A Rant, a long time coming

I am no stranger to doctors. I am no stranger to the look they give my tattooed body while I am at their mercy. I am however sick of it, especially now.
For about three years (the same amount of time I've spent on and off addicted to pain medicine) I've been to a plethora of doctors for my neck/shoulder pain.
They've told me I was depressed and added to my anti-depressant. This year alone, they have prescribed Cymbalta, Lyrica, Neurontin and Ibuprofen in ridiculous amounts. I have tried them all and ugh..they make me feel horrible and do not help with the searing/burning/electric pain that shoots from my neck into my shoulder.
My last appt. (last week) the Dr. finally gave in and ordered an M.R.I.
I got the results and it appears that I've had a bulging disk in my neck for a long while, and now it's complete with some sort of tear in the tissue.
I went from no one believing this pain was real, to "You'll need surgery, to repair the tear at least." I was relieved. To have surgery?! No, to be believed. To not be made a joke of. I cannot believe it came to this for someone to believe I was truly in pain, not truly in search of medication. I can't help but wonder if the treatment would be much less invasive, had they listened in the first place.
I live in a place, that regardless of how you carry yourself, how polite and respectful you are or the good you may do for others is shadowed by having many tattoos. I have a Celtic knot on my left wrist and a baby turtle (for Zoe) above that. I have two orchids on each side of my upper chest. One for my sweet aunt that died, and the other for one of the sweetest men I ever knew Ron Capone (you can google him, he won the fifth Grammy ever given to a producer. He produced the Shaft theme song, and Dock of the Bay with Otis Redding,You can hear his voice at the beginning of the song on youtube. He used to be a great friend to me) I have giant fairy wings on my upper back, to symbolise the urge I've always had, to fly away from all this. I also have a large unicorn on my side, from my love of the movie, 'The Last Unicorn', as I have related to that movie for many years.
I suppose my point is, I have NO negativity etched into my skin, no evil or ugly beings anywhere on my body. It's flowers and baby animals and butterflies and sun, moons and stars. Things that are beautiful to me. To others it is a lifetime of 'marking' myself and self mutilation. They are entitled to their opinion, but not entitled to deny me true medical help, due to their opinion, of how I look.
I know this is not the case a bit further north, west even. Even in Dallas and Houston TX, I fit right in, no one gawking at 'the tattooed woman', maybe a lot of questions, but not rude ones.
My mother used to believe that others were only curious, and saw me as she did, and perhaps I was a little too sensitive about it. When we went to Jefferson, the way I was looked at and stared at made her angry, and she threatened to ask the next person who sat, arms-crossed gawking, if they wanted an autograph. She finally understood what I go through every day, when I leave my little bubble.
I usually take it in stride. I ask God to bless those that choose to judge others so harshly, based solely upon the way they look.
Since my bulging disk diagnosis, I have been depressed. I have rolled over in my head my begging of the doctors to take my pain seriously, and looks they give me, and seeming relief at me leaving their office.
Let me tell you some of the physical aspects of this. I have days, where I must lay flat on the floor for hours at a time, to quiet the burning spasms radiating around my neck and shoulder. I have lifted groceries only to have a white searing pain go down my spine and cause me to drop them. I've been accused of being lazy when I couldn't get all the housework done. I was depressed then and I could not explain to the people around me, that there was something wrong, that wasn't going to just go away. They knew I had seen doctors about this, but there feelings on it coincided with the Dr's. If they thought it was all in my head, most of the people around me did too. I became dependant on pain pills, because it was the easiest way, to not hurt, and get things done, pick up L.O. and have people have faith in me again. It became my secret at times. It has really affected my life.
All this, and the death of my precious girl in the middle of it all, seemed more than I was capable of. I beat myself up about, but took, the pills, did my motherly, girlfriendly, housekeeperly duty. That was fine, for everyone but me.
So, now it's been brought to light. I have appointments and lab work and probably surgery. It was never just in my head, and I want to scream,"I told you, why couldn't you have only listened?!.
So, no deep sea fishing for me this year. Maybe no beach either. I may miss out on all the things that take me away from my area of the world where I can be me, and at peace. Wedding plans for K and I? On hold.
Basically, when I got my tattoos, I believed that by the time I was older, the stigma attached to them would disappear. It did not, and I'm so angry that I have to be discriminated against.
I've never committed a crime/stole from anyone/not taken care of my child/ren/ never been a drug addict, and yet, I may as well have, all because of the color of my skin. While I'm fully aware, that I was not born with my tattoos, but I can't change them now. They are completely legal, yet you're treated like a criminal around here.
My surgeon called just now. I have an appointment on the 7th of July. When I asked the nurse about pain management until my appointment, she said my family doctor would arrange it. I called them and asked about it. They haven't called back. when she does I feel like her response will sting.
Alright, I've ranted long enough. I really wanted to ask a question from some of you guys, my friends. How are the heavily tattooed people looked at/treated in the area you live in? I would love to know that there is hope for fitting in somewhere on this earth.