I am so sick of doctors refusing to listen to what I say that I think I’m going to give up on visiting them. Clearly what I say has little to no bearing on their assumptions, so I might as well not go.
In September, my GP told me he wanted me to get an MRI of my brain to make sure that was fine. I said no. I was scheduled anyway, and left with a nearly $600 bill I cannot afford to pay.
He scheduled me for a follow-up with a neurologist for no clear reason. There is a small lesion on my MRI, but it’s very common in women with migraines (especially with auras), and I’m certainly well read on the various treatment options, so it’s not like his personal lack of expertise was detrimental to coming up with possible drug therapies.
The neuro started off quite nice, and seemed to be paying attention to what was coming out of my mouth. I gave him a pretty thorough history. And then came the big moment:
“So you’ve been on Zoloft, for anxiety?”
This question is the last thing I ever want to hear from a doctor. I will never, ever disclose this information again. I will make up an alternate medical history if I have to. This question means my concerns are no longer valid. Once a doctor knows this information, every single fucking thing I might be concerned over, like 4-5 migraines a week, can be attributed to a recurrence of my anxiety–even if I am not anxious beyond a reasonable level because I’m HAVING FOUR OR FIVE MIGRAINES A WEEK.
He asked me a few minutes later if I was stressed, currently. Well, FUCK, yes, I’m stressed. I hate my job, I have no social life, I am physically separated from my girlfriend by a couple continents and the largest ocean on earth, I’m struggling to make ends meet because of a stupid fucking MRI that I didn’t need, my car got hit and runned last week and now I have bills from that to pay, and I’m having four and five migraines a week. OF COURSE I AM STRESSED, ASSHOLE. But because I answer yes, and am not given a chance to elaborate, the answer to curing my migraines is not either of the drugs I was prepared to tolerate as suggestions (one of which is much less shitty than the other, but they were my two preffered choices having researched every single drug used for migraines on the market).
No. I clearly am just anxious and/or depressed again and need a reduction in stress. Have this pill. It will make it better.
“But I’m neither depressed nor particularly anxious,” I point out. “And the last time I took an SSRI, I gained 40 pounds and felt numb emotionally. I am not willing to try an SSRI again because of this. I would possibly consider an SNRI if we have to go down this route. But dulling my reactions to the stress in my life isn’t going to relieve my headaches, because stress isn’t a trigger as far as I can tell from the patterns I see. I told you that the fluorescent lighting at my work is a trigger, that’s why I get them there. Also, even if I bought your theory that stress is my underlying problem to be treated, I don’t want to do that with pills–that’s why I’m in therapy.”
But if you could just lower your stress, I really think–
“NO. I will not take that drug.”
Try some gabapentin, then.
I had dismissed gabapentin from my list of possible stuff to try very early on, and was annoyed that my experience of my migraines was being dismissed for some alternate cause, so I couldn’t remember quite why I rejected it. Then I got home. Now I remember.
These are the common side effects I get to look forward to:
“Back pain; changes in vision (double or blurred vision); clumsiness; constipation; diarrhea; dizziness; drowsiness; dry mouth; nausea; stomach upset; tiredness; vomiting; weight gain.”
The full list of side effects is horrifying. This is also an anti-epileptic, like topamax, which worked for a few months before becoming unbearable in its side effects. I don’t grasp how a different anti-epileptic for NOT SEIZURES is supposed to make any fucking difference.
Because I was already upset that he was ignoring my suggestions of triggers and ways to fix them, I let him write the script, and had it filled on autopilot. Now I have these drugs that I’m terrified to take and a follow up in two months to talk about them.
I never want to practice medicine with an office and patients and all of that bullshit. I think it must make you stupid, and an asshole. Every doctor I’ve seen seems to be–they start off nice, and then stop listening about halfway through and reccomend treatment for something other than why I’m there.
I am not taking this shit. It’s $10 wasted that I really can’t afford to waste, but I refuse to take this horrible medication. And I’m cancelling my follow-up with him, I think. Doctors who can’t be bothered to respond to any of my suggestions do not deserve my business. I just hope I don’t stroke, or kill anyone, from all the migraines.