Why Would Someone Hate Doctors?

or

~Healthcare In America Is An Oxymoronic Term, As It Is An Industry That Does Nothing Proactive For Health, Nor Does It Encourage Empathy Or Investments In Its Patients: 

Id Est, There Is Little Health And Less Care~

Let us propose a hypothetical situation, you and I:

1. One moves to a new town and goes about the business of retaining new medical personnel b/c these people are required to get prescriptions and sleep in the devil's bed of big pharma, which is neck in neck with financial institutions and insurance of any kind for sheer Cruelty Through Indifference and Mafioso Style Business.
2. Because one has done this for years, one attempts to have all records and such delivered to a General Practitioner, and show up with background details established.
3. One sees the GP. Scrips are filled. Referrals are made. There is much rejoicing.
4. Three months later, one calls in a scrip refill. One is told an office visit is required. Why? There is no logical reason. Blood is never drawn. Tests are never taken. Occasionally blood pressure is recorded. Financial motive? Hrm. 
5. One takes time off from work for the inevitable two hour appointment for 10 minutes of the doctor's time. 
6. Doc says, "Why are you here?" One might reply, "Office said I had to to get scrip refill." Doc replies, "Oh no, I wanted to follow up about that lump on your thyroid."
7. One says, "What lump?"
8. Records are shuffled about, and lo and behold--an ultrasound from over seven months ago revealed a nodule. One's previous doctor never bothered to advise on the results of this test. Whoops. Current MD feels this is a matter which might require some attention, esp considering the family history of thyroid and throat cancers, as well as other thyroid diseases. One's family is literally lousy with such cases. Doc orders tons of blood tests and a PET, to prepare for visit with a specialist.
9. Specialist cannot see one for about 5 or 6 weeks, but at least one is getting all the necessary leg work done in the interim.
10. The day before the PET scan, the testing lab calls. Apparently, one's insurance (may all their policymakers roast in slowly rotating spits in eternal hellfire and damnation), refuses the test as "unnecessary." Several phone calls later and a frank conversation with the facility directory, one discovers that is code for "This test cost too much and we will only perform after we have performed at least three previous tests, all of which are more invasive and less informative." Out of pocket cost for test is $4K, cash or check only. 
11. Test is canceled. Original GP refuses to request more tests, referring all future items to upcoming specialist visit.
12. One spends four weeks wondering if one has cancer. Logically, probably not, since cancer associated with lymphatic systems are usually immensely swift, and had one had such a problem for over nine months, one would likely have dropped dead by now. 
13. Appointment with specialist arrives. More time off from work. Specialist has one wait for 1.5 hours in cramped, unairconditioned waiting room, then sees one for about five minutes in her office. Amazingly, despite several calls and releases and follow ups by the patient (oneself), not all of the records have been transferred to the specialist. 
14. Specialist spend half of the five minutes trying to get the secretary on the phone to get the records. The other portion is spent dismissing the current diagnosis and treatment, stating that despite all physical evidence to the contrary, the patient has too much thyroid, and claiming the patient needs to be off meds. When patient asks why a hyper state was created by the application of unneeded meds, and points out the symptoms of lack of necessary hormone, doctor waves it off. "Your symptoms are probably just depression."
15. One is staggered to learn that depression can cause water retention, weight gain, lack of response to diet and exercise, etc, etc, etc. What an enlightened doctor. One is comforted that the doctor has so thoroughly examined the patient's records to realize that extensive medical treatments for depression did not alleviate any of these symptoms, and that in fact former doctors were in search of an organic cause outside of the brain. One thinks these thoughts while awash in acidic sarcasm. If only acidic sarcasm could drip onto those around you.
16. Doctor announces it's time to get naked, because, really, what's a trip to the doctor without a humiliating turn in a paper vest, with pokes and prods that no one told you was coming.
17. Doctor Specialist orders a follow up test, and advises patient to seek out more specifics on the kinds of cancers the family has. And to quit taking current meds. It would seem that unlike other lymphatic cancers, thyroid is slow growing. And only about 5% of growths are malignant. Doctor Specialist will see you gain in three months. So, wean oneself off of meds, hope your thyroid still functions, and if you have cancer maybe you will hear from her sooner. Her last name is Geola. Despite what the appointment card says, one will not be following up with her on this matter. 
18. One makes an appointment, and takes more time off from work to go get more lab tests done. Alas, but not surprisingly, the test is inconclusive. The will not biopsy a mass smaller than 1 cm. Mass is .7 cm. How does this compare to former scan? Who knows? And more to the point, who cares to know? None of the medical practitioners mentioned so far.

So where does that leave one? With a couple of months of frantic negotiations, time off from work, immense stress, extra medical bills  ($1K in blood tests alone) and a final analysis of: insurance doesn't pay for tests beyond what's been done. One probably doesn't  have cancer, statistically speaking, and the docs will check back in 3 or 4 months down the road. All the other concerns related to the thyroid are obviously not about the thyroid, as the specialist was able to surmise with partial records and a five minute review.

So, thanks for playing along. You probably don't have anything, but we don't feel compelled to test any further. Thanks for letting us put the idea of fatal disease into your head and then not address it any further. Oh, and thanks for letting us dismiss any of your other concerns in favor of the Big C, which was a notion we created in the first place.

If only this story were unique, singular. If only I could not tell you, from my own anemic collection, seven different stories that followed the same arc, same plot, same ending.

They say depression is anger without enthusiasm. I say depression is the best thing that ever happened for the medical industry. Outside of cigarettes. Because it's a catch all non-diagnosis that has the benefit of actually manifesting. If you aren't depressed and defeated at the start of your dealings with the medical industry, you will be by the mid point. And that's to their benefit, for in addition to getting to dismiss you, they also know you don't have the energy to pimp slap their sorry, smug, disgusting little asses into the next time zone. It usually takes all your fortitude just to make it through the torturous testing processes that are invariably inconclusive. Then you crawl off and just lie on your couch, recovering from the near apoplectic state you've been hovering in for weeks or months. 

You're too exhausted to do what is healthy and normal, which is smack the ever living shit out of these pompous assholes, demand a refund AND get your parking validated.

These people are vile. Vile in their indifference. Vile in their insensitivity. Vile in their daily flaunting and opposition of their basic, fundamental oath. You don't care about people, that's fine. Just don't call yourself a fucking doctor while lining your pockets with kickbacks from whatever the drug rep was in your office about this week. Call yourself what you are: a pusher and a vulture and class discriminators.  Or to shorten it up: pieces of shit.