Dear doctor: I can't sleep.

Dear doctor:

I can't sleep.

Before you reach for your prescription pad and write me a script for Ambien, please... just take a few moments to listen to what's bothering me. I have a feeling that if you just focus for a bit on what I am trying to tell you, the beneficial effects will be much more lasting than anything you could possibly prescribe to ameliorate the symptoms of insomnia associated with my underlying frustration.
I really just need to be heard.

You have seen me in your office many times. Over the years, I have gained weight, acquired wrinkles, and my hair has turned gray. I have come to you on occasion asking for bloodwork because I have been concerned about my own health, but it has been much more likely for you to see me when I bring my daughter in because she is sick with strep, or because we need a referral for the neurologist, or for the endocrinologist, or immunologist, or dermatologist, or neuropsychologist, speech pathologist, gastroenterologist, audiologist, ENT or orthopedic surgeon.

I am 50 years old. My daughter is 16. Her medical file is bigger than mine. Much bigger. I have finally realized that this is a good thing, since I will most likely be the one taking care of her for the rest of her life, and I need to be healthy. Without me, she has no one.

So, here it is... 3:38 a.m.

I have a class at 8:00. The alarm will go off at 6:20. That gives me roughly 2.5 hours to tell you why I can't sleep.

I am tired.
I am tired of being talked down to.
I am tired of the way you roll your eyes when I express my concerns about mercury and aluminum in vaccinations.
I am tired of worrying about whether or not you are going to give me a hard time when I ask for a note for school so my daughter is not forced to drink milk at lunch.
I am tired of trying to explain to you why she needs to take enzymes at school so she doesn't spend the second half of the day in the bathroom or in the nurse's office.
I am tired of riding to the hospital in an ambulance.
I am tired of holding her head up off the floor so she doesn't get a concussion when she seizes after getting a tetanus shot you insisted she had to have.
I am tired of enduring your disdain and the dirty looks of the nurses in your office when I, once again, refuse to give consent for her to get the flu shot.

After all of the time and money I have spent in your office over the years, I deserve your attention, if not your respect. I know you are the one with the initials M.D. behind your name. What you don't know is that if not for the last 16 years spent caring for my sick child, I would also have some pretty impressive initials behind my name. As it is, the initials I have are M.S. (Master of Science). When my daughter got sick, I was on my way to obtaining my Ph.D. That didn't happen. She needed me more and I couldn't do both.

So here I am, 16 years later, and I'm working on my MSW (Master of Social Work) because I finally realized that if I'm ever going to be able to pay off my student loans I need to figure out a way to make a living at something I can do while caring for my daughter for the rest of her life. The best way I know is to do something that benefits not only her, but other children who are struggling with the same issues she struggles with. I had hoped to go on and finish the Ph.D., but at this point, it's probably not going to happen.

What I need you to understand is that just because I don't have the proper initials behind my name does not mean I have lost my ability to think critically or to do excellent research. If anything, my skills in this area have improved, being strengthened not only by 16 years of experience, but by the motivation that comes from being the Parent of a sick Child (Ps.C).

When you were studying medicine, you learned about a lot of things in a span of six or eight years. You have worked hard and there are a lot of people who respect you and who depend on you to help them feel better. You deserve the respect that comes with the initials "M.D."

Over the last 16 years I have learned a lot, too. The difference is, I have been specializing in a very narrowly focused area. I am now THE expert on MY child. I may not have the same initials as you, but I deserve the respect that comes from sacrificing and working hard to heal my daughter. I will no longer tolerate your rolling eyes or heavy sighs when I ask for a moment of your time. And I will not lose one more minute of sleep worrying about whether or not you will work with me to help my daughter. If you don't, I will find someone who will. I hope it doesn't come to that, because there are times when I really do need your help and expertise, and I do not want to have to start over, building that relationship with someone new. But if I have to, I will.

So here are the rules:

1. Do not try to push any more vaccines on my family. You know how I feel about this, and you know I have done my research. If you want to know WHY I will not give consent, please ask. I will be more than happy to spend as long as it takes to share the information I have learned with you because I fully believe it will help you to become a better physician.

Actually, that's pretty much it.
I am asking for your respect.
I am demanding it.
I deserve it.

Thank-you. I feel so much better. I think I can actually grab a couple of hours sleep before the alarm goes off.

I am looking forward to building our new relationship; one that is focused on the common goal of healing my child.

With the highest regard,
Marcella Piper-Terry, Ps.C.
(Parent of a sick Child)