As a Novel Patient, I have my fair share doctor hunting.  It’s taken me several tries to find a specialist who could help me.  Now I have a fantastic team of over 10 of them.  Some of the top doctors in their specialties, it is worth the sometimes five hour waits to see them because they have been able to diagnose and treat me.

The one type of doctor I was missing was an internist.  I’ve put off the search for them for months, but finally decided it was time to find someone to handle the things that didn’t fall under a specialty – my general health.  I needed someone to help coordinate my specialist, make sure things don’t fall through the cracks, and manage my care if, god forbid, I end up in the hospital again.  Since I left my pediatrician behind, I haven’t found doctor able to do that job for me, and between all the specialists, I haven’t had the time to look.  But having been out of the hospital for the longest stretch in the last year and a half, I decided to start the search.

So I researched some internists affiliated with the hospital all my other specialists are at.  One sounded promising, so I made an appointment.

Tuesday, the day of the appointment, arrived.  As I sat in his office giving my long medical history, I could sense something was wrong.  Finally, half way through the appointment time, he looked up and said, “You have so many specialists… what do you even NEED ME for?”  When I explained again what I was looking for in an internist, his objection became more clear.  I was “too complicated” a patient.  He was too old to take on someone as “challenging” as me.  Perhaps a younger doctor would be more able to deal with the “complexity of your case”.  And like that, he declined to take me on as a patient.

Up until this point I didn’t know that doctors even COULD decline to take on a new patient.  However, he kindly referred me to a younger doctor he felt might be more up to the challenge.  He even arranged for me to see him the next day.

So on Wednesday, for the second time that week I drove over an hour into the city to see a prospective internist.  Slightly wary but still hopeful, I arrived at his office.  But quickly he took me back into his office looking like a boss about to lay off an employee.  Apparently he had pulled up my records.  Again I was “too complicated” and he just didn’t want to “take on a patient as sick” as I am.

Rejected two days in a row was too much for me to handle.  I burst into tears when he told me.  Embarrassed, I tried to be polite and thank him for his time.  I then proceeded to cry the whole way home.  Not only did these rejections make me feel unwanted and uncared for, but they made me feel like I must be sicker than I go around every day thinking I am.  It made my illness seem more real, more unwieldy, more unmanageable, more scary, than any test result or diagnosis ever did.  So I cried and cried as Sarina, my caregiver, stroking my shoulder drove me home.

Yesterday, Thursday, I was due in the city once more.  This time for a followup with my Pancreatitis specialist.  At the end of my appointment, I hesitantly told him I’d been having problems finding an internist willing to take me and asked if he could recommend anyone who might be willing to take on my clearly complex case.  He had one name for me, but jokingly said, “I’m not sure he’ll thank me for referring your case to him.”  Luckily he said that in good humor or I would have cried again.

Before the city, I decided to take a chance and call the newly recommended internist.  Amazingly he had a cancellation that afternoon.

Trying not to get my hopes up, only to be crushed once more, Sarina and I made our way over to his office.  And I’m happy to report that this story has a happy ending.  I knew it was a good sign when instead of leading me into his office they took me right back to an exam room to take my vitals.  Then the fairly young doctor arrived and enthusiastically began by asking me what I was looking for an internist for.  He nodded in agreement as I explained what I hoped his role would be.  He said, “sometimes my role will be to corral all the specialists and other times I’ll just need to step back and let them do their thing.”  Then I knew I had a keeper.

He patiently took my whole history, making notes about what he’d be needing to follow up on himself.  Never did the question of me not becoming his patient come up.  He assured me that “medicine almost never happens between 9 and 5″, so I shouldn’t worry about calling him if problems arise after hours.  He sees his own patients in the hospital instead of using a hospitalist.  He does all electronic prescriptions.

We talked about my weight gain from the prednisone and getting me off of it eventually.  Getting a bone density done next fall.  Checking my thyroid on a regular basis.  And he wants me back in weeks to check me after I get my first Rixutin infusion and see how I’m doing.  He said he was very excited to see how that helped me.

In the end, I have found myself quite the novel doctor indeed.

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