Why I love my doctor

Throughout all this illness, I've spoken often of my doctor. I have been so lucky to have her. As I've described earlier in this blog, I had some really bad psychiatrists. Then I was in a clinical trial and for 6 months had incredible, world class doctors. At the end of that I couldn't find a doctor who would take me that was on my insurance. The doctors at the study said they would keep seeing me and work with me on rates I could afford but I was moving and 2 hours was too far to drive. So finally my therapist at that time worked out a deal with the psychiatrist that works 3 days per month at the clinic I go to, that she would see me monthly, knew I needed extra availability because of how quickly I cycle and how severe that can be if not stopped, etc.

I liked this doctor from day one because I felt like she was really listening, cared, and was treating me respectfully. One of the assessments she used was something I've given a hundred times and I told her this. Instead of making me do it anyway despite my ability to recite the answers she modified it into something equally hard but different and I saw for the first time that I really have some cognitive deficits, even in just general fund of knowledge. I was so surprised by that.

Over time she always listened to me and what I wanted. There are a few meds I truly fear and she knows that I don't want to take them unless all else has failed. She is totally respectful of that, and also of my reasoning that I am around psychiatric patients and I am able to see what med A does versus med B in a majority of our patients. She also is respectful of my medical knowledge, something not all doctors are. And she has never, ever expressed frustration despite how hard she has to work to keep me stable for even a few months at a time. Even now, when things have gotten bad enough that we're adjusting my meds in increments not usually used, she is totally patient with this.

When I'd been a patient for a few months I started a med that did something I didn't like--gave me a rash, made me sick, something. I left a message. That night at about 10:00 I was shocked when the doctor herself called me and then spent time talking to me, to change things around. Over time I learned she was going to call me a lot.

During recent months talking hasn't been my best form of communication. I was simply too confused there for a long time, and for much of it if I got frustrated or was talking about something frustrating or anxiety producing I would cry and cry. So she told me to email. And in 3 months I have probably emailed with her 25 or 30 times. She has to make time for this, it's not something she gets paid for. And yet she never complains and in fact responded immediately when I emailed today to tell her just that I was doing well and things look like the worst has ended.

My doctor has helped me feel like a person, like I deserved to be taken care of while I was sick. In my work I have seen the same thing I have experienced, that some (many) doctors treat seriously psychiatrically ill people as if the goal is to control the excessive outward symptoms the doctor most doesn't want to see (ie outward signs of psychosis), but they will ignore the patient's request to help them FEEL better. One of the psychiatrists where I work does this all the time. Patients complain of depression, and he'll give an antidepressant, but act as if it is so secondary it doesn't matter. Once the patient's mother had just died, she was dealing with the loss of the use of a limb, and I was the only person she was confiding in. I know she was depressed. But because he didn't read my notes he noted one month that she was grieving and the next that the grief was resolved. It wasn't, and she was still depressed. I know that with my doctor that this never will happen to me.

Well, this isn't the topic I started to write about today. I had something else in mind and when I typed the title this is what popped out. So tomorrow there should be good stuff. Actually, tomorrow is dentist day and I have an absolute horror of the dentist so there may be a lot. And sometime I'll write about the psychologist too. I mumbled something about the existence of this once to him so I'm more uneasy saying much about him; somehow I'll have to change features or something.