You wanted to kill your doctor because ...

[Alla]

Arthritis in left shoulder was diagnosed as a heart condition. I was told that I needed bypass. I refused and saw another doctor. By that time the arthritis inflammation was gone. Another cardiologist said I was lucky that I did not believe that doctor.

And what is your 'killer' story?

[Dazzling Zoomer Gal Diana]

Yikes! That's quite the story Alla, and reinforces a few things quite clearly. 1. Trust your instinct, 100%. 2. Get a second opinion when in doubt. 3. Have a good friend or family member by your side who can serve as an advocate on your behalf. Someone to help take notes, and assist you in hearing all the options. 4. Do your homework if you have time to do so, an informed patient is a more interactive patient. 5. If possible, know your families health history.

I personally have not been in such a situation, but this is an instructive story, (thanks Alla ) so if anyone else has a horror story, please share.

[Rhiannnonn]

DZGD, you are so lucky!! Let me tell you! My so-called mother, a.k.a. Beverly, had a doctor that she would have had an affirmative answer for you on that question. Come to think of it, I have a couple....

Women in my family have been into questioning doctors and not just meekly going under the knife for longer than I can remember. Beverly (it's easier to type than "my so-called mother," I give up) was having an argument with GYN about something not being right about the after effects of surgery he'd done for endometriosis. So, he did another surgery, taking out the ovaries which were only left so that she wouldn't need hormones.

This time, her complaints were a hundred times worse. She couldn't sit up straight, much less stand up straight. When she got up on her feet, she walked very noticeably pigeon-toed. God help her if she laughed, coughed or sneezed (she'd wet her pants).

What the doctor had done was tied up her bladder (and what ever else was left in there) up too high. He had a pretty crappy way of letting his anger being let known. In the final surgery she went to him for, he lowered things back to where they were in their proper places for her. After that, she changed doctors.

I've had a couple of real doozies myself. For example, when I was 19, I had a problem when no matter what, I had this endless period. I went to a doctor my doctor suggested. After having to put off the appointment several times because of the "broken flood gates," he did the exam anyways. But that S.O.B. had the worst possible way of telling someone what he found. After I was out of the exam room, I was led to his office and allowed to eaves drop while he told his dictaphone about the mass the size of a grapefruit and what sort of tests he wanted run before surgery could be scheduled. When he got done with telling the dictaphone, he looked at me and said, "Well, what are you waiting for?" Naturally, I never went back to his office. (In it's former life, the mass had been an ovary. I was in surgery 6 hours longer than expected. But the doctor who did the surgery was very nice about everything. Including when he told me that my kid sister reminded him that I used to baby sit for him and his girlfriend before she did, which explained why I looked familiar to him. Funny, in his office and at the hospital, I didn't recognize him either...)

This one is not so much the doctor as it is circumstances. I grew up being abused, along with my sisters, by the before mentioned Beverly. I got bashed in the head so much that I ended up completely blind in my left eye at the age of 29 from a cataract like the kind that boxers get. The first time that I went to have it operated on, they tried to do it the way they do it on old people, it's called "sedation/local." They sedate you and use a local. Great as long as you stay out long enough. I didn't. I woke up while they were still arranging the drape. The sedation wouldn't let me talk, my arms are strapped down, so I'm pushing against a pole that happens to be at my feet. One nurse in the room with several there, and a couple of doctors...One nurse says, "She's awake..." Everyone else insisted that I wasn't. I tried to tell them that I wasn't, but there was a delay between my brain talking and my mouth mumbling it. So, I just kept it up until that one nurse came up with a way to convince them: The nurse says, "Squeeze my hand if you're awake." I tried to lift my hand but I'd forgotten my arms were strapped down and it didn't get too far. She got my hand and I squeezed. Hard. "She's definitely awake...You can let go anytime now!" That ended any attempt at trying to do the surgery that day.

I've got other stories if you want more, but it's 5:45 AM and I haven't been to bed since 1:15 PM yesterday afternoon. I'm on my way to bed.