I Knew I Had a Good/Bad Psychiatrist When...
When I first met Dr. X I had an almost unwelcome feeling. I felt like I should be paying for his services and only then he would treat me like I worthy of his therapy. Anyway, I told him that I wanted some sort of psychotherapy rather than drugs because of sideffects, etc. Although he listened to me he decided that drugs would be most useful in this case. Well I didn't take them, but I did continue to see him. Being a psychology student I am sure my beliefs about drugs were emanating from my psyche. With time, however, I gained respect for this person with a British accent and snotty attitude. When he started sharing some of his personal history and I found that we had a bit of history in common I began to trust him. I guess trust was a real issue for me. I began taking the meds and gradually became healthier. We developed a bit of a friendship which was in the end briskly cut off by him. I guess because he didn't want me to become too dependent on this one and only friendship. Anyway I still hear his voice once in while and find comfort in knowing that he knew me enough to get me to help myself.
- Antoanell Pardel
I have been having a hell of a time, lately, with psychiatrists (i.e., finding one and keeping one) during this last bout of depression. My heart sinks when I walk into a practitioner's office and it barely looks as if they write scripts there. We probably just can't help it, but women are probably more sensitive to this. The past two pdocs I've seen (and didn't go back to when I couldn't take it anymore) hardly looked at me, either, except to say "these are the rules" type statements and ask me if was suicidal. Funny thing - it made no difference in their reaction if I said I was suicidal or swore I wasn't. Not really very humorous. The psychiatrist I saw previously was (is!) a real human being, who listened, empathized, and did his damnedest to help me feel that I too, am a human being, defects and all. He had an office with "real" furniture, old worn oriental carpets, real works of art, including that of friends of mine. Offices of both my current individual therapist and someone my husband and I see occasionally are warm, inviting, not fancy, but with pictures of both their kids and "artwork" done by the same. In other words, if they see themselves as human beings, perhaps they can give us the same courtesy. I resolve to walk right out of the "robot" practitioner's offices as soon as I walk in from now on! Our instincts may be all we have left....
- Robin
I have been to untold numbers of these people over the last 5 years that I have been suffering from depression. One told me that I could blame it all on my parents and that I should let them know. (Thank God that I did not do so). The next one would give me a depression test every week that I saw him. He placed me on different drugs over the years, all with the same results, but at least the data was of use.
I then found a good man who showed me how to use my brain to help control the pain in my left arm. Two years of little depression. Then he had a stroke. Depression back. Back to other psychiatrist, still more drugs.
Then last year a breakdown in public; result pending police charges (a man with one good arm with two assault police charges), depression deeper, placed in a psych hospital; depression even deeper.
Then my good man came to my rescue, got me out of the hospital and he now treats me (at no charge), ring or visit him at any time.
- Anonymous
I refer to the first 3 psychiatrists I saw as quacks #1, #2, and #3. I suffer from severe, chronic clinical depression and have tried nearly every psychiatric medicine known with no permanent success. I was referred to the psychiatrists I saw by an EAP. It turns out that the only requirement to get on the EAP's list was that these providers apply and send in copies of their licenses.
Quack #1 was relatively innocuous. She prescribed a combination of two tricyclics which gave me severe anxiety attacks. Every other doctor I have seen wonders why she combined those two drugs as no one seems to have ever heard of using them together. She left the area before doing any more damage.
Quack #2 apparently did not believe in taking blood levels. I wound up in the hospital (not once, but twice) with toxic blood levels at therapeutic dosages of the antidepressant I was taking. I later found out that that was not unheard of for those particular drugs.
Quack #3 used to fall asleep in therapy sessions and would tell me it was because my monotone voice put him to sleep. When I finally got angry enough to fire him, he told me I was leaving because we were finally getting to the root of my problems and I was afraid to address my issues. When I asked him what those issues were, he said that I needed to discover them myself.
- Gal
I think I know she's a good therapist because, when friends/family ask how my session went or what my therapist thinks of me, I can't really give them a pat answer. In other words, she isn't authoritative or didactic. She listens, responds non-verbally, and then when I'm finished with my latest spiel, she asks me questions about how what I've just said relates to past sessions, relationships, my experiences growing up, etc. It feels as if she is quite solidly on my side, no matter what, and I trust her. I've described our sessions as my weekly anchor to sanity (no advice from well-meaning friends, no belligerent orders to stop my behaviors, no fear or frenzy for one hour a week...).
I used to be very suspicious of therapy, I think, because of the bad press it gets in our culture. I assimilated this and thought of myself as a spoiled white female who couldn't solve her petty problems and who wanted to run to therapy (even though she wasn't "bad enough" to deserve treatment) so someone else could run her life. So I raged and screamed to get attention from my parents (alcoholic father, shy and enabling mother), fell into deep depressions at my lack of perfection, and cut my arm repeatedly to put my anger and pain into a place I could focus on.
Now I feel as if my life is my own and I don't want to spend another second feeling bitter or loathing myself. I just want new tools and perspectives so I can keep searching. I take 50 to 100mg of zoloft daily (I also take short breaks from it as I see fit--my therapist and psychiatrist both accept my need to control my medication and don't view my treatment as a power play). I still cut my arm occasionally, but we discuss it and don't treat it as some terrible backslide. I feel very lucky. I look at my chronic depression and realize that, given my life's circumstances, much of it was a sane response to insane situations. I feel that I've been easy to treat, but had I had a series of "nightmare" therapists, I'd be so much worse off. I'm very grateful to susan for her support.
- Laura
I think the thing that amazes me the most about some of the doctors I've seen for my episodic depression is that they've been so cruel. I wouldn't say some of the things they've said to me to my dog. The first time I got depressed, I was terrified. Therapy was urgent, because of my strong anxiety and complete inability to cope. Naturally, I was referred (by my kind, gentle therapist) to a psychiatrist, which was scary. Was I really that sick? I was highly resistant to the idea of meds, but she didn't try to allay my fears. "What makes you think you don't need medication?" she barked, "I think you do." She convinced me, and I'm glad she did although I'll never forgive her for treating a suicidal but intelligent teenager like an imbecile. Other doctors I saw were nicer, but there was one last year who was pure evil. I'll always remember the disgust in her eyes when, in response to the question, "Can you tell me something about this drug I'm taking?" she said, "Don't you want to have children someday? You are going to harm your children, destroy their lives, if you don't fix your problems." Ugh. I think the reason antidepressants take so long to work is that it takes you a month to get over your appointments with your psychiatrist.
- Wendy from New Jersey
My first therapist was a social worker (MSW) whom my college roommate (also an MSW) recommended to me. I felt very comfortable with her, but after less than a year, I felt my therapy was at an impasse. (she had suggested meds, which petrified me) and I shut down after that.
I thought I could get along without a therapist but after a few months I realized it was not the case. The next therapist was a social worker too, with training in Freudian analysis, which I have since read is not very good for depression. She was not very empathetic. When I was worried about my parents' finances because my mother has depression, she said don't worry about it, they have health insurance and then tried to change the subject, despite the fact that I was worried because their insurance wasn't paying for some very expensive x-rays. And she wanted to know why I was so upset to find out my mother has lung cancer. (Depressives tend to get overly upset at things, but really, she's my MOTHER!)
After being with her for almost a year, I realized I needed to do something or I would end up dead. I went to my primary care physician for a referral to a psychiatrist. He asked me a few questions, and a few minutes later he wrote a prescription for Paxil and told me to come back in 6 months.
Well, after that, I called my health insurance, got names of some psychologists. Our first session was an interview, I followed some suggestions from one of my books and asked her a lot of questions -- how often she treats depression, etc., etc. I began seeing her and saw a psychiatrist that she recommended. It's been a hard time finding meds for me (PAXIL was a bad choice for me and it's taking a while to wean me off.) But all in all I am comfortable with both my psychologist and psychiatrist.
- Susan from NYC
I recently had a panic attack. I went to the local clinic and was given Paxil. I found a shrink in the yellow pages, it's a small town and there was only a choice of two. The one just worked on state cases. I choose shrink number two.
I just got his bill for three sessions. Are you ready for this...$890. My first session I asked his charges. He said $125 for a 50 minute hour, and the first session would go longer, getting background etc. My second session lasted over two hours until I finally said, hey doc, I gotta go. I'm thinking, hey it's a small town, he's not busy, maybe he's interested in my case.
Session number three was going into two hours and I just excused myself, never thinking he has got the clock running.
To sum up, I've written the state board of medicine and spoken to their ombudsman, whose first comment was "Jesus". I've flushed the dope down the toilet, and I feel much better thank you very much.
- Rodger
