Dr. Richard Steven Tindall, MD

paid liar for Emeritus Assisted Living, to cover up neglect and abuse. The guy is an enemy of vulnerable humans.

When entering office, a woman was on the floor, incapacitated, obviously in the throes of a seizure. Staff insisted it was hypoglycemia. The woman's young (7-ish) son told staff that his mom has been going through this frequently. Finally the son called his dad. (Staff called no one. A young child was left to handle everything!) This office is in a hospital, but the staff did not think to send her down to the ER, much less have Tindall check her himself immediately, being a neurologist and all! The woman finally came to somewhat, and we talked while I waited to be seen. The reason for her visit was these constant seizures (hypoglycemia, huh?!), but Tindall didn't give her the time of day because her referring doctor didn't send records to his satisfaction. Since when are records needed to examine a patient having a seizure right that moment, in his office?! No one bothered to do anything for her. Suffice it to say, this gave me extreme concern about my own visit. An hour and a half… after my scheduled appointment time, Dr. Tindall entered the exam room. He asked me where my pain is the worst. I told him everywhere is bad but my legs are often the worst, and he immediately told me that I don't have neuropathic pain, that my GP's referral to rule out polyneuralgia was wrong. I told him that my GP put "polymyositis" on my referral (shows how much Tindall read in my chart), and also that MS has not been ruled out. Tindall told me that I do not have either. No exam had been done, mind you; this conclusion was drawn simply by looking at me. He then manually tested strength/resistance in my hands, knees/legs, and feet. While I resisted, he told me to push against his hands; I told him I was pushing, but he didn't believe me. (My limbs were trembling from the effort.) My son broke in and said, "She is pushing. She is weak." Tindall replied, "She isn't weak, she just feels weak." (Huh?) He then tested my reflexes, and that was the end of the "exam" he performed on me. (No one even took my vitals.) From this so-called exam, he concluded that I do not have neurological pain. He then proceeded to ask me if I have heard of fibromyalgia. (Heard of it?! It's the latest fad! Oh, also, fibromyalgia is a central nervous system disorder; A.K.A., neurological!) I asked him how he can know whether or not I have neurological pain from testing my reflexes and strength, and he told me because I do not have paralysis. HUH?! His mannerism the entire exchange was rude, patronizing, and smug. By now, I was extremely upset and angry. I told him that it is SO frustrating to seek help from doctors, only to have them tell me that nothing is wrong with me; that just because someone doesn't look sick doesn't mean that nothing is wrong. He replied, "Oh, you LOOK sick," in a very rude tone. He then proceeded to tell me that there is nothing he can do for me. "So, what, no tests or anything?" No, he said, and furthermore he was out of time (it had been less than 10 minutes), and he then informed me that this would have been the only time he would have seen me anyway, because he is retiring in two weeks. That is when I blew. I was already ticked off, but that was it. I demanded to know WHY he would take a new patient when he was retiring in two weeks, that I had the right to know beforehand and decide whether to see someone else. His reply was that my insurance is supposed to know this. So I replied that I never spoke with my insurance about him, but his personal staff knew he was retiring when my appointment was made, and she could and should have informed me. (I waited over four months for this appointment!) I then told him that all of this was B.S., that I was just a quickie paycheck before he closed office for good, that I'd wasted an afternoon of energy and pain for nothing but him getting one more insurance under his belt. Then I left, in quite a huff. My son told me he'd meet me outside; he went up to Tindall and told him I didn't deserve to be treated like this, that all I want is to find out what is wrong with me and get help. Tindall told my son that what I need is to go to a psychiatrist, because I am "so emotional" about this, that what I need is antidepressants and sleeping pills, and I'll be fine. (Funny, my shrink was the first doctor I'd seen who not only believed me, but suspected MS back in 2006... the doctor who was supposed to tell me it's all in my head was the first doctor who assured me that it wasn't.) So, there you have it, folks! All I need is a psychiatrist to prescribe me antidepressants and sleeping pills, and this will resolve itself.