This week is one of those rare weeks where I find myself in limbo, last week was my last appointment with my psychiatrist and next week is my first appointment with a new (potential) psychiatrist.
The last five years I have grown very close to my recent psychiatrist, and I could tell both over email and when we met that he was deeply apologetic that we wouldn’t be able to work together anymore.
After he told me why he was leaving the hospital he was currently working at though, I abandoned all regret and any frustration I may have been harboring. He was making the decision to leave because a group of psychiatrists (the majority) quit after the hospital was implementing new policies to try to make their office visits with patients shorter (mind you, they were already 15 minutes a month) and forcing psychiatrists to pass some patients off to primary care doctors to make room for new clients (among other things).
The first thing I did was blurt out, “um, no I think you’re doing the right thing!” and he looked at me perplexed. Even though his departure from this hospital means we can’t work together anymore, I was thrilled to hear the reason he was leaving.
Obviously I am not thrilled that the hospital is trying to implement policies that treat patients in the mental health arena as little more than cattle that need to be herded in and out as quickly as possible, but I AM thrilled that the mental health professionals acted in such a way as to denounce these efforts and protect the right of their clients to receive proper treatment.
“Most of my clients have responded the same way you just did,” he said to me. Unfortunately, this is just a situation where our doctors leaving us means they are protecting our rights, they are standing up for us (in places we can’t stand up for ourselves) and I am happy to think that if I have to work to find a new psychiatrist (trust me, not an easy task) it is because there are other good, ethical people fighting for me and my rights to be treated fairly.
From what I’ve heard, the hospital has began to backpedal in regard to the new policies they were attempting to implement and while some psychiatrists may be returning to work there, mine isn’t. I don’t blame him, think being put in an environment where major decisions about patient care are being decided by board members (and not their doctors) is ridiculous.
In the last five years I have been down this road twice, finding myself without a psychiatrist (and not of my own accord). The first time was when I was put on the state disability program and was no longer allowed to see my regular doctors. After six months they still had not paired me up with a psychiatrist so I dropped the program. Being able to see my competent doctor through a charity service was a much better investment for me at the time than $200 a month and being able to afford the medications I couldn’t get prescribed without the doctor!
The second time was during the healthcare reform, the psychiatric department at the hospital did not want to accept my medicaid insurance but I managed to pick the one subgroup my psychiatrist was able to accept. After several months I was able to start seeing him again.
To say I am not nervous about finding a new doctor and explaining all the odd quirks about my mental health, about my resistances and intolerances to so many medications, and potentially finding someone who is capable of listening as much as they speak would be… well, a lie. However, I have three things on my side that I didn’t have the last few times I went looking for a psychiatrist.
1. I have insurance. Say what you will about Obama, about politics, I don’t care. Ten, even five years ago in Seattle doctors were lined up to turn me away without having hundreds of dollars to make a deposit before a psych appointment or insurance to cover the appointment. Though I am lumped in with a group of people, many who desperately need psychiatric care (with very few psychiatrists to treat them) I cannot be turned away completely. For that, I am grateful.
2. I know who I am. I know so much more about my symptoms and how they effect me than I did five years ago, and also how my body reacts to medications (generally poorly). Knowing these things makes communicating them much simpler, to say the least.
3. I can tell the difference between a good doctor and a bad doctor. In my life, a pychiatrist is the one person I want to be able to trust explicitly. Luckily, I have also formed bonds with many of the good doctors in the city, each of whom has passed on the names of good doctor colleagues to me in case I might need them. I am not willing to see a doctor who is going to be detrimental to my mental health by being manipulative or uncommunicative. Period.
Ultimately I know all of this is just another situation of fallout coming from the healthcare war that happens every day. As much as I don’t like finding myself in a stressful situation, the fact that it has come around because my doctor is trying to be the best advocate for me that he can be is uplifting.
Thank you, Seattle psychiatrists who have been willing to make big life changes to advocate for better mental health policies. I know I am not alone when I say it is appreciated.