I Felt Like a Case Number
Last week I told you about my 284-day wait for a cardiologist in my insurance network. February 24, 2027.
This week, the wait came with a condition.
The call
I was at home when the phone rang. It was an administrator from the in-network cardiology office, something like a case manager.
She told me I had to stop seeing my current cardiologist, Dr. Senske, who is out of my network. If they found out I was still seeing him, they would automatically cancel my February appointment.
Then she needed my answer. Not next week. Not after I talked to my doctors. Right then, on the phone.
So I agreed.
The whole call took eight minutes. It felt much longer. Every minute, I felt more uneasy about what I was agreeing to.
When I hung up, I was angry. Not at her. She was doing her job. I was angry because it felt like someone had just twisted my arm, and I’d said yes because I didn’t see another way to keep my place in line.
What I was asked to give up
In mid-October, I restarted carvedilol, a heart medication, at the lowest dose. The plan was to start low, see how my body responds, then add a second medication in a few weeks.
The early numbers are encouraging. My heart rate is coming down, and my blood pressure is the best it’s been all year.
But I’m in the middle of that plan. And I just agreed to give up the doctor guiding it, for a cardiologist I haven’t met, in an office that can’t see me for four more months.
What I don’t know
That’s what bothers me most. I was asked to make a big decision without the information to make a good one.
I don’t know who my new cardiologist is, or how they practice. Will they look for the why behind my numbers, or just treat the numbers? Will they listen?
I don’t know who’s watching my heart between now and February. I was told to go back to my primary care doctor.
And I know this system is backed up everywhere, not just in cardiology. The sleep clinic. Endocrinology. Every door I’ve knocked on has a line behind it.
A case number, not a person
In May, I ended up in the ER. A heart monitor later caught a six-beat run of an abnormal rhythm while I was asleep. I’m in the middle of a medication change.
When I asked what happens if something goes wrong before February, the answer was: if anything changes with how you feel, give us a call, and we’ll see if we can fit you in sooner.
I asked about a cancellation list. They don’t have one.
Last week, I told you to ask for the cancellation list. This week I learned that not every office has one. Lesson learned, and I’m passing it on.
On paper, I’m a patient with an appointment. In real life, I’m a man with a heart problem and nobody clearly in charge of it until February.
That’s what it feels like to be a case number.
The part I didn’t expect
Here’s the honest twist. I was already thinking about leaving Dr. Senske.
He agreed to my request to start my new medication low and build up slowly, with a path to eventually cutting back on one I already take. I’m very grateful for that.
But when I asked him for a test that might help explain my numbers, he said no. He told me to get it from my primary care doctor instead, and that his system “would not even accommodate it.”
That wasn’t true. Five years ago, in that same clinic, my first heart clinician, Dr Glendale, ordered that exact test for me. Before he left, he gave me one more thing: a prescription for the continuous glucose monitor that changed how I eat.
My guess? Dr. Senske didn’t want to be responsible for what the results might show. I’ll never know for sure. But I’ve been looking for a doctor who wants to understand why, not just what.
So part of me is relieved to have a reason to move on. And part of me is afraid the next doctor will be even more inflexible.
I wanted to choose my next cardiologist. Instead, the choice was made for me, in an eight-minute phone call.
What I’m doing now
Asking Dr. Senske’s office for a written plan for the rest of my carvedilol and the next medication, so nothing gets lost in the handoff.
Asking my primary care doctor, Dr. Marsh, if she’s comfortable managing my heart medications until February.
Learning everything I can about my new cardiologist before I walk in.
Logging my numbers every day, so if something changes, I can show it, not just say it.
And I’m not changing my medication on my own while this gets sorted out. The plan stays the plan.
Now I want to hear from you
Have you ever been forced to choose between doctors? Or felt like a case number instead of a person?
Hit reply. I read every one.
Dennis
Cardiac Survivor · Your Friend in Recovery
Spokane, Washington
I’m a heart attack survivor, not a doctor. This is my personal experience and is for educational purposes only. Talk with your own care team before changing anything about your treatment.
P.S. Missed last week’s issue? Read “284 Days” here.