What would you think if I said, even if you keep your mental illness private, you are revealing just as much about yourself as I do in this tell-all newsletter?
Every medical office I go to asks me to sign a *blank* electronic pad. (CVS asks me to sign a pad, which they pressure me NOT to scroll through... often it is hiding a consent for auto-refill, so they bill my ins. co. for a refill, even if I ending up *not* wanting it.) If a dr's office does ask me to sign actual papers, the papers invariably say that I *agree* that I have received the HIPAA privacy policy -- and they never, ever actually do include it. Then we go through an ordeal, wherein they tell me that no one, ever, in 20 yrs has asked them for it, and they don't have a copy of it -- but I should sign anyway, saying I've received it.
I used to express anger and tell them they were asking me to commit fraud, blah blah blah. Now I just act, sort of, mystified, as if I am not capable of understanding what they're telling me. I act the same way with the blank electronic pad -- because the young staff is literally unable to understand why someone would not want to sign a blank screen. Instead of threatening to report them to some agency, I get a blank look on my face, and say, "Oh, I don't sign those things, could you give me the paper version?" I think it's my graying hair and fragile look, that ultimately gets me the paperwork.
Because, the thing with their office (so-called) "privacy policy," is that it says they can share your records with any other medical practice that they want to, without your consent -- and also, typically, that your info goes into an HIE (Health Information Exchange)... so that any other doctor in the same HIE has access to it. It sounds innocent enough. But it's actually like the Seinfeld episode: you have one bad experience with a doctor (e.g, the doctor is rude to you, and you tell him so), and then allll the future doctors see the notes from their colleagues, that you're difficult, confrontational, psychosomatic, etc. Then they get angry and accuse you of "doctor shopping" -- as if that's a *bad* thing! It has happened to me countless times. Being a female patient, going in alone, doesn't help. We're still treated as if we're at the auto mechanic. We're still constantly called "hon," we're still *repeatedly* patted on the knee by the dentist, we're still asked on dates while in the exam room -- it's exhausting.
So, yes I take those paper privacy notices, I email/call the privacy office, and I "opt-out," whenever possible. It's time consuming and frustrating. It doesn't prevent all the record-sharing. But it helps.
Anyway... the form that gives permission for the dr. to speak to your wife and family members, whom you delineate, is a completely different form, than the HIPAA "privacy policy" to which I am referring.
And I am sincerely very glad for you, George, that you have love and support through all of this. Thank you for keeping in touch with us via the substack, not only because you have a talent for putting into writing what we ourselves are dealing with, but also because we genuinely care about you.
You could always ask ChatGPT to write an 800 word essay with everything it can find about you on the internet, combine that with your credit report, add in everything you've ever bought online, from Amazon to InstaCart, then try to remember everything Siri heard you say in the last month and you'll have an idea of what I'm talking about.
Yup, privacy is now passe.
Every medical office I go to asks me to sign a *blank* electronic pad. (CVS asks me to sign a pad, which they pressure me NOT to scroll through... often it is hiding a consent for auto-refill, so they bill my ins. co. for a refill, even if I ending up *not* wanting it.) If a dr's office does ask me to sign actual papers, the papers invariably say that I *agree* that I have received the HIPAA privacy policy -- and they never, ever actually do include it. Then we go through an ordeal, wherein they tell me that no one, ever, in 20 yrs has asked them for it, and they don't have a copy of it -- but I should sign anyway, saying I've received it.
I used to express anger and tell them they were asking me to commit fraud, blah blah blah. Now I just act, sort of, mystified, as if I am not capable of understanding what they're telling me. I act the same way with the blank electronic pad -- because the young staff is literally unable to understand why someone would not want to sign a blank screen. Instead of threatening to report them to some agency, I get a blank look on my face, and say, "Oh, I don't sign those things, could you give me the paper version?" I think it's my graying hair and fragile look, that ultimately gets me the paperwork.
Because, the thing with their office (so-called) "privacy policy," is that it says they can share your records with any other medical practice that they want to, without your consent -- and also, typically, that your info goes into an HIE (Health Information Exchange)... so that any other doctor in the same HIE has access to it. It sounds innocent enough. But it's actually like the Seinfeld episode: you have one bad experience with a doctor (e.g, the doctor is rude to you, and you tell him so), and then allll the future doctors see the notes from their colleagues, that you're difficult, confrontational, psychosomatic, etc. Then they get angry and accuse you of "doctor shopping" -- as if that's a *bad* thing! It has happened to me countless times. Being a female patient, going in alone, doesn't help. We're still treated as if we're at the auto mechanic. We're still constantly called "hon," we're still *repeatedly* patted on the knee by the dentist, we're still asked on dates while in the exam room -- it's exhausting.
So, yes I take those paper privacy notices, I email/call the privacy office, and I "opt-out," whenever possible. It's time consuming and frustrating. It doesn't prevent all the record-sharing. But it helps.
Anyway... the form that gives permission for the dr. to speak to your wife and family members, whom you delineate, is a completely different form, than the HIPAA "privacy policy" to which I am referring.
And I am sincerely very glad for you, George, that you have love and support through all of this. Thank you for keeping in touch with us via the substack, not only because you have a talent for putting into writing what we ourselves are dealing with, but also because we genuinely care about you.
Thanks for letting me share my own frustration on this issue. : )
Thanks Janet, express yourself here anytime.
Wise words, George. I don’t like being the “product”. Nor do I relish an algorithm knowing more about me than I choose to tell it. Hmmmm.
You could always ask ChatGPT to write an 800 word essay with everything it can find about you on the internet, combine that with your credit report, add in everything you've ever bought online, from Amazon to InstaCart, then try to remember everything Siri heard you say in the last month and you'll have an idea of what I'm talking about.