Shit List 7/9/09 - rude bloody doctors
May. 7th, 2009 05:23 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
crazyjaneThis is a personal Shit List ... but please, feel free to add your own contributions to the topic. Consider it an open thread. (Ooh, I feel like a 'real' blogger.)
After today, I am changing doctors. I've put up with crap and given him far too many chances, but today was the last straw.
I went there to have my renewal form for a disabled driver's permit filled out. It's pretty much just doing a shorter version of what he did for the original application - tell them I have arthritis in both knees, need a walking stick and need to be close to buildings and have space to open doors fully. No dramas, right?
His first observation was that the arthritis had gotten worse. I mentioned that I was taking some steps to help mitigate the problem, including losing some weight. He smirked, and said that it was time for me to consider lap band surgery. I objected that I'd known too many people who'd suffered infections and all sorts of other complications, which he dismissed as 'just a minority'. Pressing on, I said I'd rather change eating habits than undergo major surgery - to which he replied, "Well, it hasn't worked in 43 years now, has it?"
(He hasn't known me for 43 years. My major weight gain has all been in the last 6 or 7. Even without that, I fail to see why he thought it was necessary to be so goddamn rude.)
After that he asked me to get on the scales. As I was steady myself by holding onto my stick with one hand and the sink with the other, he said "Don't hold onto the sink," and knocked my hand away. He also tried to take the stick away, but I picked it up and held it.
Now, I've got no idea what I weigh - it's something I just don't do. I get depressed, and obsessed about the figures - and frankly, I got too bloody sick of people (like him) using the number as a way of making judgments about my moral fibre. So I was rather surprised to see I had actually lost 12 kilos since the last time he weighed me, about 6 months ago. It's not a big drop, but given I've only recently started looking seriously at reducing my weight, I thought it was a reasonably good thing. Did I get one positive word from him? Not a bloody chance. He almost seemed not to believe it, muttered something about 'a long way to go' and sat down at his desk again.
That stuff alone would have been enough for me to dump him. But it got worse - went from insulting to bloody dangerous.
I take a particular anti-depressant known as a reversible MAO inhibitor. Some time ago, my doctor prescribed me a non-opiate painkiller called Tramadol for when my arthritis pain gets horrible (because, you see, he believes high amounts of codeine are 'bad' - and yes, there's a moral dimension there, too). The last time I had a Tramadol script renewed, he wasn't available, and the doctor who saw me commented on the combination. Apparently the Australian government had recently issued a warning about mixing anti-depressants and Tramadol. Because they work similar ways, they can interact and cause something called 'serotonin syndrome'. Usually it's a mild reaction - confusion, agitation, sweating and mild fever - but it can become severe in a very few cases. She cautioned me about it, but gave me the script anyway, telling me to watch for the symptoms and call a doctor or hospital if I did have the reaction.
Today, I asked my doctor about it. He pooh-poohed the whole thing as 'just a few cases' (see a theme here). When I mentioned I was concerned because I was on a MAO inhibitor he interrupted and said flatly, 'It's not a MAO inhibitor. It's an anti-depressant, not a MAO inhibitor.' Although I tried to correct him - and he even brought up the government warning (which I'd seen last time) - he was adamant. I was not taking a MAO inhibitor, so I didn't need to even think about watching for serotonin syndrome.
(The pharmacist, by contrast, who filled out my scripts for both the anti-depressant and Tramadol, came down and talked to me at length about the interaction, making sure I knew what to watch for.)
So I'm done with him. I'm finished taking his insults, and I'm not willing to compromise my safety. Because I suck at confrontations, I'm going to write a very angry letter setting out exactly why I will be transferring doctors, and demanding that he turn over my history to the new one. And I'm going to make damned sure any friends who need a doctor in this area take their business elsewhere.
After today, I am changing doctors. I've put up with crap and given him far too many chances, but today was the last straw.
I went there to have my renewal form for a disabled driver's permit filled out. It's pretty much just doing a shorter version of what he did for the original application - tell them I have arthritis in both knees, need a walking stick and need to be close to buildings and have space to open doors fully. No dramas, right?
His first observation was that the arthritis had gotten worse. I mentioned that I was taking some steps to help mitigate the problem, including losing some weight. He smirked, and said that it was time for me to consider lap band surgery. I objected that I'd known too many people who'd suffered infections and all sorts of other complications, which he dismissed as 'just a minority'. Pressing on, I said I'd rather change eating habits than undergo major surgery - to which he replied, "Well, it hasn't worked in 43 years now, has it?"
(He hasn't known me for 43 years. My major weight gain has all been in the last 6 or 7. Even without that, I fail to see why he thought it was necessary to be so goddamn rude.)
After that he asked me to get on the scales. As I was steady myself by holding onto my stick with one hand and the sink with the other, he said "Don't hold onto the sink," and knocked my hand away. He also tried to take the stick away, but I picked it up and held it.
Now, I've got no idea what I weigh - it's something I just don't do. I get depressed, and obsessed about the figures - and frankly, I got too bloody sick of people (like him) using the number as a way of making judgments about my moral fibre. So I was rather surprised to see I had actually lost 12 kilos since the last time he weighed me, about 6 months ago. It's not a big drop, but given I've only recently started looking seriously at reducing my weight, I thought it was a reasonably good thing. Did I get one positive word from him? Not a bloody chance. He almost seemed not to believe it, muttered something about 'a long way to go' and sat down at his desk again.
That stuff alone would have been enough for me to dump him. But it got worse - went from insulting to bloody dangerous.
I take a particular anti-depressant known as a reversible MAO inhibitor. Some time ago, my doctor prescribed me a non-opiate painkiller called Tramadol for when my arthritis pain gets horrible (because, you see, he believes high amounts of codeine are 'bad' - and yes, there's a moral dimension there, too). The last time I had a Tramadol script renewed, he wasn't available, and the doctor who saw me commented on the combination. Apparently the Australian government had recently issued a warning about mixing anti-depressants and Tramadol. Because they work similar ways, they can interact and cause something called 'serotonin syndrome'. Usually it's a mild reaction - confusion, agitation, sweating and mild fever - but it can become severe in a very few cases. She cautioned me about it, but gave me the script anyway, telling me to watch for the symptoms and call a doctor or hospital if I did have the reaction.
Today, I asked my doctor about it. He pooh-poohed the whole thing as 'just a few cases' (see a theme here). When I mentioned I was concerned because I was on a MAO inhibitor he interrupted and said flatly, 'It's not a MAO inhibitor. It's an anti-depressant, not a MAO inhibitor.' Although I tried to correct him - and he even brought up the government warning (which I'd seen last time) - he was adamant. I was not taking a MAO inhibitor, so I didn't need to even think about watching for serotonin syndrome.
(The pharmacist, by contrast, who filled out my scripts for both the anti-depressant and Tramadol, came down and talked to me at length about the interaction, making sure I knew what to watch for.)
So I'm done with him. I'm finished taking his insults, and I'm not willing to compromise my safety. Because I suck at confrontations, I'm going to write a very angry letter setting out exactly why I will be transferring doctors, and demanding that he turn over my history to the new one. And I'm going to make damned sure any friends who need a doctor in this area take their business elsewhere.
