Appointment Mayhem

My first appointment was with the dietitian, and while it was fine, I walked away feeling disappointed. There was nothing personal about it; she just handed me sheets of paper, lists of what to eat and not eat, and told me what protein shakes were best. She told me to stop drinking alcohol, caffeine, and carbonated beverages, and to keep doing what I had already started. I felt good that she said I was ahead of others, but still, I had expected some suggestions based on me—calorie goals, protein goals, something.

As I was leaving the appointment, I checked in at the desk to confirm my next appointment with the mental health counselor. "Oh no, how did you get booked there? She's teaching a workshop then. We have to move you." The receptionist looked at me as if she was expecting a response. I told her that is what I was given. "Well, she's booked out, let's see what I can find." She ended up having to push out my appointment two weeks. I asked if there was any chance to make it sooner. "No."

I was looking forward to my second appointment with the mental health counselor, excited to see what she had to say. I had thought about going to therapy for years to talk about my eating habits, and this was the closest I would get to date. I knew it wasn't going to be therapy, exactly, but it was close. Except, the day of my appointment I received a phone call cancelling it. They had lost power due to construction on the floor below them; a wire had been cut accidentally. While I understood, I was disappointed to have this appointment cancelled, again. They rebooked me out another two weeks, but now my two counseling appointments were just a week apart. The receptionist said she expected this would likely be an issue, and they'd have to move my second appointment out, but she'd leave them and see.

In the meantime, my second dietician appointment came and went, and it felt, once again, like I was being read a script and handed printouts. There was nothing unique to me that was part of it. I left feeling underwhelmed. She commented that it was highly unusual to have back-to-back dietician meetings with no counseling, and that I shouldn't cancel my appointments. I had to tell her that it wasn't me cancelling appointments; it was the program. I felt chastised, even though this wasn't my doing.

At my next appointment, I was to meet with a nurse. I checked in and said who I was meeting with; the receptionist replied, "No, you're meeting with your surgeon." I was taken aback. Did I mix up my appointments? I sat down, nervous now, and opened my notebook. I didn't have all my questions ready for the surgeon. I frantically tried to remember everything I wanted to talk to the surgeon about; normally I'm much more prepared for my appointments. Once I was back in the room with him, he explained that the nurse was out sick, and rather than cancel, since he was free, he decided to meet with me. Phew, at least I didn't screw anything up. But, since I had remembered some of the questions, I took advantage of my time with him. I thanked him for meeting with me and commented that my appointments had already been changed on me twice.

Once my counseling appointment finally arrived in late June, I was lectured on the timing of my appointments, and once again, I had to explain that the cancelations were not my fault, rather it was scheduling issues and cancellations. She looked at the computer screen, and then said something about how the timing was not good. I just shrugged and said, I didn't have any control over these appointments.

The appointment was emotional; I cried as I talked about my past, my eating habits, and my struggles. The counselor listened, and then started commenting, interrupting me as I spoke, offering her own feedback and suggestions. I felt like I wasn't being heard, and I gave up. I listened, nodded, spoke when I was allowed to, and asked if she had names of therapists in the area. Once again, I felt like I was lectured, chastised, and talked down to in the appointment. I left feeling deflated and disappointed. But, I figured, I'd just have to get through one more appointment with her, and I'd be done.

As expected, she moved my final appointment out, it was now the end of July. By that point, I had started therapy, and found a therapist who was also a bariatric patient. She had gone through the same program, but over a decade before me, so some of the players were different. During this final appointment, she asked me if I had done my cardiologist appointment. I asked, "What cardiologist appointment?" No one had mentioned anything to me about needing anything, there was nothing in the app about needing this, I knew nothing. "Oh wait, no, you need a pulmonologist appointment." She informed me that Dr. M's assistant would be in touch with the necessary referral, and that she was putting in a note for her to contact me. OK.

Once I got through my final appointment, I was scheduled for a group workshop, led by none other than my dreaded mental health counselor. Three, weekly, two-hour session with her. I hoped that maybe she'd be better in a group setting.