Today, I had an appointment with a doctor I haven’t seen in nearly a year.
He works in the campus health centre in the university I attended between 2012 and 2014, and where I will be returning this Fall. I saw him regularly until November 2014, then entered Day Hospital treatment for the first time in December. While in treatment, my medical needs were met by the program psychiatrist and the nurse practitioner.
During my brief time out of program, I attended a different university, and had my prescriptions renewed at their campus health centre. When I returned to treatment, I was once again under the care of the program staff. Shortly before I was discharged, the psychiatrist wrote me a prescription for two month’s worth of medication. That prescription ran out yesterday.
So today, I found myself back in his office, detailing my past year of treatment. And he was kind of an ass about it.
At one point, he told me that, “Eating disorder patients are notorious for failing treatment, and reaching out again when they are in crisis”. He asked if that was me, forcing me to defend my intentions of recovery, and making me consider lying about my recent struggles. I felt incredibly judged by him, and I began to judge myself for not yet being recovered. I started to feel like a sneaky, manipulative trouble-maker, when in reality, I am just ill.
He also told me at one point that I looked great, after I told him that I have been struggling lately. I can understand when my friends and family don’t know that, to my eating disorder, looking great= looking fat. But doctors who deal with patients with eating disorders should know better.
Maybe I am just grumpy, or maybe this is my eating disorder coming out to attack someone who wants me to get well. But I am not happy with the quality of care I received today.
I am not happy with the quality of care I receive in general as a patient with an eating disorder. But there’s not much I can do about it today, aside from writing this blog post. So here it is.