I recently received a phone call from a friend who lives in San Francisco. I was at work, and it was 7 AM his time, so I was a bit surprised to see his name show up on my phone. I thought it was some sort of emergency. It turned out to be a medical question: he needed to see a doctor soon and he knew I had a good one when I was living in SF. Being Canadian, last time he needed to see a doctor he naturally went to the hospital that is 4 blocks from his house: SF General. Needless to say, he was shocked by what he saw. The hospital was filled with low-income people suffering from serious ailments and injuries, long lines to get any sort of treatment, and a building that was in sorry shape. So when he decided to do something about his latest medical quasi-emergency, a trip to SF General wasn’t his first option. I was.

This got me thinking about the status of our medical system in the US, and more specifically finding compassionate and understanding care from medical professionals who are queer-friendly. And it’s not easy.

The last time I got sick, it was strep throat. I was out of work for a week. I started coming down with symptoms on Sunday night. First thing Monday morning I called my regular doctor, who gave me an appointment for Tuesday afternoon. By the time my appointment rolled around, I was REALLY SICK. I could barely swallow, had a 100+ fever and I ached all over. If I had seen a doctor on Monday morning, I would have gotten medicated right away and would have not gotten so bad off. But as it worked out, I got sick enough that I stayed home for the rest of the week.

Because of this awful experience, I tried to find a new primary care physician. It was a nightmare. I had to resort to Google to find a list of queer-friendly doctors in the DC area. (Whatever happened to the Other Pages?) Then I had to cross-reference that list with my health insurance company’s online directory of doctors who are in my PPO network. Then the phone calls… I learned quickly that the first question to as is, “Do you still take xxxxxxx Insurance?” Doctors switch the plans and networks they work with all the time, and chances are your insurance company’s directory is woefully out of date. Once I found a queer friendly doctor who was on my plan and still accepted my insurance, the scheduling game started. The receptionist I talked to informed me that there was a 2-month waiting list for a first visit. Two months! When I told them I was interested in getting a physical, she tacked another month on. “Wow,” I thought. “Good think I’m not coming down with strep again.”

I then learned about how the Whitman Walker clinic is now offering primary care medical services and is taking insurance. I decided I’d call and check it out. Turns out, they have same-day clinics for primary care. The only hitch is that you need to make an appointment and get a physical before you can walk-in for the primary care clinic. So I made one, for nearly two months later. But since I was going to be using the WWC as a medical safety net, I figured I would wait and go get the physical so I could subsequently just walk in and get seen when I needed to.

And 6 weeks later, I did. I was seen by a kind and compassionate nurse practitioner who might have been a lesbian, but I’m not sure. She gave me the full once-over, and even informed me about the latest connections being made between HPV and anal/rectal cancer, and screened me for that nasty virus. (Damn that swab!) Now that I’ve been for my physical, I can go any time for any reason. But should I?

While founded as a gay men’s STD clinic, WWC has been focused since 1986 almost exclusively on “HIV/AIDS education, prevention, diagnosis and treatment.” Only in the past two years have they broadened their services to include non-STI-related services such as primary medical care and dental care. But what is their interest in widening the services they offer to the community? Are they trying to be more things to more people, or are they trying to provide full health services to their core customer base (persons with HIV/AIDS) who often have limited access to health insurance and quality care for other medical needs unrelated to their HIV-status? Am I taking up a valuable spot on their waiting room bench that could be used by someone who doesn’t have other medical options? Or on the flip side, perhaps my fully paid visit for primary care helps subsidize treatment at WWC for those not fortunate to have health insurance? Do my visits help bolster the clinic’s coffers? Or deplete their resources?

All of these thoughts were in my head when I checked DCist earlier today to find that more changes are taking place at the WWC. According to the Post article, the clinic is restructuring itself in hopes of drawing more patients as well as assist in paying its bills. The Post article also notes:

The clinic’s transformation reflects the expanding health issues of people for whom HIV and AIDS are now more chronic diseases than death sentences because of anti-retroviral drugs. But the added years are coming with complications not typically seen in middle-aged people, such as osteoporosis and heart disease.

The change also responds to the epidemic’s spread through the city across race, sex, age and geography. Blanchon cited a recent report by the D.C. HIV/AIDS Administration documenting the incidence in the African American community.

So still I wonder, am I one of the new patients they are seeking to reach out to? Or should I just stick it out with my doctor who makes me wait 36 hours before I can get antibiotics for an unfortunately common throat ailment?

Other Queer Health Resources:

• DC HIV/AIDS Administration page, including the latest Epidemiology Annual Report
• GayHealth.com, a good resource for health information
• Whitman-Walker Clinic GLBT Health Services

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