We Don’t Have To Tolerate Bad Healthcare

When I was in preschool, my doctor prescribed me Ritalin. He said it was this fancy new drug that would help me with my ADHD. I experienced hallucinations. Vivid ones. I saw a beautiful mermaid, and people flying around. So naturally, my parents took me back to the doctor. The doctor said, “it’s impossible for Ritalin to cause that. It’s not one of its side effects.”

He seemed so sure of himself. Anyway, months later, it turns out that Ritalin does, in fact, cause hallucinations in a small number of people, and it was added to the FDA data sheets.

Then there was the time in preschool when I almost went completely deaf. Why? Because my general practitioner felt he could “handle my recurring ear infections” all by himself. Finally, when teachers at the school complained that they felt I couldn’t hear, I got my general practitioner’s blessing (also known as a referral) to see an ENT (ear, nose, and throat) specialist, who discovered that despite my beautiful ability to talk, I could not, in fact, hear.

I had “glue ears,” and they had to put me under the knife and dig out all the dried pus inside my eustachian tubes. Then, after two sets of tubes, they had to remove my tonsils because they were too infected.

Now, at this point, I would’ve found a new doctor for my kid. But my parents were old school: you do what the doctor says and you just listen. As I got older, things only got worse. One day, I was prescribed Strattera. It was one of the “newest drugs.” I was a teenager at this point, on Adderall, and I was unhappy with how short-tempered it made me.

Well, the Strattera was worse. It caused me to fly into rages. Black out rages. I remember seeing a tunnel, and then I don’t remember much of what happened. Again, we went to the doctor. And this time he said “oh that’s a super rare side effect, and I didn’t tell you about it because I didn’t want you to be afraid to try it.”

This man, who was a medical doctor, apparently didn’t believe in informed consent. Still, my parents stayed. Finally when I got to be a teenager, I was prescribed Zoloft, and after it landed me in the hospital I got a referral to see a specialist (a psychiatrist) to handle my “mental health issues” To this day, I’m not sure I had any “mental health issues” beyond being on random cocktails of drugs my entire life, courtesy of my general practitioner and my naive parents.

Ironically, though, this was a good experience. The psychiatrist knew exactly why the Adderall was causing the irritability and put me on two separate medications to manage the side effects, although the Adderall still made me irritable. I loved this doctor, but he moved to Louisiana, leaving me doctor-less.

This was when I told my parents that I flat out am not going back to that general practitioner, ever again, for any reason. I was 16 years old, I knew my rights, and as much as I tried to respect my parents’ wishes, I was not going to be subjected to this doctor anymore for any reason. I could tell you more stories from my college days, like how a misdiagnosed rash led to me nearly dying from anaphylaxis, or my misdiagnosed bacterial bronchitis. Or my horrible first birth experience, that, despite my instincts, I failed to go to a different doctor, and advocate for myself.

I earned my Bachelor’s of Health Science as a young woman because I wanted to be helpful, and I thought, maybe I could make things better. But honestly, I’m not sure you can. And after my internship in healthcare, I discovered that, after all that coursework, I hated it. I worked a stint at Walmart and then got my paralegal certification and worked in the criminal law field before retiring to be a stay-at-home mom.

After I became a stay-at-home mom, I decided to go off all stimulants entirely, and even though I struggle to concentrate, I couldn’t be happier with my lack of anxiety and irritability. I have lots of friends (something I used to struggle with), and I’m much more patient than I used to be.

To this day, I prefer the urgent care clinic, and I only go to get antibiotics that I know I need, and I don’t go to my annual check-ups. I might die sooner, but I just simply don’t want to. It’s too stressful, and I simply don’t want to be there.

But, after I fell pregnant with our second child, and left yet another doctor’s office due to my gut instincts, I recently found an OBGYN that I really like, who actually talks to her patients and communicates in a clear, non-condescending way. And she even discovered that I’m anemic, which explains why I’ve been so cold my entire life!

So maybe I’ll try to find a doctor to do an annual checkup. I know I should. I’m a mom now, and I don’t want to leave them early from this earth for something preventable.

My advice on how to avoid bad doctors? Do your own research, and avoid “experts” who condescendingly call you naive for doing so, or who get angry for you not following their advice immediately, or wanting more testing. If someone tells you that there are “No risks,” that’s a red flag.

Avoid doctors who aren’t willing to try things and can’t give you a real reason why.

You don’t have to resign yourself to being a guinea pig. You don’t have to resign yourself to poor communication or doctors who don’t feel you have the right to make informed decisions. You can actually get up, leave, and find someone else.

No, you’re not crazy. No, you don’t owe anyone an explanation. This is your healthcare, this is your life, and “I simply don’t like this person” or “I don’t have a good feeling around them” is a good enough reason to leave.

You’re a human being who deserves to be treated with respect. And you should remember that, always.

Wrong Speak is a free-expression platform that allows varying viewpoints. All views expressed in this article are the author’s own.