Dr. Randy Cima talks about Psychiatry’s dirty little secret.
One day, a boy had to be hurried to the psychiatrist. The doctor’s office called and said there was a last minute cancellation, and my supervisor picked me to take him to the doctor’s office.
I was a little nervous. I had pestered this doctor with my questions, apparently to the breaking point. I was nearly 30 by then, I had two kids of my own, and I wanted clear answers. I don’t do well with platitudes. I guess it showed. At some point he decided he didn’t want to answer any more of my questions, especially when he found out I had a bachelor’s degree in sociology. So, this time, I walked in with one of the boys and I quietly found a seat. The boy was soon escorted to a room in the back where he would wait to see the doctor.
It was late in the day…
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