Patient
I have not gone to the doctor in over 10 years because I reject the idea of Western medicine and its paternalism. I finally made a decision to go because I was experiencing so many inexplicable symptoms with panic attacks that scared me. I had made my appointment with a primary who referred me to Dr. Correa in the Miami location. I had written a message to the office receptionist before letting the team know to be prepared because of my extreme anxiety of going to the doctor. Yet when I got there, nobody was prepared whatsoever or knew who I was. When I arrived at Dr. Correa's office, I was so incredibly terrified I could barely speak or stand. I was shaking and having a severe panic attack. In the waiting room, I had to knock on the glass because I was so dizzy and I needed help. A cold receptionist barely looked at me before she let me in. I felt like I was about to faint from the anxiety, right there and then. I gathered myself to fill out the paperwork, and when I was finally let inside, I could barely breathe as I was being taken by a nurse who did my EKG. This nurse looked at me dead in the eye and asked, "Why are you having a panic attack?". When Dr. Correia came in, he looked at me with a blank and empty smile. I started to read a prepared statement I had written out. My voice was breaking and I could barely get through it. I related to him how absolutely deathly terrified I was of the skipped beats, followed by the intense panic attacks, a pulsating in my ears, and I wanted to know if all this was related to the vagus nerve. He looked at me and said just a few clinical cold words, gave me no kindness, no emotional reassurance, no loving gentleness, no soft understanding. Nobody offered me even a glass of cold water, a hand to hold, a hug. He ordered me to do an echocardiogram, calcium score, and a Holter monitor. I looked into his eyes, begging for something that I was never to receive. I couldn't believe I was simply let go after the profound vulnerability which I expressed and the fragile emotional state I was in. The nurse installing my monitor told me to strip right in front of her without stepping away or giving me anything to cover my breasts as I was standing there holding my exposed breasts. She suddenly said she needed to get something from the other room and left me standing there, mortified, covering with my bare hands. She told me absolutely not a single word about the existence of a diary, which I later on found in the box when I was about to put the monitor back after the seven days. Apparently, this diary was supposed to be an important part of the process that she never once mentioned. The nurse who did my EKG told me everything looked fine. The technician who did my echo said that everything was structurally fine. The calcium score technician said my score was zero, perfect. My blood tests came back perfect. I sent my primary's clinic a long email asking about the future appointment dates as well as asking if any future special arrangements could be made to please see me since I was having a panic attack so severe in the lobby, and I wanted to see if Dr. Correia and Dr. Bryan could get together to see me next time. I never once received an email response whatsoever. It was as if my worst medical anxiety fears were manifested in this office experience. Everybody was incredibly cold, ignorant of my feelings, and robotic. I could see Dr. Correia could not wait to get out of the appointment with me. He showed no empathy for my fears. I suffered. I cried. I was brushed off. I felt abandoned as a human being sincerely needing help.