What I Recently Needed From my Doctor & Didn’t Get
Talking About My Mental Health History
Please look me in the eye.
Please.
Please don’t keep asking all the questions on the form without looking at me?
It is hard enough to answer them.
You have always been a great Doctor. I only started seeing you in January last year when my previous Doctor had left to go somewhere else and instantly I liked you.
You looked me in the eye, shook my hand, and you were kind and personable.
You knew I was on antidepressants.
You renewed my prescriptions when needed. You always asked me “how” I was, and looked at me like you were interested in my reply.
I have been well since I have seen you — no acute symptoms. No distress.
I recently went online to make some changes to my life insurance policy.
I went to increase the total amount my life is insured for, and it generated a few extra questions about my health for me to answer.
One of the questions was in relation to what type of medication I am currently taking. I wrote down my antidepressant, and it generated a form that said my doctor would be contacted by the insurance company to verify my information.
I received a phone call from the doctor’s surgery within the month asking me to come for an appointment.
I attended.
The appointment started the same way it always did.
My Doctor invited me to take a seat and then asked me, “What can I do for you today?” I let him know his surgery nurse had rung me and made the appointment and I believed it was to do with my application to increase my life insurance.
He looked me up on his computer, and sure enough, he had the questionnaire they had requested he fill out. He printed it out and started to go through the section on mental health with me. He said he could fill out the rest quickly enough with information on my online file, but he would prefer to talk to me in person about my mental health.
Fair enough. That felt thorough, efficient and caring.
He started going through the questions. It felt quite clinical.
Then the questions became more specific.
When did my last episode of depression start?
Was I still having symptoms?
How much medication did I take?
Was I suicidal?
Had I self-harmed?
I answered the questions as he asked them honestly. He never looked up at me. I started to feel more and more awkward and uneasy.
I clarified some of the questions and gave some more information about others.
When did my Post Traumatic Stress Disorder symptoms first start?
Well, that would have been in my childhood after I had suffered multiple traumas, but nobody realized, and so it wasn’t until my mid 30’s I was diagnosed. I had the symptoms for years but thought they were just a normal part of everyone’s life.
I did not know until my mid 30s that most other people did not experience flashbacks, disassociation ,freezing and an inability to cry.
He didn’t look up.
He didn’t ask any more questions.
He hesitated over the paperwork and then wrote something down. I am not sure what he wrote. He did not look at me.
I wanted him to look at me.
To catch my eye.
To reassure me it was alright.
That, I was alright.
I want to know from you that I am still okay, and you don’t think badly of me. I am not a bad person.
I am okay. I am doing well. I am still ME.
I am still ME.
We can smile at each other, and we can wish each other a good day. We can look at each other when we do so.
He finished writing on the paper and handed me a slip. He told me that the nurse would take my weight, height and blood pressure and give it back to him. I took the paper off him and thanked him for seeing me.
He said. “That’s okay” but he didn’t look at me as he opened the door and guided me out.
I wanted to cry but did not know why.
We always have looked each other in the eye and smiled and wished each other a happy day.
Why was it different today?
Is it because suddenly we talked about my past mental health, my past trauma (without going into any details).
Did he feel uncomfortable? Why didn’t he look up at me?
All I wanted was for him to look at me and smile kindly with his eyes. It didn’t even have to meet his mouth.
I wanted him to say, “I hope your feeling okay answering these questions, some of them must be hard for you?”
“I know I only have 15 minutes, and I can’t talk to you longer, but I want you to know I appreciate your honesty and I know this may be difficult for you.”
I am scared he thinks less of me now he knows about my depression. I know this is ridiculous. I know it shouldn’t make a difference.
But in these few minutes, in those few moments — it did.
I just want to feel like I am still okay as a person with him. That he does not think less of me.
I am scared he does not.
I am scared because he wouldn’t meet my eyes and I don’t know what that means, but it doesn’t feel right.
Please still be kind to me. Please look at me next time.
I will do my best to reassure you and make extra efforts to smile and be engaging as I don’t want to feel “less than” when I next see you.
We are meant to be okay with speaking to our Doctor about “feeling bad” and “sad” and sometimes “wanting to die.”
I am not sure if I can tell you these things if I needed to talk to you if I became symptomatic again.
It feels like maybe I can’t.
And I hate not knowing. I hate thinking that maybe my fear of you not looking at me is “all in my head” and I am also at the same time fearful it is “NOT all in my head” and you really do feel uncomfortable around me now.
I hate feeling unsure like this.
I hate not knowing if it is still safe for me to talk to you if I felt low and down without you thinking less of me for doing so.
I hope I don’t ever have to find out.
