Doctors: Quit looking at your watches
Or why I fired my first dermatologist's ass!
In February of 2015, I found this gnarly-looking mole on my upper back. From the first peek, I knew it wasn’t normal—in fact, I was pretty sure it was Melanoma. I thought I may need to find a dermatologist.
A month later, I showed my primary doctor the mole, and he said, “Oh yeah, you definitely need to have that looked at.” So, off I went to search for my first dermatologist.
Another month went by and I finally found someone who could see me without a six-month waiting period. I didn’t know anything about him and didn’t care. Time was the priority at this point.
At my first appointment, he took one look at the mole, said it needed a biopsy, and he also set me up to see a surgeon—even before the biopsy came back. Just by looking at it, he knew it was Melanoma.
Another month goes by. The biopsy comes back. It’s definitely Melanoma, but it’s Stage one—caught extremely early. A two-hour procedure follows. It’s pretty much all done—-at least in my mind.
And here’s where it gets interesting:
A few weeks after the surgery, I have my first follow-up visit with my dermy. He checks out the area, says everything looks great and then he states the ground rules for moving forward:
“For the first six months, I want to see you monthly. I want to make sure everything is clean. The following two visits will be three months apart. At the one-year point, I want to see you twice a year for body checks.”
The monthly visits seemed a bit much to me, but I could spend an hour of my time, once a month to make sure cancer wasn’t coming back. Not a big deal—at least not to me. But, a couple of months in, I had a feeling he wasn’t all that interested or involved anymore. It wasn’t anything in particular that he did, it was more of his attitude.
That brought us to November 2015. My doctor was checking me out when he noticed something on my forehead. He said I had a precancerous mole and I should make an appointment for him to burn it off. I asked him, “When does a precancerous mole turn cancerous?” He responded, “When it does.” It was kind of snarky, but I guess that’s true. I made an appointment for the next week.
When I showed up the following week, he looked surprised and asked why I was there so soon. I reminded him that he said to make an appointment to come in to burn off the mole. He sighed, checked his watch and said come on in. I waited about fifteen minutes for him to return.
He came back with the instrument used to burn the mole, checked his watch again, did the procedure, which took about thirty seconds and said “See you next month.”
I didn't understand what the big deal was. I had an appointment so it wasn't as if I barged in asked him to do it unannounced. But when I left there, I was more than a little pissed at the way I was treated. When I made a few comments about it on Facebook, along with the photo you see at the top, I was told “Find a new doctor.” and “Get a woman.”
Next month’s appointment never came because I DID BOTH!!
After doing some research, I started going to a new dermatologist I lovingly call Dr. Em. She’s really smart, funny, thorough, and empathetic. She actually likes it when I imitate how she does her full-body exam—“A quick peek at the toosh.”
I’ve now been with her for almost nine years. I’ve followed her to a couple of different locations. When I told her I was moving to the north burbs, she said she could recommend a few doctors for me, but I said, “Why would I do that when I love working with you? I can handle two to three trips to the city each year.”
The reason for today’s diatribe is two-fold. First, is that Facebook memories showed me the above photo to let me know that it was exactly nine years ago today that the above event occurred—or as I like to think of it—the day I fired my dermatologist’s ass! But, it’s also a reminder that no one deserves to be treated the way my doctor treated me. Everyone deserves to be treated with respect and given the time that makes you feel comfortable. Remember, you’re paying them for a service. They are working for you. And if that doesn’t happen, you, too can fire your doctor’s ass!!