How to be a doctor: Part one of a rant in two parts.
A bit of background. Several years ago, around the time I became a parent for the first time, I thought I might want to see what my health was like and go about trying to improve it. You see, nobody in my family lives very long. My father died at 57, his father at 54, before that they all died in their forties. Almost all my living relatives are young, and all my old relatives are dead. I wanted to see my daughter grow up.
This doctor, the first one I’d seen in several years, was gruff and annoyed by my presence. He gave me some scrips, told me “eat less, exercise more”. This was obviously great advice- pity he didn’t take it, he had a figure like an egg. Each time I visited his office I felt as if I was disturbing his routine. As I had to take off work to get there, it always meant extra effort for me as the work just doesn’t stop. After a couple of years of this, fired.
Doctor #2 was a bit better, at the outset; he was and is my wife’s doctor and I know him to be a decent human capable of compassion. His office staff, on the other hand, left tons to be desired. Each time I visited, I would leave a business card with my cellphone number theron, and ask to be called with any results on my cellphone so I might be informed of any developments immediately. Each and every single time, I got a message on my home answering machine, to this extent: “This is Doctor #2’s office. Please call the office as soon as you can for your test results” This invariably is a message I received on Friday at around 8:00 PM, making for an interesting weekend of anxiety, waiting for his office to open on monday.
“Hello, Dr. #2’s office. Yes, Mr. Rubin, we have your test results back. The doctor wants you to continue taking your medication” For this I agonized all weekend, wondering why I was supposed to call right away. Then there was the time I called to make an appointment:“Hello, Dr. #2’s office. Oh, Mr. Rubin? You want to make an appointment? Are you not going to make the one you have for today? Oh, you didn’t know you had an appointment for today? Ah, here, the doctor made it last week. No, we never call anyone to tell them they have an upcoming apointment. You’re supposed to call.” So, you arranged an appointment for me which I was supposed to know of via osmosis? Fired.
These two doctors were a prime example of what I’d seen in my life from the medical profession. I watched my father suffer and die due to the general lack of concern by the medical profession, and I wanted nothing to do with it. After firing my second doctor in five, six years, I was ready to tell the entire medical profession to pound sand up it’s tight sphincter.
But then there’s my optometrist. Yeah, Dr. M.
Dr. M. is the absolute salt of the earth. His father was an optometrist, and his son is as well. They are all the salt of the damned earth. Dr M. will take you into his examining room, and for the time you are there with him, you have his complete and undivided attention. For all you know, you are his only patient. You never feel rushed, you never feel as if he doesn’t have time for you, and he learns about you and your life so he can help your specific needs. A gem, is Dr. M.
Dr M. is sitting staring into my eyes (remember, sickos, he’s an optometrist!) and I’m relating the story of my most recent physician firing to him. He tells me, hey, you might talk to this guy. He gives me a business card. Someone he knows. Someone he likes. I think, hell, it’s worth a try.
So I go see Dr. #3. So far, so good. He seems to listen to what I have to say, he seems to be a decent guy. He’s a little rushed, but hey, we all have gigs to do, so I cut him some slack and think, I’ll see where this goes.
In a week he has me on a stress treadmill. I weigh 340 lbs, and he wants to see for himself that I’m not going to keel right away. Great, I think, he might actually be interested in taking an active role in my healthcare, and not just being an accidental tourist of my PPO.
Next thing he does is tell me to go have a sleep study (that’s another rant I’ll be working up very soon) which I have been told to do before; so far nobody has given me any indication that there will be any purpose to this. Dr#3 explains that he feels a great deal of my weight problem lies in my sleep apnea. Since I’ve done everything else to lose weight, I think, well, at least here’s someone who can give me a good reason to do it.
So I go have the sleep study. Dig around and find that rant if you like, it’s a good one. The people at the sleep center are after me to go back. I’m not too excited about this. The doctor says, hey, we’ve got the information, we’ll keep it in your file. What? I went through twelve hours of the new, improved spanish inquisition so you could place a document in my file? You ARE shitting me, right?
So this is a solid strike against Doctor #3, and I sort of like him so far, and on the off chance that he(or anyone else with an MD after their name) might read this, here are a few suggestions aimed at helping you connect and not strike out.
- You are NOT God Almighty. No matter what they may have said to you at medical school, You are a human being. You are not better than me, you are not smarter than me, you are simply a person just like me, with a different job than I have.I may not be able to do your job, but I know damned well you can’t do mine. hell, in North America there are only about forty people who do my job.
2)You didn’t go to medical school to become fabulously wealthy. True, if you do your job really well, this is a possible outcome. Whatever thoughts you had in mind when you started school, the fact remains, that the primary purpose of a physician is to help improve the quality of his/her patient’s lives by repairing or improving their health wherever possible. I’m sorry if I don’t have this exactly right, but the idea is sound enough.
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I am not your Job. I am not your career. I am not Case #KBZ-10Troy. I am a human being. I deserve your respect. I am paying you for your advice and your expertise, and I expect to get it in a manner which is useful to me, and which I understand. It is my money, or the money of the insurance company who is acting on my behalf. Earn it.
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If I act a bit odd in your office, remember I am a bit apprehensive. Remember my family history, the Rubins tend not to live long. Am I something of a hypochondriac? sure, remember my father had a fatal heart attack when he was 57. I’m worried about every unexplained ache and pain. Does this give you leave to tell my wife “You certainly have your hands full”. If this is meant in jest, great. Nobody can take a joke better than me. If it is not, and when I confronted you with it you acted as if it was not, it seems a serious breach of professional ethics. Can it. If I want comedy, Sam Kinison is far better, and he’s dead. I want healthcare from you.
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I pay your house payment. I pay your car payment. I put clothes on the backs of your children. I am your source of income, your customer. Other of your patients may feel as though they are stuck with you; I am not. I know I can throw a football into a mall parking lot and hit at least one doctor’s car. There is only one of me. If you don’t answer my questions, act as if you care about me as a person, give me practical advice that I can follow as to how to fix my problems, I’ll pick up the phone book and search through the twenty-eight odd pages of doctors and find another one. And I’ll keep doing so until someone listens to me and helps me. You may be hot shit, mister, but unless you step up to the plate and treat me with the respect I deserve as a paying customer, you’re out. A mediocre physician with a good ear and the ability to help will earn my respect before the first-in-class board certified god’s gift-to-humanity who won’t listen to a “mere patient”
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Don’t give me advice unless it’s advice I can follow. I’m not going to all of a sudden get a job close to home so I can have three hours a day to walk around like some dipstick in a purple haze- I just don’t have time for that, and it’s not going to happen. And look at me. I weigh 340 lbs. Do you think I’ll be able to stick to a reduced-fat reduced-sodium 900 calorie diet? Give me something I can use. Don’t tell me to have a test and then fail to explain the results of that test. Don’t tell me to have a test and then do nothing at all with the results. Explain my options to me. Make time to spend with me, and make the time you spend with me count. I have maybe six total hours of your whole year, on average, make them worthwile for me- you’ll get paid regardless, so why not do your job regardless?
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If I was as late for work as you regularly are for your appointments with ME, I’d be fired on the spot. And I’d find it impossible to get a reccomendation for another job. If your schedule prevents you from fulfilling all your personal and professional obligations, drop a few of them. You can still get bloody wealthy on a couple less patients. We’re all busy trying to make a living, but if I treat my customers as if I’m in too much of a rush to give them the time of day, they’ll go somewhere else. In a new york minute.
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The manufacturers reps for the pharmaceutical companies who fill your office with notepads, pens, clipboards, lunch, perks, etc. etc.etc. are doing what they do so they can make money. They rank right up there with used car salespeople in my book: annoying and disinterested in my health, in fact disinterested in doing anything but pushing their patent potions. Do me a favor. Write me a scrip for something that will work for ME, and not line the pockets of your local representative.
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Be my advocate. If someone you reccomend me to does a test (like the sleep study, covered elsewhere) and does it wrong, or doesn’t do it the way you think is right, don’t make me call them and deal with the BS, call them yourself. Raise the riot act. Fix it. This was your idea, make it right.
I’m sure there are a lot of physicians who are great. There are a few on this board who seem pretty decent. I’m not talking to those.
The entire focus of the medical profession seems to be missing the patient. More, better tests, more, better drugs, more better doctors, but the patient is lost in the shuffle, a manila folder with colorful stickers. If I wasn’t so fat and ugly, my doctor probably would not even recognise me outside his office. I’m really sick to death of it, and there isn’t a damned thing I can do about it, but surf doctors until I find one I like. I’ve about lost my patience for that. If the average business was run the way a doctor runs his practice, they’d be out of business in a week, because consumers will find better providers. People have been conned into believeing that doctors are some noble untouchable profession who are of a different class than us mere mortals, and that we are to bow to their superior knowledge and take everything they hand us with thanks, and oh, by the way, make damned sure to pay the bill on time. Bullshit.
B.