Why I’ve Avoided Doctors

A hospital. Looking ominous. (Image via Lonewolflucha on Flickr)

Let’s face it: doctor’s offices are miserable places.  Sometimes they smell vaguely of pee.  They’re a place where we get jabbed with needles that suck our blood like vampires, scolded for our various bad habits, and get trapped for hours waiting past our scheduled appointment time, thumbing through inspirational stories from issues of Reader’s Digest circa 1989 while some sick guy coughs on us and the Muzak morphs into something sinister.

Sometimes they are places that deliver bad news.  If you’re like me, sometimes you have an experience with medical staff that makes you wary of doctors themselves.

For example: about three years ago, a doctor thought I might have lymphoma.

I had strangely swollen lymph nodes throughout both of my armpits, and one was especially “hard” and ominous-feeling.  My doctor was obviously concerned during my exam, and she ordered me immediately to see a specialist to rule out other issues, have extensive blood work, and have a chest x-ray.  Within a week, I had done all of those things.  The specialist confirmed that he had nothing to add and that it all hinged on these tests.

I waited for word from my original doctor about whether or not I had cancer.  No one called me.  I called the doctor’s office, and they told me the doctor would call me back when there was news.  I waited some more, and the days become a few weeks.  Finally, I called the blood and x-ray labs to make sure my results had been sent over to my doctor: they had been, over a week before.  I called my doctor back and asked to speak with anyone from the medical staff to find out why I hadn’t heard and when I might hear, and was again told the doctor would call when there was news.  No one called.

I was starting to get really concerned.  Why hadn’t I heard anything, since it had been at least a week or two since all my results were sent over?  A few more days passed with no word.  Finally, I called the doctor’s office again, nearing my breaking point.  I requested to schedule another appointment with the doctor so that I could discuss my test results in person, since I was getting no answers over the phone.  Then the most unbelievable thing happened: the assistant refused to let me schedule an appointment, claiming again that the doctor would call when there was news.  I couldn’t believe it.  All my fear, frustration, and confusion over the past weeks came crashing down on me in that moment.

I started sobbing on the phone—something I’ve never done before, ever.  I tried to explain through my tears that I knew the doctor had all of my tests, and I didn’t understand what the hold up was and why I was being prevented from meeting with the doctor to hear this very important medical news.  That got their attention.  Not only did they schedule me another appointment that week, but the head nurse came to the phone and told me that she glanced at my tests and did not see anything immediately concerning.

At my appointment with the doctor, the good news was I did not have lymphoma, or anything else apparently wrong.  She had been waiting to call because she had not heard anything from the other specialist (the nurse called him after my crying jag).

The bad news was that my doctor treated me like a Crazy Patient.  She expressed her “concern” over my mental health for having such an extreme reaction over the phone, asked me if I thought I needed antidepressant medication, and calmly explained that my hysterics had very much upset the office staff (!) and seemed disproportional to the situation. She chided me for not finding another way to get in touch with her, like her direct email, which was “plainly listed” four pages deep into the office’s website.  Her apology was of the “I’m sorry you had such a nuts-o reaction” variety.  I was fuming, having never before felt so small and misunderstood.  I ended up actually apologizing for getting upset on the phone, reassuring her that I wasn’t depressed, and trying to explain how the situation had spiraled.  Later, I had fresh empathy for my own therapy patients with mental health diagnoses, and wondered how dismissed and ignored they must sometimes feel when interacting with doctors.

Ok, that was an overly long story, but it’s an experience that stuck with me.  I’ve continued to go to my yearly gynecologist appointment, but have definitely avoided going for other complaints.  I did go see a doctor, though, about two years ago when I started having a few moments of dizziness several times a day.  The doctor explained that  it was probably inner ear fluid and it would go away soon.  It did.  Problem was, I have been continuing to have a week or two of dizziness periodically ever since then and have never had it checked out.  I have become one of those people that stoically avoids the doctor, even when it probably isn’t a good idea.

In my ongoing efforts to take better care of my health, yesterday I went to a new doctor for the first time to discuss my dizziness, get a check-up, and to test my blood sugar and cholesterol (one of my course assignments for Healthy Living 102).

I was so glad I got a recommendation for a primary care doc, because it was very much an Old-School doctor experience in the best sense of the phrase.  The doctor had her own practice.   There was a ten minute wait, followed by a personable exchange with a warm, funny human being who took her time, listened carefully, and put me at ease.  They drew my blood right away, there in the clinic.  She referred me to a specialist at the vestibular clinic for my dizziness, but was clear that she thought it was probably nothing serious.  I told her about my swollen glands a few years ago, in case it was relevant, but didn’t mention the other doctor’s cancer fears or anything else I’ve told all of you.  She smiled. “Oh, honey.  If you had lymphoma or anything else serious, you’d be dead by now.  There’s nothing like that wrong with you.”  Even so, she carefully checked, to be sure.

Even though I knew my swollen glands three years ago had been nothing serious, her reassurance felt like closure to me.  She did it without even knowing that I needed it and without making me feel silly. This is what doctor’s experiences are supposed to be like.

Sigh. If only all experiences with doctors were McDreamy. He totally looks like he's listening, right?

Having finished graduate training in psychology and working with a lot of medical doctors along the way, I am wiser now about the practice of medicine in general.  I know that doctors are human beings who can make mistakes and should be challenged and questioned.  A good doctor is one who is willing to be challenged and explain their reasoning, to listen, and to refer you elsewhere if they aren’t certain.  I also know that medical school (in my opinion) does not provide sufficient training in reflective listening and validating concerns, things that have been fundamental in my therapy training.  From what I have seen, doctors are trained to question and diagnose, but not to communicate.  There’s a big difference between the two styles.  Thus, there’s going to be a lot of variability in the quality of our interactions with doctors, and we owe it to ourselves to “shop around” to the best of our ability.

After my appointment yesterday, I resolved never to dismiss my own fears about my health, just because a doctor had once been dismissive of me.  I remembered to trust my instincts and judgment, because they tend to be pretty good.  Obviously, there are people who take going to the doctor too far, ranging from those who take antibiotics for every little sniffle to those with serious, diagnosable mental disorders like hypochondriasis.  But I think many of us are like me, tending more to avoid doctors.  I know that some doctor avoidance has to do with insurance and our country’s medical system, but that’s a whole different post.

Coincidentally, yesterday afternoon I happened to catch Fran Drescher on a TiVoed episode of Oprah, who said this about her brief, successful fight with uterine cancer: most any disease is survivable if it’s caught early.  It seems so obvious that the consequences of ignoring slight physical symptoms (missing a major medical problem) are much greater than the consequences of overreacting to a physical symptom (feeling silly and wasting a bit of time and money).  Even so, I think our country is full of people who are afraid of doctors and aren’t being proactive about their health.  I am fortunate to have excellent health insurance, and lots of choices.  Given these facts, I don’t ever want to neglect my health again.  I’m glad to have come to my senses and found a doctor that I can see as a partner in maintaining my health.

This leads me to a few questions:  What have your experiences with doctors been like?  Do you avoid getting your medical concerns checked out either because you are afraid, or because you have had bad experiences with the medical profession?  How do you take responsibility for your own health concerns?