Finding health workers that put me at ease

Molly talks about how some health workers made her unwilling to be open about recreational drug use. And the slightly unorthodox way some ER workers put her at ease.

One of the practices that I used to go to in Newtown had a sign on the door that said, “We don't prescribe benzos”. I've seen that kind of thing at a couple of places, and it really puts me on high alert. Even before I identified as a person who uses drugs, it always put me on edge, making me think: "Oh, I've got to watch what I say."

When I was seeing the doctor at this practice, I wasn't using a lot of drugs, but it still set off that little warning in my head. A sign like that suggests to me that — to use a slur — they are trying to "weed out the junkies".

I've had a psychologist for a while who I eventually stopped seeing for a number of reasons related to power imbalance and us being just very different. Some of the stuff she said to me was just not fucking accessible. I eventually stopped seeing her because we were just very different. Like, different life experiences and socio-economic backgrounds. In the end I just got tired of explaining to her what it's like to be like a poor, queer migrant.

But at some point during the time I was seeing her as a patient, I emailed her at 2 am and I was a bit drunk and possibly on coke. That became a very big deal. She chewed me out for emailing her unprofessionally and suggested that I needed to go to rehab. I hadn’t realised as the person with mental health issues that I was the one who was supposed to be the professional partner in the relationship.

To be honest, I don’t think I would have qualified for rehab then or now – I simply don’t use enough drugs nor am I adversely affected by my drug taking. But that incident started the regular question: "How's your drug use?" at the beginning of every session. And that kind of meant that although that wasn’t why I was seeing her, we talked about it a lot.

Fortunately, I have a psych now who waits for me to bring it up. When I do, we talk about it but if I don’t, she doesn’t go there – it is just not in the forefront of her mind. My current doctor is similar. I’m not constantly worrying that every consultation will be about drugs, simply because I have talked about it a few times.

I have not had any seriously bad experiences with health professionals, but I’ve always had the expectation that doctors would treat me differently.

In part, it was the fact that a lot of them rushed through things.

I got into the habit of lying to doctors, intuitively. Not a lot of doctors asked up front about drugs, they asked about how much I was drinking and smoking and I just automatically would say less than what it was. Partly out of habit, like, "Oh, it's a figure of authority, I should lie to them."

A lot of times I've minimised how much I drank. I would indicate that I drank often, and that I occasionally binge drank, but I would kind of decrease the extent. So I would say, "Yeah, once a week, I'll have 10 standards," even if the reality was more like 3 times a week I'd have 12 standards. I would indicate that binge drinking was part of what I did, but I would decrease the frequency.

I don't know how much of that was just the general shame that is, not just in the medical system, but it's generally around in the air around people who use substances a lot, and how much of it was a specific expectation that the doctor would be a jerk.

Until I found a good doctor, I just wasn't open about my drug use. I felt I could not really volunteer the information like, "Hey, I'm using a lot of cocaine at the moment and I'm not really in control of it. Help." Saying that would have been something that would not have occurred to me at all.

I would have never said that to anyone at a practice with a "No benzos" sign because it's pretty obvious how they treat people who might want drugs, and therefore people who use drugs.

Now, I am a lot more comfortable talking about it although recently I have not been taking a lot of drugs other than weed, and I've gotten fairly comfortable telling people about my weed use. For example, I mentioned it to a physio who I was seeing for migraines. When they asked, "What are you doing when you have a migraine?", I replied, "Codeine and weed".

Because cannabis is a more socially acceptable drug and because it is possible to get it on prescription, I find it easier to be open about using it. No-one has asked, "Are you prescribed?" I've just said that's what I use for pain management. And that's true. They don't need to know whether it's legal or not.

I think there's also a little risk assessment that I do in my mind: what is socially acceptable? And also, what's relevant? In the back of my mind, there's a little like risk matrix like, “Oh, I need to tell them about this but maybe this is a bit much…”

There's still a stigma associated with being a heavy drinker, despite its legality. I'll tell them about weed but leave out the fact that I use black market Valium for the management of my back pain. Because that seems a little bit more like it's likely to raise a red flag and more likely to end up derailing the conversation into my occasional black market Valium use, as opposed to the actual problem, which is my sciatica.

I recently fractured my hand punching a wall. I went to the doctor, obviously quite embarrassed by it, and I felt like she was a bit judgmental about my wall punching, whereas at the hospital I went to, the ER doctor who saw me was actually incredibly non-judgmental.

He asked: "How did you do this?" and I replied, "I punched the wall." And he said, "Oh, yep, I've done that before. Broke this knuckle." Very nice!

They then kind of asked about what the circumstances were. I said that I was drunk and he asked how much I'd be drinking. This was towards the end of August, in the second month of lockdown, when things were a bit nightmarish. And he said, "Yep, I understand you're drinking a lot. I was drinking a lot, too. But that's a bit much to do it for a long time but if that's what you need to cope, that's okay. Just make sure it doesn't continue forever.”

And that made me feel so at ease. I walked in there, pretty ashamed of drunkenly punching a wall and fracturing my hand, and his approach to it was: "Everything that you're doing, everything that's happened, is fine. Everything that you're doing is actually okay. Everything is terrible right now, so it's understandable. But just keep an eye on the drinking so it doesn't become a long-term thing,” which was great.

It was the same with the with the x-ray tech, who also said that she's punched a wall. I don't know if people at that hospital are taught to tell people that they've done the same thing to make everyone feel comfortable, or if it's just staffed by people who are really into angry wall punching but, fuck, it made me feel so at ease!

Read more: If you liked reading Molly’s thoughts on stigma in the health system , read Wayne and Siobhan share their experiences and ideas.