What do you tell your GP?

[Melusine]

Thanks for sharing your experiences in such detail. I relate to quite a bit of it. Luckily I also have a spouse who can pick up my meds and deal with doctors and pharmacists. She makes a good living, but even she feels the need to dress up semi-expensively when going in person to deal with these people. She has found that if she looks more upper class, that the way she gets treated is far superior. It's amazing the things people have to do just to even attempt getting any sort of fair treatment these days and it's only getting worse by the year.

Hello The4thDimension ,

Your comment might seems trivial, but it is, on the contrary, extremely important. I have learnt, a long time ago, that "putting up appearances" makes an incredible difference on the respect you get from people from all spheres of life.

The problem is, that when you have to consult a doctor or deal with an egocentric pharmacist, that you are often sick, wear yoga pants and that your hair is dirty from all the sweating. Here is another anecdote:

Our GP was a nincompoop who told me, in so many words, that he hated Sundays because that meant he had to work the next day. I badly needed a new doctor; they were, and still are difficult to come by.

Nocturne panic attacks are part of the symptoms of the syndrome that affects me. I was then prescribed PAXIL and it did help, but I would still, at times, wake up in panic, for no reason at all.

That night, anxiety struck especially hard. I had some old Ativan leftover from surgeries. 1 Ativan: feeling worse. I eventually took 4, spacing them 20 minutes. My heart beat was still at 130 and and wanted to crawl out of my skin. I woke my husband so that he could take me to our local ER.

It was winter : minus 20. I was wearing a very lose type of night gown and flip flops. I could not wear a coat, as it made me feel like a prisoner. I had tried to put a bra on, but I could not breathe.  I wrapped a sheet around me and I hid my bra in the folds. hoping that I would eventually be able to get back some form of dignity in my appearance. I sat in the car; but 100 feet on the way, the claustrophobia was unbearable and I walked all the way to the hospital in the snow with my flip-flops and my sheet blowing in the wind. My husband was following with the car.

Never, ever, had I felt so acute a panic. And, of course, I looked like some crazy zombie out of a horror movie.

We got to see a doctor, Dr. L., a very young man.  I would not let him close the door of the office. He looked at me very suspiciously. However, my husband, who was extremely tired, was leaning on the wall and seemed as if he was gong to faint. Dr. L. immediately got worried and game HIM the attention. Well, my DH was wearing proper clothes and a winter coat. He just told Dr. L.  that he was not used to go gallivanting at 3 o'clock in the morning.

Back to me. It's impossible to explain what panic is to someone who has never experienced it. And then, my bra fell out of my sheet. . Embarrassed, I started explaining that I had a very good reason for wearing a loose sheet with a bra hidden in it. Just talking was too big an effort and would increase my anguish.

I new of people who were prescribed Rivotril / clonazepam. I had never taken any but I knew it to be effective for them. I asked Dr. L. if he could give me one for now and maybe a prescription for two more tablets to see me through this crisis. "What?!! What!?  Rivotril? Absolutely not!" "I will increase your dosage of Paxil." 

Most of you here probably know that these antidepressants, even if PAXIL is aimed at controlling anxiety and panic, take over three weeks to reach their full effect. I will not describe here the kind of hell in which I lived for a full week after that. This is when I decided that I would, NEVER AGAIN, be at the mercy of any kind of doctor or medical system. I started researching IOP's and became a regular client.

Now, let's get back to the subject at hand: APPEARANCES.

My friend and neighbour learned of what I had gone through. She was so worried for me that she's literally begged her own GP to take me on in his already too numerous a clientele. He finally accepted and I saw him shortly after. Wouldn't you know it? It was that very good looking young man who had seen me at the ER.

Somehow, even in this different context, he seemed to remember having seen me before, but could not place exactly where. With a big smile, I told him we were both sat on the same Committee at the  local hospital. "Ha, yes! Of course! But still, haven't I seen you somewhere else?"  Of course, when I go to meetings, I'm rather high heels and tailored suits. When I go to for a regular appointment at the doctor, a bit less formal, but nice, shiny hair, subtle and efficient make-up; no yoga pants and certainly no flip-flops. And, of course, my main "selling proposition": a nice smile.
DON'T LOOK SICK! You'll be taken more seriously.
 
I eventually told him that I was that scarecrow who shocked him a the ER three weeks past. He opened big blue eyes and told me he remembered very well and enquired with real interest about how I was doing now!  He was obviously surprised that we were the same person. I hope it was a lesson learned.

Dr. L. is actually a very compassionate person. He is now the family doctor to me and mine. He respects me and we are able to discuss my rather unorthodox medication protocol. 

Still, I will never tell him that I order from the internet. I will be sure to lose his trust forever.

The4thDimension, your wife is a clever lady. I hope she looks good for you too!