I Wear Lipstick
Both of my kids had neurology appointments this past week. My anxiety always goes up before an appointment because I am never quite sure as to what will be seen as acceptable behavior in the eyes of the almighty doctor. And I am therefore constantly changing my tactics in order to get him to hear my concerns, to hear my kids’ concerns, and to make logical decisions about their treatment. Sounds pretty easy, right? But let me tell you, and I am sure that you already know this if you are a frequent flyer at doctors’ offices, it is never easy.
I can count on one hand the number of successful doctor visits I’ve had in my 38 years; they have been that few and far between. And since I’ve pretty much given up on finding a doctor who will listen well and then prescribe accordingly, I’ve had to resort to all kinds of methods of getting doctors to listen. I’ll outline a few of my most-used tactics below, as well as how they sometimes work and sometimes fall flat on their face. This game isn’t for the faint of heart.
Tactic 1- Bring headphones for the kids so that I can talk freely without them hearing. Does anyone really want their kids to hear the things being said at a neurology appointment? “Well, yes, he’s still anxious all of the time, never sleeps, and is losing friends because he’s so hyper.” Um, no. Not good for their self-esteem. At all. So I encourage my kids (specifically the younger child) to put on headphones and media while I talk about them. And would you like to guess what happens? I’ve had a few understanding nods when I explain to the doctor why my children are wearing headphones. I’ve also gotten lectures on why media is bad for kids. One doctor even had my son remove the headphones so that she could lecture him directly. But more often, I’ve gotten the look that means, “Oh, you’re that kind of mom….the kind that medicates with media. Guess I’ll not be considering the dose increase that you think is needed.”
Tactic 2- Bring my husband because women don’t get listened to. Yep. I said it. Male doctors rarely listen to me. I have to bring my husband (who has been primed ahead of time with all of the points that I know I won’t be able to get across to the male doctor.) Ridiculous.
Tactic 3- Type out my thoughts ahead of time. I have learned to type a page of notes, brief and bullet-pointed, with all of the information that a doctor might need, just in case they don’t listen when I say it. I have had mixed success with this one. One time, I was thanked for the helpful information. Another time, that same doctor made a face at me that lead me to believe he had me pegged as a helicopter mom. And this past time that very SAME doctor skimmed the notes way too quickly, then handed them back and made treatment decisions that reflected that he either hadn’t read the notes or that he just plain did not care what they said.
Tactic 4- Impress the doctor with my credentials. I have noticed that, in spite of the doctors not having the time to listen to me or my children, they seem to have LOTS of time to lecture me on any number of topics. They love to tell me all about what OCD is and isn’t, what a “real” tic looks like, what is “normal” versus clinically significant and on and on and on. I sometimes finally blurt out, “I was a therapist, I have treated patients who experience all of the things you are telling me about, and I know all of this already.” That usually does not go well. At. All. Well, actually, I’ve had a few female doctors alter the time spent with me based on that information. So far, though, I have not had a man do so. They usually get very defensive and erupt something about, “Well, this is my recommendation. Take it or leave it.” Ugh.
Tactic 5- And lastly, and I never thought this day would come, I wear lipstick to appointments. I don’t normally wear make-up. If I walk out of the bathroom with lipstick on, my husband will really wonder what in the world is going on. But, for the doctor whose decisions control so very much of my children’s ability to function at their best levels, I will wear lipstick. If they won’t respect me for my credentials, maybe the opposite will work. I lather on the compliments and pleasantries so that they can feel like the respectable authority figure that they seem to want to be. Does it work? Honestly, not so far. I don’t think I’m a good actress. And the real point here is; I shouldn’t have to be.
So to all of you parents out there who are fighting for your kids every day, keep on fighting. (And be willing to fire doctors when necessary.)
To the doctors out there who have a hard time listening to their patients, just PLEASE try a little harder. Hear what we’re trying to say to you, and listen to our kids. I know that it is not an easy job. Seeing dozens of kids and families every single day is absolutely exhausting, I’m sure. But you hold the power in your hands to help or to harm so many. Use it wisely.
And to the few awesome, amazing doctors I have been fortunate enough to see, thank you. Thank you for listening, thank you for educating respectfully, and thank you for taking the time to put all of your energies into helping. It is so very much appreciated.