Healing the Dealing
with Medical Doctors
In our quest for getting a diagnosis
to salvage our failing health, most of us had quite a rugged journey
as we went from
doc to doc to doc to doc, to
doc, to doc, to doc, to doc
At the best of times, going to see
a medical doctor is a perturbing experience. Add to that a sick, painful
body and foggy mind that must phone to make the appointment while in anxiety
and no short term memory. Having to wait a few weeks before getting in
while we suffer with our concerning symptoms, or, they resolve before we
get there and new concerns crop up. Then there's the driving to the doc's
when we are dreadfully ill, doing an average of forty-five minutes of waiting
in crowded reception rooms, going into the docs examining room... Waiting
... then being granted five minutes. Leaving puzzled... unsatisfied ...
sometimes very angry and then driving all the way back home again.
Now, to that whole ordeal add BRAIN FOG, slow thinking, no short term memory,
maybe getting lost, and anxiety and usually dripping PAIN from all areas
of our body. That's about what it was ... over and over and over again,
just because we wanted to get an honest diagnosis so we could get treatment
for what was ailing us and get on with our lives.
We went in expecting the doc to
have all the answers, to cure us, to be some kind of savior, to be kind
and considerate... We were filled with very high hopes, at first, but also
with some kind of hope each time thereafter, thinking that "this time the
problem would finally be identified."
During our "granted five minutes"
we stumble over our words, or couldn't express what was going on with us,
couldn't focus, couldn't answer docs questions smartly, couldn't describe
the bizarre symptoms, and all the while we tried to avoid sounding crazy.
We were embarrassed because we didn't actually know there was a reason
for our physical afflictions, maybe we didn't even mention the cognitive
symptoms out of fear doc would send us to the psychiatric ward. And, of
course, we looked good, and our symptoms seemed to always fade when under
severe stress. We were anxious for a diagnosis, didn't want to sound like
a hypochondriac. We most certainly didn't want to sound self diagnosing
or even smell like we had been doing research on the web for fear of threading
upon doc's ego, for fear of doc's snide remarks and insults. We threaded
carefully because we felt we needed doc's expertise. But, all doc wanted
to do was to get you out of the office as quickly as possible, preferably
with a prescription to camouflage your symptoms.
After we left the doc writes in
our medical record... "out of it" "confused" "three more insignificant
symptoms" "slurred speech" "red face" "looks healthy" "psychiatric" as
we find out from our records forwarded to the next doc. ....Time after
time we left disappointed because we had just wanted a diagnosis that fit
what was going on with us.
Yet, we persevered. We continue
to pick up our stamina's off the ground and crawl, time and time again,
to get that the "doc experience" simply because we wanted a diagnosis,
a cure and to get on with our lives.
We always knew something was very
wrong and we had thought once we finally got a diagnosis that a little
pill would finally cure us.
And so, we dragged our sore selves
to all kinds of specialists and suffered the torment of medical tests.
In time doc insinuates: It
is all in your head. You've turned into a hypochondriac. You've developed
wrong mental thinking. They embarrass you, try to shame you. Lie to you
and say, "There is no Lyme in this area." "It is impossible to get Lyme
Somewhere along in our quest to
find a diagnosis our personal "doc image" is shattered. It releases our
strong loyalty, our doc worship ...it gives us the power to break ourselves
free of our first doc. It is our perseverance and the love of our bodies
that takes us through the ordeal of finding another doc ... time and time
and time again.
We are insulted, not believed, not
listened to... We have silly test after difficult tests repeated, over
and over again. We meet strange docs, weird docs, docs only in it for the
money, pompous docs, unkind docs, verbally abusive docs and we enable them
just in case this one can give us a diagnosis that fits. In time we grow
emotional callouses, yet, we remained determined to find answers to our
We felt powerless, helpless, ashamed,
not considered, rejected, abandoned, guilty, intimidated and feared for
our future. We didn't know what was happening to our health and nobody
seemed to care enough to identify what had afflicted us, and therefore
no honest diagnosis.
Our symptoms kept getting worse.