By Carol Levy, PNN Columnist

Recently, I heard a doctor on TV say something that seems to be common sense: a doctor must be the servant of his patient and not the master. The Hippocratic Oath says as much, that a doctor should be “a servant of people.”

Though the wording is old-fashioned, the point is well taken. I have experienced doctors trying to act as masters, not servants.

I’ll tell a doctor all of my symptoms, only to have her concentrate on one or two. Then she makes her pronouncement: “This is my diagnosis. This is the treatment I am prescribing.”

If I ask, “What about my other symptoms?” I’ll be dismissed.

“Try the treatment and if it’s not better, come back in six weeks.”

There’s no room for discussion. That’s the way a master would talk to a servant.

Some patients think they are the masters. They’ll say, “No you're wrong. I need and will only accept this medication or treatment.”

It seems many chronic pain patients, more so than others, are of two beliefs: we want the doctor to help us, to diagnose our condition and to end our pain to the best of their ability. That makes them somewhat our master.

But many of us also think we should be the master of the doctor when it comes to what he will give us to end our pain: “I want this drug, this dosage, and this number of pills.”'

I almost never hear someone say, “The doctor refuses to give me the test I want” or “She won't refer me to the specialist I want to see.” Pain patients tend to want those decisions left to the doctor.

In recent years, a major loss for doctors is their ability to be their own masters when it comes to prescribing pain medication, specifically opioids.

The best example I have of this is my own experience from decades ago. My ophthalmologist understood that my trigeminal neuralgia pain was unmanageable. He had nothing to offer that would completely eliminate my facial pain, but he wanted to at least mitigate it. He gave me with a prescription for an 8-ounce bottle of Tincture of Opium.

The first pharmacy I went to couldn't fill it because they didn't carry opium. But the pharmacist didn't look askance at me or the prescription. The second pharmacist I saw also gave me no debate, no questions, and no dirty or suspicious looks. Within 10 minutes, I left the pharmacy with a bottle of opium in my purse.

Of course, we all know that could never happen now.  I don't even know if a doctor can write a prescription for opium anymore. It is hard to be a master of the patient when your hands are tied, and you fear losing your livelihood, freedom or both.

When it comes to opioids, we cannot be masters of our doctor, no matter how much we may want to be. We can't insist that we need an opioid, when by law or fear, a doctor won’t comply.

What we need to accept is that neither doctor or patient should be master or servant of the other. Some doctors may not accept this and some patients may not want it, but the best relationship we can have with our medical providers is a partnership.

Doctors need to do a better job explaining why they prescribe something. And, if it is an opioid, why the amount and dosage is less than what we may want.  And we, as patients, need to understand that we can’t insist on what a doctor is unwilling to provide.

For partnerships to work, both sides need to come to a mutual understanding of what can and can't be done. Sometimes that means being disappointed. But disappointment that is based on mutual acceptance and respect can help mitigate the negative, allowing for a much better relationship.

Carol Jay Levy has lived with trigeminal neuralgia, a chronic facial pain disorder, for over 30 years. She is the author of “A Pained Life, A Chronic Pain Journey.”  Carol is the moderator of the Facebook support group “Women in Pain Awareness.” Her blog “The Pained Life” can be found here.