But all true helping begins with a humbling. If I nevertheless want to assert my greater understanding, then it is because I am vain or proud, then basically instead of benefiting him I really want to be admired by him. If I do not do that, then my greater understanding does not help him at all. This happens so often that it almost seems to be the cultural norm at psychiatric departments.ĭanish philosopher Søren Kierkegaard wrote in 1859: “In order truly to help someone else, I must understand more than he-but certainly first and foremost understand what he understands. It also becomes understandable that violence is sometimes triggered by the staff’s disrespectful behaviour, particularly when the doctors refuse to trust what patients tell them about their bad experiences with the drugs they prescribe. ![]() With such an attitude to people who do not suffer from any psychiatric or somatic disorders, it is easy to understand that patients with a psychiatric diagnosis can become very frustrated when they are distrusted. I had become a patient once more, and my title as a doctor was disbelieved again. He was on call, and when his pager howled a little later, I said jokingly that I was convinced it was the receptionist who would tell him that his patient-me-had arrived. After much trouble and disbelief, the receptionist reluctantly established a connection and my colleague came down to pick me up. Yet again, I needed to go to the patient reception where I carefully explained that I was a doctor and had an appointment with a colleague. ![]() My colleague had given me some instructions but admitted that it was very difficult to find his office. Later, on the same trip, at the McMaster Hospital in Hamilton, Ontario, I lost my way again. I arrived at the auditorium right on time after having asked a friendly person in the corridor where the hospital information desk was. She likely thought I was a psychiatric case with a delusion that I was a doctor, as she didn’t tell me that the hospital information desk was close by. It didn’t matter to her how much I begged for help. “Please go to the end of the queue,” the robot replied. I repeated that I was a doctor and asked for help to find my colleague who worked at the hospital. “Please go to the end of the queue,” she replied with a stone face. ![]() As I was in a hurry, I bypassed a large queue of patients and explained to the receptionist that I was not a patient but a doctor scheduled to give a lecture in a few minutes time. ![]() I strolled around in despair while the time for my lecture was rapidly approaching.Īs a last resort, I addressed the reception at the hospital. I couldn’t find the auditorium and the organiser of the meeting didn’t answer her phone. I went on a lecture tour in North America after I had published my book about deadly medicines and organised crime in the drug industry and lost my way at a large hospital in Baltimore. The story appeared in the BMJ as a warning about distrusting what people tell their doctors. His mother was one of the oldest people in Britain, and she was dependent on her son’s help. He kept on insisting that he didn’t have time to be hospitalised because his mother needed him. Some years ago, an old man of about 85 years of age was admitted to a British hospital.
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