Dangerous Compassions

drug dealers

I saw a meme comparing doctors to drug dealers.  I found it provocative and edgy!  Also very true.

So I changed the middle part and made my own meme, my own version.  The yellow background is simple, but I think it’s ok?

drug dealer

Social support is a big factor in health outcomes and well-being, but mainstream medicine feigns science by pretending our health is in isolation, nothing to do with connection and love.

Something as simple as having someone to cook you meals when you’re in too much pain to walk to the store is an easy example of how love can keep us alive.  Let alone someone who might smile at us, say good morning, hug us, or actually care whether we live or die.

Social support is a big reason I like radical mental health.  Admitting that friends make the best medicine is a big deal.  It’s not a metaphor!  Love keeps me as happy as I can be.


As for stress, sometimes I feel like it can kill me.  I need to keep my stress low as possible for my well-being.  You could call me wimpy for that, but I’m being honest.

I’m disabled for a reason.  No joke–I might have different needs and abilities from you.  Other people exist!


Physical activity, sleep, and the foods we eat are a big deal.  Doctors heap a lot of shame on fat people, for the pounds we carry, while paying less attention to behaviors like sleep, foods, and movement.  It’s way easier to heap shame for something that can be seen before their eyes and weighed on a scale.

Doctors assume I have a horrible diet and don’t exercise.  Just looking at me, that don’t know any of that.  It’s funny that I’m seen as the lazy one, for being fat, when they’re the ones who are too full of themselves to ask basic questions.

Last time I saw my doctor, she threatened me toward the end of my appointment that we would need to work on my diet and exercise.  I looked at her like she was a ridiculous person.  I exercise every day,  sometimes for more than an hour–walks, trike, dance, qigong.  Her assumption that I’m fat so I must not move is very sad.


A pill has a purpose, and a good doctor would ask if that purpose is even something I want.  Or maybe I could get that need met in another way.

drug dealers

I’m not saying there’s no place for pills or for drug dealers.  Sometimes pills can be helpful.  I just wish they were one choice of many, and more of a last resort than the go to solution.  I’m not asking for the elimination of pills, just for us to be honest about what we’re doing.

There are side affects, trade offs, and some pills are very damaging to stop using.  Many doctors prescribe intense substances casually, with no thought to what will happen one day when the patient needs to get off the medication.  Who will clean up their puke, comfort them as they shake with withdrawal, or support them as they’re unable to work?

I’d rather not hate on doctors, but they give me a lot of reason to cry by disrespecting me, shaming me, making assumptions about me, and much more deadly problems, like not ordering tests I need because they assume I’m hysterical, a hypochondriac, or making shit up.

Just being a woman, my pain is treated differently from a man’s.  But being crazy, poor, fat, and socially different means I have a lot to overcome.


My blood pressure can be high at the doctor’s office, but Ming as a large cuff and blood pressure machine that was donated.  When he checks my blood pressure at home, it’s fine.

Going to the doctor is one of the most stressful things I do.  But my regular doctor wouldn’t believe that.  She thinks she’s a pleasant, competent, kind person, right?  Would she acknowledge she shames me and gets combative or shuts down if I ask too many questions?  In her mind, she’s a good person.  I’m the difficult one.

I have to do a lot of work to be ok, after a doctor’s appointment.  Two days of recovery, with so much work to heal, is annoying because I could be doing better things with that time.  She doesn’t have to shame me–that’s her choice.

True it would take a lot of effort for her to say no to the system that tells her to disrespect me.  She’d have to see that’s wrong and make a choice to do something different.  It’s easier to go with the flow, and assume that she already knows about my life and habits without having to ask.

I cry, talk to Ming about it, eat nourishing foods, rest extra, clear my schedule for the day before and two days after a doctor’s appointment, make art, and do kind self-talk to counteract the meanness that get inside me.  I try to release it.  A song like this could help!


Thank you for being real about the power in a doctor’s office and wherever you go.  Thank you for admitting what’s going on, and who controls what in you life.

Please make choices to give back power you have that you shouldn’t.  Please respect the people in your life who have less power.

  • kids
  • elders
  • queer people
  • trans people
  • people of color
  • disabled people
  • people who are different socially
  • sex workers
  • homeless people
  • religious people
  • areligious people
  • people who don’t speak much English
  • people who work jobs you think are below you
  • fat people
  • unemployed people
  • people who drool
  • prisoners
  • addicts
  • people with political beliefs different from yours
  • people you find unattractive
  • drug dealers
  • people who make choices you don’t like

Respect doesn’t mean you need to marry someone–just that you see them as directly as possible, understand that you don’t understand, acknowledge their humanity, and treat them with basic kindness, if you can.

When someone badly hurts me, it can be hard to maintain respect.  It’s more of a behavior than a feeling.  Doesn’t matter if I like someone.  It’s a bare minimum of recognizing someone else deserves to live as much as I do.

By Laura-Marie

Good at listening to the noise until it makes sense.

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