Seeing the doctor alone

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Triple WOW, RevJohn re: your leg. Glad everything worked out okay for you.

Realizing ours is a totally different situation than most adults and children experience, both her father and I attend our daughter's (late twenties) medical appointments. We have found out over the years that she "presents" herself very well others, giving the indication that she is fully understanding of everything they say. She nods her head and says "yes" or "no", but when asked later she isn't able to explain the conversation or directions given. All of her doctors address her and speak to her in the visits, and we encourage her to answer all the questions, only giving comments if asked or she has given incorrect information. We need to be there to adequately plan her next appointments, tests, treatment etc. If this wasn't the situation we would have long ago stopped attending her medical appointments with her.
 
I'm glad I still have the leg. I'm rather attached to it.

I'm happy to say I still have almost all of my original parts. Some teeth needed a little bondo and we had to buff out a meniscus a few years back. Other than that just the ordinary dings and scuffs.

For a while our son needed some extra support which I was happy to provide. He is quite comfortable going on his own now. He has seen more doctors in his lifetime than I had at the same point.
 
It is a reminder tha often the answer is the simplest.

I remember when I was a child we had a light switch in our living room that turned on a lamp. It was awkwardly behind the door and no one ever touched it. It was left on and we turned the lamp on and off by the lamp switch.

My sister once turned off the wall switch. Suddenly the lamp wouldn't work. Dad changed light bulb. No good.

He tried the lamp in another socket, of course it worked fine.

So he took the switch apart. Couldn't get it to work.

Finally looked at the silly switch on the wall and realized it was turned off. Hours of work when the obvious answer was so simple he had never thought of it.


Same with medicine. Simple answer is often the correct one. At least it is the first thing to think about
 
Seeing the patient also helps. RevJohn's story reminds me of my most recent ER trip in some ways. Luckily, mine was much shorter, involved less suffering and I just demanded to see the doctor after declining some treatments and trying another that was stupid and did nothing other than give me symptoms from taking too much ventolin.
 
John, I shivered at your experience. While I am all in favour of giving young people responsibility when they are ready for it, the idea of a thirteen year old not having his parents present (at least some of the times) when he is receiving treatment such as you describe is unthinkable. And to expect a 13 year old to give informed consent to something as life-changing and permanent as a amputation is cruel and ridiculous. It's a lot different than consenting to having a boil lanced, or wax washed out of ears.
 
Seeler said:
the idea of a thirteen year old not having his parents present (at least some of the times) when he is receiving treatment such as you describe is unthinkable.
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Maybe. At the time is was just the doctor and I and every point when a decision was made I had at least a day to think about it.

My Doctor walked me through everything because I was curious and it was the most exciting thing I was permitted to do while in ICU.

He'd be in sometime between 8 and 9:30 to take a look at the wound. He'd tell me it was going to hurt and I'd white knuckle the bed rails while he squeezed as much puss out of my foot as he could.

Hurt like hell and the stuff kept coming and coming. It was like a very macabre soft serve.

We'd discuss progress while I composed myself and calmed down and then he was off to see other patients before he opened his practice for the day.

After lunch I'd have several goes at my foot myself. Why not, the poison had to come out and I'd watched him enough to know what to do. And at 13 you can only lie in bed and eat so much sorbet.

And I'd think about what the spread of infection from my foot to my knee meant and then from my knee to my thigh and my thigh to my hip. If it crossed that line it wouldn't be a fight for my leg it would have been a fight for my life.

I had more skin in the game than anyone else.

Dad had left home 8 years ago. He showed up once in those two weeks and was drunk. So not much actually support.

Mom came by every night and fretted and worried and cried. I didn't find that to be much help either.

By that time in my life I had experiences with greater threats to my well being than an infection. It was actually a comfort to have a problem that acted predictably.

I wasn't alone because my parents didn't care (well that wasn't the reason mom wasn't there dad is another story) I was alone because dad had some serious drinking to do somewhere and mom had to keep her job so that there would be a roof over my head and food in the fridge should I end up having to limp home.

I was the only one available to meet with the doctor in the mornings and like I said he was straight with me and told me what I needed to do and what the bad signs would be.

I wondered what it would be like to play ball on one leg. Would I be able to attend the same school should my leg have to come off.

It simply was what was. The person I really needed at the time was a doctor I could trust (and apparently a doctor who understood a thing or two about medicine) and I had that.
 
Seeler, I was 15 when I went from being healthy, to being described as looking like someone's "arthritic cat" and taking over an hour to walk what should have been a 10min walk. I was admitted to hospital, stayed for a number of weeks, came home, relapsed, and ended up with more local treatment before heading to Sick Kids. In that time, I was completely bedridden for most, undergoing tests, and probes. I had more people look at my buttend at 15, then most people do in their lives.

During that time, I had numerous tests, asked questions, probes, procedures, drugs, and so on.

My parents had lots of calls on their time due to kids, work and demands. My family was not in attendance for 95% of the time there. When in Toronto, my parents tried to come down every couple of days, but, many days I was on my own.

At the time, there were individuals praying for me across the Presbyterian prayer chains...(freaked me out a bit). There was thoughts that I might die or never walk again. I was prepped for back surgery, with no parents present, just staff to help me through but unable to disclose . (it was cancelled at the last minute). I had days that I was in so much pain that I could barely breathe. I had weeks of boredom, and weeks of recovery. I had one awful doctor at Sick Kids (watched a nurse reprimand a doctor for the first time) but overall had amazing doctors and staff. I went in quite a bit before Thanksgiving and came out just in time for Christmas. I was treated for osteomyelitis. (an infection as well, as it turns out). It was where my pelvic bone joined my spine, and was likely a result of a lacrosse ball hitting me in just the right way.

Maybe that is what makes me who I am. I know it makes me thankful for OHIP
Maybe part of what happened to RevJohn makes him who he is.
 
Pinga, I can't imagine what you went through -physically or emotionally. Must have been scary for a young gal.

I agree - our experiences, good and bad, contribute to who we are.
 
Beloved, and I think, how we deal with illness.

RevJohn, do you feel that your experiences of hospitals and care impacted in how you dealt with the medical system as you were seeking help for your son?
 
Pinga said:
RevJohn, do you feel that your experiences of hospitals and care impacted in how you dealt with the medical system as you were seeking help for your son?
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I never thought about it much until you asked.

For starters it taught me the difference between good doctors and bad doctors. It taught me that good doctors don't think highly of bad doctors so I didn't have to worry about getting stuck with a bad doctor. If any doctor assigned ever showed an inability to be a team player I immediately had them removed from my son's care. I wasn't too gentle with either when push came to shove.

Honestly I think that aggression came more from my dad not being present for me much in my life and my own fear that I would not measure up as a father. If I had to knock down some doctors or some educators to prove my ability as a parent it would be no sweat from my brow. One doctor was tremendously offended and for a while we were celebrities in the hospital and around town. The other doctor took it very hard and called me up actually offering to get my son admitted to a very full hospital if I would reconsider. I didn't and when I commented that the bribery with a bed was noted and would be an interesting element in a story with the provincial newspaper I was assured that the bed would still be available for him tomorrow.

A few years later after a very dangerous drive across the province, through a blizzard, in an attempt to catch an ambulance I was way out in front of I knew that the hospital on the other end only agreed to receive my son if a parent would be present to take custody should they fail to admit him. I had a plan to deck somebody and get myself arrested leaving the hospital no choice but to admit. Thankfully it never came to that. The same doctor I had dismissed from my son's care was the on-duty physician and when she saw me come in an hour and a half before the ambulance through that storm she must have noticed I was picking targets to take out.

Robert was younger than I was when everything started and we suspected an early onset of bi-polar disorder so we pushed in that area if only to get somebody to absolutely rule it out. Many scoffed at the notion of an early onset but they would never commit themselves to ruling it out. That betrayed a lack of confidence and meant that no matter what they thought was going on we were going to push them hard on that.

My training in hospitals gave me a better appreciation of how they worked as little kingdoms. My service on hospital boards gave me knowledge of where to go when I was unhappy with services offered. When you are doing chaplaincy you stand around in halls a lot and most hospitals have flowery posters called "A Patient's Bill of Rights" surprisingly hospital administrators put tremendous stock in them and patients or their advocates who can point to a breach in that BIll get attention fast. The fact that I was hard on a few doctors and one hospital probably gave me some name recognition as somebody who knew how to play rough and would do so at the drop of a hat. I managed to impress that upon a school board as well.

I imagine there were more than a few sighs of relief when we finally left the province.

Maybe I should feel somewhat bad about that. I've never felt particularly guilty for advocating for my son aggressively.

I do not dislike doctors nor will I start by disrespecting or distrusting them. That said, my patience wears thing exceedingly fast if they don't have time to answer my questions or won't look me in the eye while answering them. And if I suspect their duty of care is slack I want nothing to do with them nor will I tolerate them attending to a family member
 
If the kid is old/mature enough to ask for privacy and is able to tell the doctor everything the Dr. needs to know I'd respect that.
 
I am always happy I am a nurse when my family needs medical care.

It is a tremendous help to know how to navigate the system, to speak the language, to not be intimidated.

My son was diagnosed with asthma when he was twoish. I knew his paediatrician well from our days working together in ICU. So all was good. He trusted me to handle his care, use meds at my discretion and to know when to get more

But when I had to use the on call doc from his practice I had to revert to technical language in order to get what I needed
 
Pinga and Rev.John - it is always easier to understand when you know the back-story.
Thinking back I don't remember anyone accompanying me to the doctor's office or to the hospital after my mother died when I was barely 14. I was pretty much on my own from then on. Fortunately I don't remember anything worse than being hospitalized for five days with pneumonia, and having a broken tooth pulled in the doctor's office (that hurt).
But when I think of my grandchildren at that age, I can't imagine their mother or I not being there for them. Granddaughter is now 17 and quite mature enough to handle it - but her mother might want to talk to the doctor as well.
At 10 Grandson is not ready but it is probably time to start encouraging him.
 
My kids are teenagers - and I give them the opporutnity to go in on their own. I guess my daughter is at that point mostly, that I would assume I'm just the transportation. She hasn't gone in ages, and last time she mentioned it, I handed her the phone number to make her own appointment.
For my son, I think he needs a few basic easy reasons to get used to the idea, and then off he goes.

Our doc is a cute young lady, which works pretty well for most of us, but I wonder how my son sees that as he is growing up. Hmmm.
 
Birthstone - Seelerman didn't think he would like a female doctor. Then our long time beloved doctor retired - and turned our files (with permission) over to a young, attractive female doctor. He soon became quite comfortable with her, even when she put her hand you-know-where, asked him to cough, and checked his prostate. By then he'd had nurses tending to him whenever a kidney stone presented itself.
Of course it might be different for a teenage male if a young, attractive female doctor had to check his privates. But usually she'll be looking in his ears or checking his sore throat and maybe listening to his chest.
 
I think it makes sense for it to be mandatory for the child to have some time alone with the doctor because there are some parents who won't allow it if it isn't mandatory and the kids often won't feel comfortable talking about sexual issues or drinking or drug use or abuse in front of the parents. In order for the child (especially teens) to get the kind of help they might need, they need to be able to talk to the doctor free from potential consequences of their parents knowing what is going on.
 
Crazyheart - your story reminded me - you don't have to be a kid to be intimidated by the hospital atmosphere or the terminology that you don't understand.

Back when there were no prenatal classes, and husbands weren't allowed anywhere near labor and delivery rooms, and my mother was dead so no one had talked to me about the actual experience - I lay alone in a white room, pain and cramps - and then an awful urge to have a bowel movement. I lay there, holding back, holding back - afraid I'd soil the bed.
Every now and then a nurse would poke her head in and ask how I was doing. Once I asked about getting up to go to the bathroom but she assured me that I didn't need to because I'd been cleaned out with an enema when I was first admitted. So I lay there, holding back. It seemed like ages before she looked in again. "Ring when you start feeling like bearing down." Timidly I asked, "How will I know?"
"Oh, you'll know alright. It will feel like you need to go to the bathroom."
"I've felt like that for the last hour." (maybe an exaggeration)
They weren't long rushing me into the delivery room.
 
When I got my driver's license, I was able to make my own doctor's appointments. I never felt I could tell the doctor how I felt with my mom by my side.
 
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