Snail mail is infrequent these days, usually consisting of begging letters and unsolicited “free” gifts from charitable organisations. Yesterday, though, I received an actual letter with the following unwelcome news:
In a matter of a few short weeks, my primary care physician will be leaving, so I must start over yet again. The new doctor will be number 6. I do so hate breaking in new doctors!
Truth is, I failed in numbers 1 through 3. By the time I came to consult doctor number 4, I was literally a quivering wreck, but his kindness and understanding helped me to recover my self-confidence. Not long after, he quite suddenly left the practice, leaving me demoralised, but I was very fortunate to find the lady who is my current provider and I shall miss her.
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There is one thing to be thankful for. I no longer need to worry about being threatened with the withholding of drugs to which previous doctors had managed to get me habituated. I very much object to being brow-beaten, which is why I abandoned doctors 2 and 3. After which I weaned myself off the two drugs in question, which I would have done under their care, if they’d approached the matter differently.
When choosing the original doctor, I’d gone for someone closer to my own age and ended up with a tall, angular man who reminded me of Lurch. He gazed into his computer, barely glancing at me and communicating in occasional grunts. Still, I would have stuck with him until he retired, if I had not had issues with his staff.
Again, it was to do with those damn prescriptions. I got tired of being given the runaround, which is another form of bullying. We had words. I left.
Good riddance all around.
Grant nicknamed Lurch’s replacement ‘Doogie’ because he was so young. He lasted through Covid, then I decided to see a woman doctor but from the outset we were a bad fit.
A specialist I was referred to was inconsiderate enough to die on me. Back then, I had been persuaded to see a psychiatrist for problems that turned out to have been caused largely by those same perishing anti-anxiety and pain medications. Given that I was presumably of sensitive disposition, you might expect that the doctor’s demise would be disclosed tactfully.
You would be wrong. His replacement was an odious creature who was downright rude to me, telling me there was no cure for aging. Other sorts of specialist have been rude or unfeeling and I figured it didn’t matter as long as they were efficient, but given this man’s field, I thought it very unprofessional.
So I fired him too. I prefer putting it that way as it makes it appear that I had control of the situation, which I believe a patient deserves.
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All such annoyances become unimportant when I see news reports from Nepal. The disaster occurred in the very place where we crossed the border into Tibet 40 years ago. Such an unfathomable tragedy.
Situations of this sort, wherever they occur, should receive international assistance and if we weren’t pouring obscene amounts of money into illegal wars and vanity projects, far more would be available for such times. Aid develops global alliances and goodwill. It is the right thing, the humane thing for a wealthy, civilised society to do. We should all help one another.
Until recently, at such times, I supported the Red Cross, Medecins Sans Frontieres, or the like. Paltry amounts, I felt, but at least a contribution. It pains me bitterly that I no longer have this “luxury” as I wait for the next tax and insurance increases and a possible cut in social security.
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Never mind this winter’s heating bill.
Perhaps it’s time to move again, to small, more affordable accommodations, now that we have so few cats.
Perish the thought.
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Although we have a ‘nominated’ GP, she only works part-time now because of childcare and family issues. We don’t have a choice which doctor we see at our practice, but fortunately they are all very kind and caring.
I really wouldn’t want to move again. Not unless I had won the lottery and could pay a pricey removal company to come in and pack up all of our things down to the last spoon and ballpoint pen. It ranks with bereavement and divorce for me in terms of stress.
The floods in Nepal/Tibet are a warning about melting glaciers and icecaps. The world is going to see constant disasters like this one, many on a much bigger scale.
Best wishes, Pete.
When someone chooses to become a doctor, is it not because he/she has compassion for people? Or is the reason nowadays that it brings in more money than other ‘normal’ jobs? My heart goes out to the people of Nepal who are going through incredible heartache. Will the richest people in the world offer help or donate money where needed? No, unfortunately, I don’t think so.
That can be such an awful experience for so many reasons. A couple of years ago my longtime Doctor Who I really liked retired in the person she offered in her office. I wasn’t a fan of, so I went to the hospital systems website to research another doctor. It seems they were not taking in a new patient as far as general practitioners. One administrative assistant told me to call on a certain date three weeks from when I talk to her she told me which office to call and that there would be three doctors taking new patients. This would be a good time to get a new doctor. She was absolutely right, good to have insider information and my new doctors is the best doctor I’ve ever had.