When my surgeon told me a diagnosis five years prior could’ve saved my lung, I remember a feeling of complete and utter rage. Because I remembered the five years I spent looking for some kind of reason why I was always coughing, always sick. Most of all, I remembered being consistently told that the reason I was sick was because I was fat.
My doctors treated my fat, rather than investigating the real reason I was sick, and it could’ve killed me.
I Had Cancer – And Medical Fat-Shaming Could Have Killed Me — Everyday Feminism