Bad Medicine
Leaving Dr Badbar
“Leave your GP,” I tell people, all the time. “Don’t put up with shoddy healthcare. You deserve better than that. Go elsewhere. Try somewhere better…”
Yet here am I, looking at a doctor, treating me like this.
“Are my X-ray results back yet?”
*click click* “Yes.”
“…do they show anything?”
“No arthritis,” *not looking up from screen*
“Was there anything else?”
*sigh* “Not really…Just normal wear and tear,” *more random dismissive typing*
“That’s it?”
“Yes.”
So I’m left with my frankly awful shoulder pain.
Asking about my vestibular migraines was even better. “Who diagnosed that?” I handed him the sheet from the doctor at A&E, which I had in my folder. “Well, I’ve never heard of it. Migraines, yes.”
So I hand him the print out from the BMJ about it, headed Frequently Missed, from this July, which he glances at briefly, scan-reads the first two pages of it then makes a dismissive noise and hands me back. He does agree to make me a referral to the headache clinic at Salford though, but I know they are hard to get and are often turned down. He doesn’t tell me that.
I appreciate doctors don’t like a patient turning up with a folder full of printed out bullshit from the internet, but sometimes there aren’t any other options. The G in GP stands for General. You can’t expect them to know every nuance of everything, so it must help to take information along sometimes, if you have it, if only to rule things out. And I’ve been sent away to ‘google things’ countless times now.
I know for instance my postural hypotension (and probable dysautonomia) could be caused by my meds, and any combination of them, but I’ve been taking them for ages, and it’s become worse recently – and what if it isn’t? Most of my meds are quite useful so I’d like to explore other avenues too, before we fuck with the dosages it took ages to get balanced. So there’s another sheaf of papers right there.
And guess what, they’re all things I’ve mentioned before because they run in my mother-cursing family. But have been dismissed out of hand, somehow. For fucking fucks sake. Otherwise I’d know how to pronounce sjogrens by now, at least. And could have warned my daughters about it too.
But apparently that would be too easy.
But still. At least I’ve not got any arthritis in my shoulder. It just hurts like fuck for no bloody bollocking reason then.
So. I am going to change doctors. And yes, probably formally complain about the treatment I received from this last one. Luckily I am fortunate enough to know a very good lady doctor who I not only saw at the walk in before I went to A&E, but I see regularly when she treats my wife – and I get more subsidiary care via those sessions than I do at my own usually scheduled appointments. The level of care and respect I got from being actually treated by her at the walk in almost made me cry it was such a stark contrast to what I’d had before, and I’d thought my usual female doctor ok. But she was actually just non-committal and sympathetic rather than actively engaged. Just utterly disinterested. And I’m seriously unwell now.
I need help.
I’ve reached the point where going upstairs leaves me struggling for breath, but my lung capacity is fine when it was checked. Walking a short distance leaves me exhausted. And I don’t mean half a mile anymore. I mean twenty yards. I mean into the kitchen. Sitting upright is tiring, which is bloody stupid, if you want my opinion. I cannot and will not tolerate this any longer. I want to know what the fuck is going on, because this can’t get worse, now. This is incapacitating, and it’s frightening.
I can see it’s auto-immune, and I know because my mum and my sister and my eldest daughter have auto-immune conditions, so I think I’m in with a strong chance. I’d just like someone to take me seriously. I’d like some tests, please. Soon as, really. I’m bored with lying down. I need to buy a house ffs!
So fingers crossed for new doctor tomorrow, boys and girls and everyone inbetween. Wish me luck because it feels like I need it x
