Well, he or she should be hawt, like clueless wolf cub Dr. Karev from Grey’s Anatomy or Dr. Robin Scorpio from General Hospital. Kidding! I kid! By ‘hawt”, I mean that he or she should take your health plan as payment, and accomodate the preposterous rules about using Flexible Spending Accounts for co-payments. If you have neither insurance nor an FSA, the general principles below apply anyhow.
1) Education: The school awarding the MD to a doctor is not as informative to you as the doctor’s ability to communicate what’s wrong with you and how it needs to be fixed. The ability to translate medical terminology into normal-speak is a critical skill for a doctor. But still, if she got her degree at the Nigerian Scam University and her diploma says “Greetings! I am Reverend Kobayashi Maru and you may assist me in getting 10 Million Euros by giving me your bank account details…” run.
2) Hospital affiliation: In my neck of the woods, everyone knows that if you need general care, you got to North Shore University Hospital, if you’re throwing a cardiac party, it’s St. Francis, and if you are birthing a baby, it’s Winthrop University. Do some homework about where your doctor can work, because it’s where your ass will land when you need serious treatment. (Obviously, the ER is the closest one to where you live.)
3) Personality / bedside manner: You are paying for his Benz, little Ayn-Randie’s orthodontia, and his wife LuAnn-Teresa-Danielle’s Flirty Girl Fitness DVDs, which cause her to gyrate around a custom-installed stripper pole until the Alli she eats like Tic-Tacs causes her to squeak out a mournful-sounding toot. He owes you and your family respect, dammit, and so does his staff. Any snotty attitude should send you in search of another doctor. But be A Good Patient: show up on time for appointments, be scrupulously clean physically, pay on time, and show that you trust him or her to do what’s right.
4) The Interview: you will not know until a few visits what to expect from your new doc, and her courage and skill won’t be tested until you are in a crisis. Here’s a few examples of what can go wrong.
Some doctors have A God Complex – they can save your life, and they expect to be worshipped. This was
exemplified rather well in Stephen King’s Duma Key, where an extremely lovable main character with an inoperable bullet in his brain declines surgery, saying that the surgeon “was the kind of doctor who would say ‘Tell me if it hurts… when I do *this*.
Others are less overt. I once prepared a one-page medical history for a prospective General Practicioner. In a nasty tone, he asked me: “Why so many HIV tests?” (I do this annually.) I answered, “I’m gay and I’m careful.” He made a face. I never knew what a moue of distaste was until just that moment.
I was dressed and in the parking lot in 5 minutes, crimson with fury and shame.
Another one – an elderly German doctor from Great Neck: post-routine colonoscopy, he looked at me, then Cap’n, and said “I found what I expected.” Great, you old Nazi, why don’t you share?, I thought, and Cap’n and the nurse exchanged a look of horror. “There is nothing requiring medical treatment.”, he said in his smug, clipped tone. “But I bet you’ll be back.” I will never forget the fire in the nurse’s eyes as she left the room, nor Cap’n’s silent rage as he helped me to the car. I have not been back. I will never be back.
But then, this from Dr. K, a dynamic ginger affiliated with my favorite hospital in Manhasset, New York – the one where I was born, and him too. (And J.Lo’s babies, not that it matters.):
Dr. K: Well, I don’t have your labs back, but you look fine and your blood pressure’s fine. Why are we here?
Me: I need a new regular, personal doctor. I normally go for a physical every year near my birthday, and it’s been a while – 4 years or so. This is ungood.
Dr. K: Double*plus*ungood! But I’m glad you’re here. What was the problem with your old doctor?
Me: Well, I’m 43 and he was my pediatrician.
Dr K: *stifling giggles* No other concerns?
Me: My habits are pretty good except for diet and exercise.
Dr. K: Let’s have a look. Ok. 40 pounds. It’s like having a toddler! No big deal. I recommend a visit for you and your spouse to our nutritionist. Limit alcohol intake to 2 drinks a week, and no fast food until I see you again. If you amp up your activity, do it slow – a long walk is fine, deadlifting 300 pounds is not. And I want to see you when your labs come in, and again in two months. Ask Lisa to set it all up.
Me: Okay. Wait – how did you know he was my husband?
Dr. K: I can see the waiting room from my office. I saw you guys come in together. And I saw him watch you walk in. We’ll talk about the rest of your support system the next time I see you. Call with any questions, any time.
And with a grin, he was gone.
Oh, you are so very hired, Dr. K.