at him, as he lectured me about my weight. He advised me to try taking very small bites of my food, telling me that this method worked great for him. I left, still in a state of shock, and then realised that he did not address the problem with my feet. Another doctor later confirmed it was eczema.)

(I’m the dumb patient in this story. I’m at the doctor’s office getting looked at for severe flu symptoms. I’m somewhat socially awkward, and lately have been trying to practice my small talk.)

Doctor: “So, how are you doing?”

Me: *automatic response* “Good. How are you?”

(There is a pause and the doctor shoots me a “Really?” look, as I’m sick as a dog.)

Me: “Well, not good good.”

Doctor: *jokingly* “Yeah, I think I’m probably doing better than you are right now.”

(I have been diagnosed with uterine cancer, and am scheduled to have a complete hysterectomy. Unfortunately, two days before the surgery, I have emergency hernia surgery. I tell the doctor performing the hernia surgery about the cancer. When I go in for my first follow-up, he says that everything is looking good.)

Doctor: “While I was in there, I reached down and felt your uterus; it really is enlarged.”

Me: “Uh… Thanks, that’s interesting.”

(As I’m leaving, the full import of what he said finally hits. My hernia incision is above my belly button, and he REACHED DOWN INSIDE ME, and felt my uterus. I later tell a nurse about this, and her response?)

Nurse: “Surgeons are a curious lot.”

(The hysterectomy went well, and I am now cancer-free.)

CONTENT WARNING: This story contains content of a medical nature. It is not intended as medical advice.

(I’ve suffered from cold sores for about six years, and normally I only get two or three a year. Over the last six months, I have had them repeatedly, one after the other, so I decide to go to my doctor. I make an appointment, but I have to wait three weeks for it — this is a pretty normal wait time for an appointment in my area.)

Me: “I read on the NHS website that if cold sores get this bad and persistent, there’s a medication that can help to treat it.”

Doctor #1: “Why do you think you need a prescription medicine? That’s pretty drastic.”

Me: “I’ve had non-stop cold sores for six months, and that isn’t normal. The creams from the pharmacy aren’t working.”

Doctor #1: “Yes, but lots of things cause cold sores. Sunlight, poor diet, being on your period.”

Me: “Well, I haven’t been on my period for six straight months! My diet hasn’t changed, and it’s winter, so I haven’t been in the sun.”

Doctor #1: “It could be a response to an infection. I’ll send you for a blood test, but I don’t want to give you tablets for something so minor.”

(It takes a week to get the paperwork for the blood test — it has to be done at the hospital — a week for me to be able to get my blood tested, and another week before the results come back. I then have to wait another two weeks to see my doctor to discuss the results.)

Doctor #1: “Your tests showed elevated white blood cells, which is a sign of infection. But I think it’s a false positive, so I’ll send you for another blood test.”

Me: “What makes you think it’s false? You said it could be an infection.”

Doctor #1: “Well, I think you did have an infection, but it’s gone now. I’ll send you for another one and compare the results.”

(Cue ANOTHER TWO weeks of waiting for the blood test and test results.)

Receptionist: “The doctor says your blood test came back normal and he doesn’t need to see you. He says there’s nothing he can do.”

Me: “What?! That’s not right! He hasn’t done anything!”

Receptionist: *quietly speaking to me* “I recommend you see another doctor. They can look at your results and you can get a second opinion.”

(I have to wait ANOTHER THREE weeks to see a second doctor, so by this time it’s been more than eight months of cold sores.)

Doctor #2: “”You’ve had cold sores for EIGHT MONTHS?!”

Me: “It’s been Hell; I’ve had either a sore, a scab, or a scar on my face this whole time. The creams aren’t working, I’ve tried every home remedy on Google, and I don’t know what else to do.”

Doctor #2: “It could be a sign of something serious, but it could be nothing. Let’s have a look at your test results… Are you taking iron?”

Me: “No, why?”

Doctor #2: “Didn’t the other doctor say anything about your iron levels?!”

Me: “He said my blood was normal.”

Doctor #2: “It’s most certainly not normal! You have extremely low iron levels, in both sets of results. There’s a proven link between low iron and mouth sores. You just need to take an iron supplement. And I’ll give you a prescription for the cold sores, so they’ll clear up in a week or less. Your white blood cell count is still up, so I think you may need antibiotics, too.”

(Since I’ve been taking iron, I hardly have cold sores at all. And my infection cleared up, but the doctor said if it hadn’t, it could have developed into sepsis, which can be fatal. Now, whenever I make a doctor’s appointment I specifically say, “Any doctor other than [Doctor #1],” and from what the receptionist has since told me, lots of patients do the same.)

(I go to the doctor due to being on my period for five weeks. The conversation is fairly routine; he asks if I’ve changed my diet and about what my period is normally like — he seems a bit freaked out when I say it is normally only two weeks — but overall it seems to be going well. He then asks if I could be pregnant.)

Me: “I can very safely say I’m not pregnant.”

Doctor: “Oh? What contraception are you using?”

Me: “Asexuality.”

(Normally when I say that, the doctor just nods and continues with questions, or asks if I want to consider long-term birth control “as a precaution,” but otherwise just drops the subject. This guy lost it, ranting about proper birth control and about how I, a 25-year-old woman, “should know better by now.” No, I don’t know what he meant by that. I let him rant for a few minutes, and when he finally calmed down, I said, “It means I’m a virgin.” He blinked, apologised quietly, and gave me some pills for the actual reason I was there. I left after making a note of his name so I could make a complaint.)