Bad doctor

In the 3.5 years that passed since my diagnosis I have worked with about ten psychiatrists. All of them were psychiatrists-in-training, because that’s how hospitals roll in the Netherlands. Some of them were good. Some of them weren’t.

The worst doctor that I had a “pleasure” of working with had a habit of rolling his eyes when I asked questions. He also didn’t bother listening to what I said, much less remembering it after, dismissed suggestions I came up with and generally treated me appallingly. When I told him I wanted to see another doctor, he responded by saying he didn’t see the need for that. Meaning, he was a judge in the case where he was the accused, and unsurprisingly found himself not guilty. It took a letter to his supervisor, where I detailed all the wrongdoings, mistakes and omissions, to get him off my back and give me a doctor that — shock horror — actually listened to me and worked with me, rather than against me.

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