Jessica Lynne Page

I would. I came to her as my primary care provider with a very simple, reasonable request: a letter supporting an emotional support animal—a kitten—for my school apartment due to my ongoing struggles with anxiety. Not only did she dismiss my concerns, she acted as though I was making it up, saying I “didn’t have enough evidence of anxiety or depression.” That’s incredibly insulting, especially considering that nearly every visit I’ve ever had to a doctor has been because of anxiety. She didn’t ask questions, didn’t explore my history, and didn’t show the slightest bit of empathy. Instead, she treated me with cold indifference and made me feel like a burden. I actually left the appointment in tears. And as if that wasn’t enough, she wrapped up by smirking and asking, “Are you continuing care here or somewhere else?”—like my mental health was a joke to her. I’m still shaken by how demeaning and dismissive she was. She made me feel small, invalidated, and unheard over something as minor… as a request for a cat. I can’t stop replaying her expression in my mind.