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The Heroic Medical Professionals of New Orleans---and then there's Dr. Zed. Paging Dr. Zed! Um.... never mind!
It's impossible to overstate how much I admire the medical people who are there on the scene. Their role in lessening the death toll and giving some people whose plights would otherwise be hopeless a fighting chance cannot be overstated.
Which made my friend Jane's experience yesterday all the more difficult for me to process. Jane was recently diagnosed with a certain chronic but non-life-threatening neurological disorder. To control it, she must take medication (probably for the rest of her life) that affects her concentration and, to a certain extent, her short-term memory. She's been most depressed. As an epileptic myself, I understand the depression.
Her neurologist didn't want to discuss the depression since, according to her, it is 'not one of the side effects' of Jane's medication. Instead, she referred Jane to a psychiatrist---not for 'talk therapy' so much as to oversee the administration of drugs to control the depression. (Selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors, yay!) Yesterday, Jane got a call back from the quack in question. (DISCLAIMER:. I use the word 'quack' strictly in the British senses, as a generic term for 'doctor,' and because I couldn't resist the phrase 'quack in question.' Dr. Z has sterling credentials and the highest qualifications.)
Jane called me, voice trembling halfway between hysterical giggling and hysterical tears, to tell me about the conversation. "This is Dr. Zed (not his/her real name)," said the Q in Q. "I received your call. What is this in reference to?" Jane explained that her neurologist had suggested that she see Dr. Z. "Are you taking new patients?" Jane asked.
"Yes," said Dr. Z briefly. "But first, I need to find out how you are going to pay. What sort of insurance do you have?"
Jane, who is sensitive, said, "I almost fell over. I mean, what am I supposed to think of a doctor whose very first concern is money? He/she didn't even have the decency or the civility to try to sound interested, or concerned, or make any attempt whatsoever to convey that once we got that settled, he/she would regard me as something more than a check from the insurance company. But anyway, I told him/her because it matters to me as well----I won't go to someone my insurance won't pay for. I said, "I have [name of insurance plan]. Are you a provider?"
"Yes," said Dr. Z---again curtly. "Do you know what portion it will pay? Are you the policy holder?"
Jane said, "Yes, I am. I am the policy holder. I am positive that my insurance covers it. If you are on the plan, as you say, it will pay 90%. I am a professor at (name of College) and I can pay for your services even if they won't. Will that do?"
"I'll have to check. Could you give me your insurance number?"
Jane, seething now, provided him/her with her insurance information.
"Where did you say you are employed?"
Jane told him/her again. "I'll get back to you and let you know," said Dr. Z.
"Let me know.....what, exactly? If I qualify?" Jane said. She was being sarcastic, but it didn't matter because Dr. Z had hung up.
"You're not going to let this person treat you, are you?" I asked disbelievingly. "I mean...you're not, right? Did you tell him/her when he/she called back that you would not be requiring his/her services?"
"No, because I didn't hear back," said Jane. "I guess I will hear on Tuesday."
"And you'll tell him/her to piss off, right?" I asked. "I mean, damn, Jane. That's just...... you'll tell him/her why, right? Right??"
Jane sighed. "I am pretty desperate," she said. "And I imagine I won't hear anything before Tuesday. I really need to get started on some sort of medication. I am having a lot of trouble getting on top of my work. But after I've got a prescription, and I've got my head together again, I will definitely share my thoughts with Dr. Z. And you know me."
I do. When fully functional, she is amply capable of administering a thorough moral drubbing in a few well-chosen words. She has that gift.
How can some doctors (my brother is one) be so good and courageous (my brother is good and courageous) and others be like this eminently qualified but abominably rude Zed? And even more to the point, why do people put up with it? Medical personnel---including those who are not doctors---include some of the rudest service people on the planet. Why do we let them get away with it? Why don't we complain? Shop around?
And yes, I know that doctors, lawyers, and other professionals need to make a living. My dad, an optometrist, used to say, "I have nothing to sell but my time." But he would never have initiated a doctor/patient relationship by dickering with his patients. He liked to be paid as much as the next person, but he knew damn well that professional behavior requires you to behave as if getting paid was the last thing on your mind. He had the grace to make his patients feel that helping them was his first priority.
I think most patients would be perfectly happy if the doctor would just pretend.
RELATED POSTINGS:
Epilepsy. It’s Like this: Bzzzzt!
Antic Panic.
Paging Dr. Zed!
Your Health Care Provider Secretly Hates You: The Unbearable Hostility of Hospital Waiting Rooms.
Image drawn by Mr. Tenniel; painted by Damozel!
7:50:45 PM 
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