Getting old is like playing whack-a-mole. You finish treatment for one ailment and another rears its ugly head, often in response to the treatment for the first ailment. You deal with doctors, and then more doctors, and then medical assistants, nurse practitioners and doctors’ office staff.
When you’re young you have to learn how to deal with employers and husbands and children. When you’re old the care and feeding of the medical profession becomes your vocation.
Like us, doctors are insecure human beings who often have egos as big as a major medical center. They don’t like it very much when you disagree with them or question their treatment plans or talk about them on social media. Unlike us, they’ve spent years In medical school, spent thousands of dollars on their education, may still be in debt, and have to deal with patients like me—amateur medical experts who walk in spouting Dr. Google.
I sympathize, but it’s my life so they’re just going to have to cope.
I usually warn doctors that I write about medicine, which is invariably met with a blank stare. I know what they’re thinking: “Another know-it-all amateur MD. Watch out for this one.” I have an unfortunate (for doctors) tendency to question traditional medical wisdom. And I’m a journalist so if something doesn’t work I write about it—often on social media, which makes me truly unpopular.
Seems doctors, like writers, read their reviews and hate it when you leave a bad one.
Here is an incomplete list of doctors I have pissed off, other doctors I haven’t pissed off yet but probably will at some point, and one really smart doctor who actually figured out what was causing a mysterious ailment.
Dr. L: I recently embarrassed myself by going back to dr. L, an opthalmologist for whom I’d left a bad review. Truth be told, I was desperate and she was the only one I could get an appointment with. The dry eye problem I was visiting for was very different than the cataract lens problem she’d misdiagnosed previously. I figured she could handle something simple. NOT!! Flanked by a couple of staff members, she printed out the review, shoved it in my face and marched me out the door. I was embarrassed but I really couldn’t blame her.
Dr. H. Dr. H, the ophthalmologist who correctly diagnosed my cataract lens problem and operated on me successfully was also pissed at me when I told him I was allergic to the eye drops he prescribed post-surgery. He was an arrogant S.O.B. and didn’t believe me. He only paid attention when I named the offending chemical. Maybe he figured anyone who could even pronounce benzalkonium chloride must know what she’s talking about.
Dr. S. Optometrist. A friend told me to go to her optometrist, Dr. S. for my dry eyes. He sold me an expensive procedure where he squeezed my eyelids with little tweezers, causing intense pain, to drain all the clogged oil glands. I almost passed out. I started looking for another eye doc on the local NextDoor.com page. I’d bet Dr. S. has seen that discussion and I’m now on his shit list.
Dr. M. Oncologist. I am afraid I’ve pissed him off by stopping the genetically targeted miracle cure for lung cancer he prescribed after 3 years on it. After a couple of years, it was clear the pill was going to kill me faster than the cancer. So, I asked if there was an alternative. Yes, he said reluctantly, radiation but it’s not as effective. I opted for radiation. He’s still my doc but I feel our relationship is now strained. He’s not the sweet, caring happy go lucky guy he once was. He’s now giving me stern looks and is all business. I’m not looking forward to my upcoming appointment.
Dr. S. Radiation oncologist: He loves me. And I love him. So far. He sat with me and actually showed me all the scans of my lungs and showed me the little tumor he was going to zap. And he said he thought I could get off toxic cancer meds for a couple of years. He’s now my favorite doc. Radiation was easy peasy. I’m sure he will cease being so friendly if the tumor returns.
Dr. B. Pulmonologist. I’ve gone through a few of these for COPD. I finally wound up with a lovely young doc I actually adore except she keeps prescribing more and more stuff some of which has really nasty side effects. I’m afraid to go back to her and tell her I’ve stopped using some of it because I don’t want to hurt her feelings. Plus I’m afraid she won’t like me anymore either.
Dr. X. Cardiologist. I don’t have one although I should. I failed to follow up after the heart valve replacement I had a few years ago. My bad. The clinic where I got the replacement is pissed because I don’t have a cardiologist and haven’t been getting regular echocardiograms. I can’t face putting another doctor on my panel with even more appointments and onerous tests. Once that gadget is in there it either works or not. If not…well I can’t live forever.
Dr. L. Otolaryngologist. Or ENT, eye, nose and throat doc for those of you who are lucky enough not to be familiar with medical lingo. I was so hoarse for so long from coughing that I thought I’d never speak again. Which might have been a relief for many of my docs. This doc shoved a tube with a camera down my throat, told me there were nodules on my vocal chords. When I asked for a remedy she said, “stop talking.” Not helpful.
Dr. B. ENT, voice specialist. Finally, a brilliant doc who actually diagnosed something. She said the miracle cancer drug was killing off the cilia in my throat which made it impossible to cough up mucus. Which was causing me to lose my voice and making my COPD worse. I was drowning in the stuff. No wonder I couldn’t breathe. That’s why I stopped taking the miracle cancer drug which pissed off my oncologist as I explained above.
Dr. L. Primary doc. A very sweet lady who tries to keep up with my ailments but since no one ever sends her medical records like they’re supposed to, she is often clueless. She’s part of a corporate practice that doesn’t let her see me for more than 15 minutes. Her office staff is a revolving door of truly clueless young people who seem to have wandered in from jobs at the DMV since they retain the same reverence for bureaucracy. She takes my vitals and asks me what prescriptions I need. Unlike my other docs, she respects my medical knowledge. She’s probably so harried that she’s grateful for any help she can get.
My docs don’t talk to each other of course. I’ve read that in some countries they actually collaborate because you’re seen as whole person not a collection of diseases. Now that would constitute a genuine medical miracle.
In the meantime I have to survive with this bunch plus Dr. Google. For how long is anyone’s guess.