Today I had a follow up appointment with the neurologist that saw me when I was in the hospital after my seizure. What was fascinating about the appointment was that the doctor spent the entire time telling me why he wasn’t really my doctor because I had seen someone different three years ago for headaches. He was just on call at the hospital. I assured him that the other guy wasn’t “my doctor,” so he took a different tack and pointed out that he is a neurologist and knew nothing about cancer or any of that stuff. His only interest was in my “causational epilepsy.”
When I told him I had just finished fourteen whole brain radiation treatments, he didn’t understand what that had to do with him, because that is my oncologist’s thing. Headaches? Not his problem. My next brain MRI? He didn’t even have the authority to order one. The only thing he did was type up a chronology of the siezures* and give me a copy to give to the other doctors.
I felt like I was in Blade Runner. The replicants are looking for their creator Tyrell and they find the man who made their eyes. Protesting his ignorance about Tyrell, he insists that he “only does eyes.” But in my case, it was “I only do brains!” His only concern is the epilepsy. Not the lesions in my brain, or the potential effects of the radiation on my brain, or anything else.
Essentially we spent thirty minutes being told by a doctor why he can’t be my doctor.
*Can I tell you how much fun that was to relive?
Pink Goose 
Sometimes they give medical degrees to morons.
What an idiot. People should be made to pass a basic empathy test before being allowed to do these jobs. Shit.
Douche.
He only does brains? Perhaps he can find a working one for himself.
Wow. Incredible.
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