My Beef with Medical People

I have a problem with medical personnel, and I'm curious to see how many of my readers have had similar experiences.  I'd love to hear what you have to say.  This is indeed my pet peeve.

My first beef with medical people:  They don't listen.

Several years ago, I went to see a doctor because I was having acute stomach pain.  Since several of my family members had previously had experience with this same type of pain, I told the doctor that I believed I may have gall stones.  I was sent for a series of tests -- and I mean serious testing.  Three weeks later, I received a phone call at work from a doctor I'd never met, who basically told me I was dying of lung cancer.  While I know that it is possible to have lung cancer when you've never smoked in your life, but I also know that's pretty rare.  At any rate, I was obviously quite upset at work, and my cubicle was not at all private, so basically everyone at work came to my rescue.  It was later determined that I just had scar tissue on my lung from several bouts of pneumonia.  When the doctor told me this, I said, "Yep, and I'll bet you've even forgotten what I originally came in here for."  As he began shuffling papers like crazy, I told him not to bother.  I told him that if I really did have gall stones, that they weren't going to miraculously disappear, and that the next time I had an attack, I would just go to the emergency room and have it taken care of that way.  He said, "Oh, no, you don't want to do that."  I told him that's exactly what I wanted to do, and that's exactly what I did two years later.

There was also the time that a doctor prescribed medication for me that literally made me crazy.  I was a raving maniac.  I went back to him and told him that he needed to give me something different because the medicine made me crazy.  He said, "Oh, that should have the opposite effect.  It should make you very mellow."  I told him again (and again), that it made me crazy, and he kept telling me that it shouldn't have that effect.  I finally said, "Look, I don't care what it should do, I'm telling you what it does do, and I'm NOT taking these meds."  He threatened me with cancer if I didn't take them.  So I said, "My children will understand if I die from cancer.  They will not understand if I get up on the freeway driving the wrong direction and take out an entire family with me!"  He left the room, slammed the door, left me sitting there for 20 minutes, and then came back with another doctor who prescribed a different medication (which was much better).

My second beef with medical people:   They are becoming extremely aggressive.

Then there was the time I went in for a PAP smear.  After he yelled at me for not having one for 18 years, he proceeded to tell me that a certain part of my anatomy was red and itchy.  I told him I did not itch.  He argued with me and told me that I indeed had an itch.  I repeated that I had no such problem, and that I didn't care if it was red or not because no one (including me) could see it.  He wrote me a prescription for the nonexistent itch.  I took it from him, ripped it up, and threw it in the garbage.

This brings me to my current problem.  I was recently due for a stool test.  They sent me two stool tests in the mail, and then several letters reminding me to do it.  I finally gave in and did the stool test under duress.  It really bugs me, however, that this stuff goes through the mail.  I mean, I'd hate to be the postal worker who has to deal with my poop if the postage machine accidentally destroys the packaging!

I am also due for a mammogram and PAP smear -- neither of which I have any intention of getting -- mostly because just before I retired I received a voicemail at my place of employment, asking me to call back and schedule the appointment.  I was really ticked!  I called and told them that they needed to call my home number and leave a message on my answering machine.  They have called me a couple of times at home since then, and each time I've told them I don't have the inclination to do that right now.  At least those phone calls were live human beings.   This afternoon I received an automated phone call from my medical care provider telling me that they had information for me, but I had to verify who I was by saying my medical record number into the automated system.  So I had to run to the other room for my purse to find my record number.  After saying my number, the automated system repeated the number correctly, and then proceeded to tell me that it couldn't find any records for me.  I had to say the number again, and the process was repeated that I had no records.  "Please hold while I transfer you to an operator."  After holding, a live voice asked me for the purpose of my call.  "I have no idea!  You called me with your automated system!"  It turns out it was yet another reminder about the tests they want me to have.  With the help of the operator, I have now sent my doctor a nastygram telling him that I don't want his stinking tests, and I doubly don't want any more phone calls (especially the automated ones) about it!

My third beef with medical people:   They blame EVERYTHING on my weight.

I don't care if I go to the doctor for an ingrown toenail, it will be blamed on my weight.  As a kid, everything was blamed on the fact that I was skinny.  Now, it's because I'm "obese."  And what's with that awful term "obese," anyway!  I'm heavy.  Okay?  I'm fat.  Okay?  Obese?!!  Come on!  Way to make me totally depressed!

My fourth beef with medical people:  They think they are God.

I have a right to say how my medical care will be managed.  I have a right to turn down medical care.  I have a right to turn down medication.  By the way, most people in this country are so over-medicated, it saddens me.  A friend of mine who has some medical problems tells her doctors that she will only take six pills a day -- no more.  If they want to give her a new medication, they have to discontinue one.  I'll be 57 years old in December.  I have some arthritis in my hands and feet, which is creeping to my elbows and knees.  Now that I have a metal plate in my right ankle, arthritis is setting in there too.  I've had mild arthritis in my fingers since I was 18 years old.  To date, I have not taken any medication.  If I had decided to take meds at 18 years old, by now I would be immune to every arthritis medication out there.  At some point in the future when I really need to take something, I want it to work.  In the meantime, I run hot water on all sore joints in the morning.  I type and crochet to keep my fingers limber.  I make a point of wiggling my toes throughout the day to keep them limber.

So that's my rant for the day.  I'd be interested to hear if anyone besides me gets as irritated with medical people.