I think I may have to break up with my doctor.

I’ve always had kind of a weird relationship with doctors since I went to college and left behind my family doctor back home.  My dad’s a doctor and (in my extremely humble opinion) a really great one, and he always knew who the good doctors were in the area and, when I needed to see someone, would be able to get me an appointment with someone competent who he trusts (especially given the nightmare stories he’s told me about some of his former co-workers).  But Dad’s eight hours away and doesn’t know anyone in Los Angeles, and I need someone here I can just call and see if I’m not feeling well.

So I’ve had this one doctor who I’ve been going to for the last six years.  He came recommended by one of my co-workers when I first moved here, and I figured since I don’t get sick all that often, it’s fine that I just have a guy who I’ve established as My Doctor.  Except the past few times I’ve been to see him, I get the feeling like he’s almost following the rules of that book He’s Just Not That Into You, hence the reasoning why I’m feeling like it’s time to finally break up with him.  For example, when I first started getting sick last Wednesday, I didn’t have anything in my head except for symptoms that matched strep throat, so I went in Wednesday morning for a strep test.  I found out later that now they have rapid strep tests that can give you results within 15 minutes but no — this guy had one of his assistants stick that swab down my throat, then he quickly popped in to tell me he wouldn’t get the results back for 2 days and began walking back out of the room.  He didn’t volunteer anything else, I had to ask him, “Well, what do I do in the meantime since my throat is killing me?” Either way — never heard back from his office, not even to tell me the test was negative.  I got the impression that, like a taken-for-granted lover, I’d been left behind for other exciting patients because he knew I’d come crawling back.

Then there was the time I had a sinus infection and they called me to ask which pharmacy they could call in a prescription to.  I gave them my local place, then said, “I know it’s standard practice for this kind of thing to prescribe Zithromax, but please don’t.  It makes me violently ill.” The nurse snapped at me, “Are you trying to tell the doctor how to do his job?” Naturally, when I showed up at the pharmacy that night after the doctor’s office had already closed, Zithromax was waiting for me.  Just like a bad boyfriend, he was giving me what he thought was best, not what I needed.

So it’s gotten to the point where I’m almost afraid to call my doctor, yet I can’t seem to leave him because I’m a little reticent about maybe not finding anyone new out there… just like the end of a relationship where you start thinking about checking out because things have gotten so bad, but you’re just too scared of being single.  And like my desire to date a woman who’s Jewish, I also have to contend with finding a doctor who’s within my HMO.  Anyone got any friends — er, doctors they can set me up with?