Guest guest Posted August 26, 2004 Report Share Posted August 26, 2004 Bragging Rights Anne C. Woodlen I saw Dr. Sean Bain for, oh, six or eight months. In that time, he twice ordered STAT blood tests and did not pick up the results; once ordered a drug that he knew was no longer being marketed; ordered the wrong drug, which made me so sick that I went to the Emergency Room; threw a hissy fit when I went to the ER, and, finally, when I was going through cold-turkey drug withdrawal, he—Dr. Sean Bain, medical school graduate—diagnosed it as emotional. Dr. Paul Cohen—he who rejected medical school in favor of helping people—and I had been working aggressively on the problem on a daily basis, and we were pretty sure it was drug withdrawal. I put that probability before Sean Bain, Dr. Sean Bain. I told him that we thought it was drug withdrawal---I told him hesitantly, politely, mildly—as was my wont in those days with graduates of medical school. He ignored me and—did I mention this?—he had the correct diagnosis placed on the table in front of him, and he rejected it in favor of his diagnosis: emotional. Actually, he said, “It’s either a sleep disorder, or emotional,” so I got myself to Dr. A. Culebras, sleep disorder specialist, with no help from Dr. Bain. Dr. Culebras did his entire interview without looking at me. He did not raise his eyes from my chart, lying open flat on his desk. He asked me question after question—his idea of an interview—and required that my answers be couched in no more than three words—not my idea of an interview. “Do you--?” “Several times a night.” To one question, I answered in a complete, complex sentence, as is my wont. Dr. Culebras froze, sat silently staring at the chart, waited a full cold minute, then repeated the question. Shamed, I gave the three-word answer. And his diagnosis, based on making sure that he didn't hear the whole story? He said I was suffering from an anxiety disorder. I told him I was suffering from drug withdrawal. He told me I had to take more of the narcotic to which I was addicted. Dr. Nasri Nagib Ghaly, a graduate of Cairo University Medical School, with post-graduate studies everywhere from Harvard to China, and a psychiatrist in the area for twenty years, blew a gasket when he heard that Dr. Culebras had diagnosed me with an anxiety disorder. “Is not anxiety! You do not have anxiety disorder!” he yelped. But what was he to know—he was only the specialist in the subject field, and my personal physician for nearly a decade. Why, in heavens name, would a sleep specialist consult with or refer to the patient’s psychiatrist? Don’t we all know, m’dears, that every graduate of medical school, though he be so emotionally incompetent that he cannot make eye contact with his patient, is still the best judge of these matters emotional? Consider Dr. Nathan Keever, also a graduate, but not of a school of medicine. Unlike his father, grandfather and great-grandfather, Nathan Keever could not get admitted to a school of medicine, so he went to a school of osteopathy, supposedly providing a more holistic view of the human being. Dr. Paul Cohen attended all my medical appointments with Dr. Keever. Dr. Paul Cohen is a graduate of Syracuse University’s psychology program, which, among other things—and unlike medical, or even osteopathic, training—requires many hours of practice in psychotherapeutic technique, not to mention an internship. Dr. Paul Cohen, a graduate of the study of psychology, a professional with twenty years experience, and my personal therapist for nearly a dozen years, sat in the same room with Dr. Keever for the six or eight months that he was my physician. Nevertheless, when Dr. Keever wrote the letter kicking me out of his practice, he noted that I had some sort of emotional disorder, he wasn't sure what. And he sure as hell didn't ask the man who did know. We come, finally, to Dr. James Greenwald, who first saw me with a blood pressure of 220/140, and second saw me on inpatient psychiatry. The first time Dr. Greenwald saw me, he was very nice to me because he had not yet heard any of the other doctors opinions about me. The second time, I knew as soon as he walked into the room that he was under the influence of other doctors. Dr. James Greenwald, graduate of medical school, delivered to me in a pseudo-diagnostic tone the results of his assessment. He said, “You have a personality flaw.” No longer one to go meekly in the face of a medical doctor making a psychiatric diagnosis, I asked him what he thought that flaw might be: back it up, bastard; if I’ve got an illness, demonstrate the criteria. His answer? “I don't know.” Dr. Paul Cohen now goes with me to every appointment with Dr. James Greenwald. Dr. Greenwald has not sought to consult with Dr. Cohen on my supposed “emotional” problems—or personality flaws—but Dr. James Greenwald has kept his damn mouth shut in Dr. Cohen’s presence. Medical doctors who receive no training in psychotherapy, and only are taught how to prescribe drugs in their courses in psychiatry, presume to correctly assess psychological illness without referent to the specialists in the field. People who went to medical school, and thereby gave up the capacity for normal affective relationships with others of their species, presume to diagnose dysfunction in those with a normal range of emotions. Men presume to assess emotional illness in women. Decades ago, in The Time Before, Dr. Franklin Grant Reed and I were personal friends. I commented one day on doctors being required to carry the “M.D.” notation on their license plates. He explained that it was not a requirement, but that doctors paid extra to have this acknowledgement. In my naiveté, I spontaneously burst forth, “You mean they're bragging?” Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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