Admittedly, I am picky about the doctors I visit, because my medical history is a bit bulky and unusual for my age. I need to feel rapport when I report symptoms because it takes a lot to complain or even get a check-up. Regardless of my experience below, doctors are outstanding human beings – they work hard, long hours, the nature of their profession leaves them at risk for unfair lawsuits or restrictions from practicing, and they spent many years in school to get their degrees, licensing, and credentials. In most instances, doctors know more than the general public, than the average patient, but they are not invincible to mistakes or a flawless source of knowledge – we forget that medical professionals are human and have emotions, expectations, and frustrations like any other person. Their understanding of our bodies is based on test results, the culmination of medical knowledge and research thus far. Their line of work has a greater burden of responsibility because it entails the well-being and mortality of others, and ultimately, those things are out of their hands too.
“Frankly, you have not been here in a few years – usually, patients experiencing such symptoms come here sooner. Surely, it’s not that bad, then.”
I sat for a moment, wide-eyed and unsure how to continue. My doctor heard the catch in my breathing, and waited for me to respond. Anger bridled beneath my calm exterior, but also self-doubt. See, you are a wimp for even coming here, I admonished myself. This will be a waste of time – you shouldn’t have to convince her that you’re not feeling well, corrected my nagging inner voice back.
I kicked my dangling legs self-consciously against the examination table, talking more to the floor than making eye contact.
My voice wavered, though my mind screamed as I said shakily, yet calm, ”I’ve been busy working on my degree, temporarily living in another state, and settling into a job that typically has me there for well over 50 hours a week…I’ve let some things go that should be attended to more often.”
“Well, people who usually have symptoms experience x, y, and z. One of your symptoms is not even on the list.”
I thought, Truly, I’ve been experiencing these symptoms for the past several years. I’m not someone who likes to complain because I feel like I’m always falling apart physically, no matter what I do. To be honest, I would rather not be here – if you tell me I don’t have what I think I do, I’ll feel crazy. If it turns out that I do, I’ll feel triumphant, yet morose. And just because one complaint falls short of the usual symptoms does not mean it doesn’t exist.
Instead, I lamely, almost defensively said, “But I have experienced those symptoms and the only reason I suggest it is because my primary care doctor said it would be a good thing to get checked out.” Internally, I added, Are you trying to screen me out as a hypochondriac, or do you not believe in unconditional positive regard of your patients in the same way that I treat my clients?
She looked at my history and back at me speculatively for a moment before responding, “We will get you checked out anyway, to ease your mind.”
I fully support the medical profession – I believe that doctors truly follow the ethics of non-maleficence in their industry to “do no harm.” However, I also strongly believe in being aware of my homeostatic physical state, of getting a second opinion if my health is on the line. For years, my stubbornness only brought on more severe injuries and diagnoses. Now, I remain stubborn, but acutely aware of my body.
Today’s phone call from the doctor’s secretary confirmed that in most cases, if my body hurts, it does so for a reason worth investigating, rather than ignoring: “Please schedule a CAT scan, the radiology center believes there is something there, but the ultrasound was a bit blurry. They would like you to get it examined shortly.”
