When the Doctor is Afraid

Ah the joys of seeing Specialists. My dermatologist today was afraid to treat me. It took me a while to realize what he had done. “Everything looks normal.” Patches of flesh, pustules, moles that look like the poster children for little melanoma and the remnants of the allergic reaction to Sunblock… all are normal?

He barely skimmed my chart, he didn’t want to touch me or look at me. Instead he said, “In Six months, when the insurance covers another visit come back and see the new dermatological plastic surgeon. He can take care of those moles.” Moles he had declared normal.

I did get a new prescription to try for the Hidradenitis Supprativa. A topical antibiotic and an oral antibiotic. I am about to take the first dose. I had to drain the blisters first. It wasn’t until I was leaving the hospital pharmacy that I snapped onto the problem. It took the strangest behavior I have seen at a hospital for me to click that the entire experience belonged in the Twlight Zone.

I was the invisible doorstop, a woman tried to shoved past me with a cigarette in hand and I blocked her. I didn’t have to move an inch to perform the act, I just had the entire width of the chair. I can’t suck it in, and as I choked on the smoke of her freshly lighted cigarette I let myself snarl. “Put that damned cigarette out. Are you insane? Taking a lighted cigarette into the hospital could be considered assault.” I didn’t have to think about my words, I just let them flow freely as my mind snapped the puzzle pieces into place.

The world had gone mad! The madwoman did thank me for stopping her. She stubbed the cigarette into her hand and continued her journey inside. I shuddered while seeing the odd spiderweb connections between her obvious challenges and the doctor.

I have three rare skin conditions, additional sensitivities, and other conditions that are also genetic and rare which can change how my skin reacts. I understand the doctor not wanting to treat me. I just wish he had been more direct about it. I am not afraid about the moles he left alone, but, I do find it odd he insists I see a plastic surgeon turned dermatologist. I will obediently have the mole cut off by the better man, but, what if he has the same hesitant fear?

I have run into this a few times. This is the cause of my high Doctor Turn Over Rate. They quit working and usually I fire them. They either run out of coping ability, they run out of knowledge, and they stop working. This one at least offered some suggestions but all were redundant, stymied by my allergies. He didn’t even try.

It is disappointing but I have my vanity for a bit longer. After the appointment my Person and I went to see why his check was short and as a result I wound up getting to eat a bit of fast food (yay Del Taco being Gluten Free) and a pair of clip on earrings to supplement my new ear needs. The dermatologist seemed competent but more comfortable with the able bodied woman or man who doesn’t know much about their flesh. He spent most of the appointment condescending about how Moles don’t exist. I let him, and when given the option of having him cut my head-mole down a peg or waiting six months to have it done right? I chose to wait.

What can we do when our doctors fail us in this manner? Sometimes we have to let them fail. He gave up the option of learning, of trying, and now if my head-mole turns out to be an extensive tumor as the one on my face was, the glory of removing a rare and still unnamed type of tissue is not his. It goes to the next doctor. That is a bit of comfort, as not every doctor is emotionally qualified to take on the harder cases.

He only failed me by not being upfront with his comfort level. When a doctor is afraid, it’s okay to let them go. I forget this at times. I forget that a doctor passing up the golden opportunity of treating me can be a good thing. If your doctor is too afraid, they will make more errors. They will take longer to find answers. I know, as you journey from doctor to doctor hunting for answers this feels painful. It is still better to let some doctors pass and to have other doctors treat you. I would rather have a wait of six months than permanent scarring with recurrent surgery because my doctor did not make the right choice.

For the comments section, feel free to add your own experiences with doctors who are afraid and doctors who fail.

Ana Phalaxis- Super Villain!

I made a mistake. I ignored symptoms that could have killed me last week, during an allergic reaction. I have become so used to stifling my own needs through the years of surviving and it nearly killed me. I also have a limited education by my medical staff on how to handle my reactions, most of them writing off my lists of allergies as an attempt to get out of eating food I do not like.

I am not a hypochondriac. I was diagnosed as one when I was a child, because invisible illnesses are very complicated and my mother never told new doctors about the existing diagnoses she had. I have multiple diagnoses that were remade as adults, and only then did she actually believe that these disorders could effect my life.

I was sent to a mental ward for being in pain. This sounds preposterous doesn’t it? Your child is suffering, so, you have her locked up because it must be all in her head. You have her trained in how to lie to herself, so that she will take herself seriously.

I do not personally believe Hypochondria exists. Part of what makes the diagnosis work is that you supposedly get something out of your claims of pain. I never did. I remember telling my mother when my hands hurt, visibly swollen knuckles that would barely bend, and I was told to stop being lazy. This denial and imprisonment escalated changes in my fragile mind, which caused more issues.

Even now, as an adult, I can hardly acknowledge when I need help. I have a caregiver who I still forget to ask to bend and pick things up. I am physically unable to bend over without fainting, yet, I tell myself to not bother him. He is paid for this, which has helped me begin the process of healing, yet, I still hurt myself out of habit.

I did make it do the doctor in time, it took me three days. Three days of being barely able to swallow or breathe, and three days of repeat attacks without exposure. I also could not eat. Then, and only then did I seek medical help. The last time I went to the ER for an allergic reaction was when I was very small, usually I self medicate yet, I also know just how stupid this is.

This time, in the ER I had an experience that woke me up a little. I had a doctor who not only took at least ten minutes of inspecting my body and asking questions about my needs, but, he never once denied that I have severe allergies. Instead, he prescribed the necessary medication to help me heal. He also suggested I try and see an allergist, because the severity of my reaction without eating the food is rare. Most people with food allergies actually have to at least put the food in their mouth or to physically contact the substance.

I have documentation of my reactions changes, and I do not doubt that my primary care physician will send me to an allergist but I do believe that this reaction will change the level of care I receive. Last time I went to an allergist they gave me the blood and skin prick tests, yet they claimed that I did not react to either. Instead of telling me that I do not have allergies, I was told they were merely minor, and nothing to worry about. They took away the epipen, despite my having gone into anaphalactic shock repeatedly in my life. Not once, not twice, but over 20 documented times.

I am only twenty four, and my body rejects so much but, my allergies are not severe? This confused me, yet I did my best to follow orders, though, the doctor turned out to be wrong. There are other tests they could perform to check for allergies, yet, I am hoping this time all it takes is my handing over a list of the foods I react to.

I am still struggling to breathe today, but, I can think once again. My throat is still visibly swollen, but my inhaler for asthma is finally making a difference and I can feel the air in my lungs. The doctors are worried I will develop pneumonia now, though, because my lungs shut down for so long without treatment and even when I went in to see the doctor my heart was responding to the reaction.

I did spend the last few days reading up about allergies, reeducating myself, reinforcing my value and the value of my body and it’s needs. I need to protect myself, I need to love myself, and I need to teach the people around me how to identify anaphalaxis.

Until this experience as an adult, aware that it is not all in my head, I have always thought anaphalaxis meant I had to go to a doctor to survive. My thoughts were wrong. Some people survive anaphalaxis without medical care, though the extreme nature of the reaction does make this often true, there are some reactions that are still Anaphalaxis that do not kill.

In all of the times I have known about being in Anaphalactic shock I did seek doctor’s care, but, the times I have dealt with the symptoms of an attack, the times I have felt my throat starting to swell, my head getting light, and the times that my hives have burned through me, causing fevers and chills? I have no idea how many times I have dealt with that.

I am going to write an educational program with my doctors’ input to teach people about allergies, or I am going to find an existing one and take part in educating myself and others. Education can save myself, and it might make it easier for me to ask for accommodation with my allergies.

I do not want to spend the rest of my life in the apartment, I do not want to have to hide anymore. I have stopped attending too much of life’s fun parts and I miss it.

  • Polls

  • Ye Olde Archives of Fury

  • Top Rated

  • Top Clicks

    • None