Not my doctor and not that kind of sick--
Fran's primary care doc and I'm sick of feeling like (no matter how Fran tries) she's not listened to.
But then again, when you only see a patient for 15 minutes or less, how much communication is really possible? Can we really blame her if she's never asked or listened to the important bits about what F is able to withstand, as far as activity goes? ("Can't she work? All kinds of people work in wheelchairs." My response, "Only if a person can handle being in a wheelchair for more than just minutes.")
I forget how many months have passed since Fran first began asking if her pain meds could be upped, but it wasn't until today that her doctor finally said out-loud, that she's not comfortable with doing that. "I can send you to someone who is." And once again, there's our society in a nutshell: We like to think of ourselves as compassionate. In reality? Not so much.
In Toni Bernhard's, How to Be Sick, it's called being a "hot potato".
They can't hand you off fast enough.
No comments:
Post a Comment