How to get prescribed ADHD medication in the Netherlands, a guide based on real world success:
-
How to get prescribed ADHD medication in the Netherlands, a guide based on real world success:
1) spend over a year repeatedly trying to tell the GP that it’s not going well and you need help. This will not cost you money, only your precious finite time on this earth. It helps if you have a husband to drag you to the doctor when you’re at your lowest and argue with them
2) finally get escalated to a psychologist who takes a few months to be sure there’s definitely something wrong. She will recommend the GP to prescribe ADHD medication
3) Your prescription mysteriously disappears into the system. After several attempts to follow up that take months, and several confused phone calls from your psychologist to the GP, it turns out the GP refuses to authorize it because *shrug* reasons. Maybe if a psychiatrist also signs off on it?
4) You attempt to get an appointment with a psychiatrist. Every psychiatrist in the Netherlands is booked until 2034.
5) Finally, after a dozen rounds of pleading and nagging, you get a mysterious phone call from an unknown number. They give you an address and tell you to be there at 7 in the evening.
6) You find yourself at the door of a historic art deco mansion in the most exclusive district of Amsterdam. There is absolutely no indication that this is a medical practice. You ring the doorbell. Nothing happens. You wait nervously, and try again.
7) The door creaks open. An elderly man wearing crocs stands before you. He silently bids you follow him up a winding staircase to a parlor filled with a thousand thick and aging books in every tongue of the earth and perhaps a few also of the angels. They concern prophecy, and music, and poetry, and the apocalypse.
In a thin whisper of a voice barely to be heard, he asks your name, and where you were born. He slowly, very slowly, so slowly that you think you have died and this is purgatory, types this into a computer. It is in his lap because his desk is covered with strange devices beyond identification. 9) He tells you the prescription will be ready for pickup tomorrow.
I feel a deep kinship with the eldritch cryptid that you met, and I hope his researches into the occult depths are fruitful.
-
How to get prescribed ADHD medication in the Netherlands, a guide based on real world success:
1) spend over a year repeatedly trying to tell the GP that it’s not going well and you need help. This will not cost you money, only your precious finite time on this earth. It helps if you have a husband to drag you to the doctor when you’re at your lowest and argue with them
2) finally get escalated to a psychologist who takes a few months to be sure there’s definitely something wrong. She will recommend the GP to prescribe ADHD medication
3) Your prescription mysteriously disappears into the system. After several attempts to follow up that take months, and several confused phone calls from your psychologist to the GP, it turns out the GP refuses to authorize it because *shrug* reasons. Maybe if a psychiatrist also signs off on it?
4) You attempt to get an appointment with a psychiatrist. Every psychiatrist in the Netherlands is booked until 2034.
5) Finally, after a dozen rounds of pleading and nagging, you get a mysterious phone call from an unknown number. They give you an address and tell you to be there at 7 in the evening.
6) You find yourself at the door of a historic art deco mansion in the most exclusive district of Amsterdam. There is absolutely no indication that this is a medical practice. You ring the doorbell. Nothing happens. You wait nervously, and try again.
7) The door creaks open. An elderly man wearing crocs stands before you. He silently bids you follow him up a winding staircase to a parlor filled with a thousand thick and aging books in every tongue of the earth and perhaps a few also of the angels. They concern prophecy, and music, and poetry, and the apocalypse.
In a thin whisper of a voice barely to be heard, he asks your name, and where you were born. He slowly, very slowly, so slowly that you think you have died and this is purgatory, types this into a computer. It is in his lap because his desk is covered with strange devices beyond identification. 9) He tells you the prescription will be ready for pickup tomorrow.
@0xabad1dea You should somehow work this story into your VN
-
How to get prescribed ADHD medication in the Netherlands, a guide based on real world success:
1) spend over a year repeatedly trying to tell the GP that it’s not going well and you need help. This will not cost you money, only your precious finite time on this earth. It helps if you have a husband to drag you to the doctor when you’re at your lowest and argue with them
2) finally get escalated to a psychologist who takes a few months to be sure there’s definitely something wrong. She will recommend the GP to prescribe ADHD medication
3) Your prescription mysteriously disappears into the system. After several attempts to follow up that take months, and several confused phone calls from your psychologist to the GP, it turns out the GP refuses to authorize it because *shrug* reasons. Maybe if a psychiatrist also signs off on it?
4) You attempt to get an appointment with a psychiatrist. Every psychiatrist in the Netherlands is booked until 2034.
5) Finally, after a dozen rounds of pleading and nagging, you get a mysterious phone call from an unknown number. They give you an address and tell you to be there at 7 in the evening.
6) You find yourself at the door of a historic art deco mansion in the most exclusive district of Amsterdam. There is absolutely no indication that this is a medical practice. You ring the doorbell. Nothing happens. You wait nervously, and try again.
7) The door creaks open. An elderly man wearing crocs stands before you. He silently bids you follow him up a winding staircase to a parlor filled with a thousand thick and aging books in every tongue of the earth and perhaps a few also of the angels. They concern prophecy, and music, and poetry, and the apocalypse.
In a thin whisper of a voice barely to be heard, he asks your name, and where you were born. He slowly, very slowly, so slowly that you think you have died and this is purgatory, types this into a computer. It is in his lap because his desk is covered with strange devices beyond identification. 9) He tells you the prescription will be ready for pickup tomorrow.
@0xabad1dea why did physicians become so callous
-
If your client cuts this off after the first few sentences, I guarantee the back half is more interesting than the first
@0xabad1dea he could as well have told you god will fight you tomorrow and it might have made more sense
-
How to get prescribed ADHD medication in the Netherlands, a guide based on real world success:
1) spend over a year repeatedly trying to tell the GP that it’s not going well and you need help. This will not cost you money, only your precious finite time on this earth. It helps if you have a husband to drag you to the doctor when you’re at your lowest and argue with them
2) finally get escalated to a psychologist who takes a few months to be sure there’s definitely something wrong. She will recommend the GP to prescribe ADHD medication
3) Your prescription mysteriously disappears into the system. After several attempts to follow up that take months, and several confused phone calls from your psychologist to the GP, it turns out the GP refuses to authorize it because *shrug* reasons. Maybe if a psychiatrist also signs off on it?
4) You attempt to get an appointment with a psychiatrist. Every psychiatrist in the Netherlands is booked until 2034.
5) Finally, after a dozen rounds of pleading and nagging, you get a mysterious phone call from an unknown number. They give you an address and tell you to be there at 7 in the evening.
6) You find yourself at the door of a historic art deco mansion in the most exclusive district of Amsterdam. There is absolutely no indication that this is a medical practice. You ring the doorbell. Nothing happens. You wait nervously, and try again.
7) The door creaks open. An elderly man wearing crocs stands before you. He silently bids you follow him up a winding staircase to a parlor filled with a thousand thick and aging books in every tongue of the earth and perhaps a few also of the angels. They concern prophecy, and music, and poetry, and the apocalypse.
In a thin whisper of a voice barely to be heard, he asks your name, and where you were born. He slowly, very slowly, so slowly that you think you have died and this is purgatory, types this into a computer. It is in his lap because his desk is covered with strange devices beyond identification. 9) He tells you the prescription will be ready for pickup tomorrow.
@0xabad1dea
Point 4): either dutch people don't want to become psychiatrists, or there is something rotten in the tulip fields.
Also, for a country (that used to be) so liberal on drug usage, this is borderline kafkaian -
How to get prescribed ADHD medication in the Netherlands, a guide based on real world success:
1) spend over a year repeatedly trying to tell the GP that it’s not going well and you need help. This will not cost you money, only your precious finite time on this earth. It helps if you have a husband to drag you to the doctor when you’re at your lowest and argue with them
2) finally get escalated to a psychologist who takes a few months to be sure there’s definitely something wrong. She will recommend the GP to prescribe ADHD medication
3) Your prescription mysteriously disappears into the system. After several attempts to follow up that take months, and several confused phone calls from your psychologist to the GP, it turns out the GP refuses to authorize it because *shrug* reasons. Maybe if a psychiatrist also signs off on it?
4) You attempt to get an appointment with a psychiatrist. Every psychiatrist in the Netherlands is booked until 2034.
5) Finally, after a dozen rounds of pleading and nagging, you get a mysterious phone call from an unknown number. They give you an address and tell you to be there at 7 in the evening.
6) You find yourself at the door of a historic art deco mansion in the most exclusive district of Amsterdam. There is absolutely no indication that this is a medical practice. You ring the doorbell. Nothing happens. You wait nervously, and try again.
7) The door creaks open. An elderly man wearing crocs stands before you. He silently bids you follow him up a winding staircase to a parlor filled with a thousand thick and aging books in every tongue of the earth and perhaps a few also of the angels. They concern prophecy, and music, and poetry, and the apocalypse.
In a thin whisper of a voice barely to be heard, he asks your name, and where you were born. He slowly, very slowly, so slowly that you think you have died and this is purgatory, types this into a computer. It is in his lap because his desk is covered with strange devices beyond identification. 9) He tells you the prescription will be ready for pickup tomorrow.
@0xabad1dea Ah yes, I have the Belgian variation where the neurologist (I went directly to a specialist) believes this is just anxiety, prescribes the lowest dosage possible then immediately gives up medication when it doesn't work and sends their patient to an ADHD-specialized psychologist to just accept the condition (to be fair, acceptance is part of reducing ADHD-fueled anxiety).
-
How to get prescribed ADHD medication in the Netherlands, a guide based on real world success:
1) spend over a year repeatedly trying to tell the GP that it’s not going well and you need help. This will not cost you money, only your precious finite time on this earth. It helps if you have a husband to drag you to the doctor when you’re at your lowest and argue with them
2) finally get escalated to a psychologist who takes a few months to be sure there’s definitely something wrong. She will recommend the GP to prescribe ADHD medication
3) Your prescription mysteriously disappears into the system. After several attempts to follow up that take months, and several confused phone calls from your psychologist to the GP, it turns out the GP refuses to authorize it because *shrug* reasons. Maybe if a psychiatrist also signs off on it?
4) You attempt to get an appointment with a psychiatrist. Every psychiatrist in the Netherlands is booked until 2034.
5) Finally, after a dozen rounds of pleading and nagging, you get a mysterious phone call from an unknown number. They give you an address and tell you to be there at 7 in the evening.
6) You find yourself at the door of a historic art deco mansion in the most exclusive district of Amsterdam. There is absolutely no indication that this is a medical practice. You ring the doorbell. Nothing happens. You wait nervously, and try again.
7) The door creaks open. An elderly man wearing crocs stands before you. He silently bids you follow him up a winding staircase to a parlor filled with a thousand thick and aging books in every tongue of the earth and perhaps a few also of the angels. They concern prophecy, and music, and poetry, and the apocalypse.
In a thin whisper of a voice barely to be heard, he asks your name, and where you were born. He slowly, very slowly, so slowly that you think you have died and this is purgatory, types this into a computer. It is in his lap because his desk is covered with strange devices beyond identification. 9) He tells you the prescription will be ready for pickup tomorrow.
@0xabad1dea In Germany my mom got my diagnosis as a child and somehow I only needed to go to a neuro psychiatrist, fill out a form, get an EKG and then I got my meds. I have no idea how hard or easy it is to get that if you haven't been diagnosed yet.
Now my biggest hurdle is to get a new prescription because i have to go in person and the doctor is only there at very inconvenient times. And because it is classified as a narcotic I HAVE TO do it myself.
-
How to get prescribed ADHD medication in the Netherlands, a guide based on real world success:
1) spend over a year repeatedly trying to tell the GP that it’s not going well and you need help. This will not cost you money, only your precious finite time on this earth. It helps if you have a husband to drag you to the doctor when you’re at your lowest and argue with them
2) finally get escalated to a psychologist who takes a few months to be sure there’s definitely something wrong. She will recommend the GP to prescribe ADHD medication
3) Your prescription mysteriously disappears into the system. After several attempts to follow up that take months, and several confused phone calls from your psychologist to the GP, it turns out the GP refuses to authorize it because *shrug* reasons. Maybe if a psychiatrist also signs off on it?
4) You attempt to get an appointment with a psychiatrist. Every psychiatrist in the Netherlands is booked until 2034.
5) Finally, after a dozen rounds of pleading and nagging, you get a mysterious phone call from an unknown number. They give you an address and tell you to be there at 7 in the evening.
6) You find yourself at the door of a historic art deco mansion in the most exclusive district of Amsterdam. There is absolutely no indication that this is a medical practice. You ring the doorbell. Nothing happens. You wait nervously, and try again.
7) The door creaks open. An elderly man wearing crocs stands before you. He silently bids you follow him up a winding staircase to a parlor filled with a thousand thick and aging books in every tongue of the earth and perhaps a few also of the angels. They concern prophecy, and music, and poetry, and the apocalypse.
In a thin whisper of a voice barely to be heard, he asks your name, and where you were born. He slowly, very slowly, so slowly that you think you have died and this is purgatory, types this into a computer. It is in his lap because his desk is covered with strange devices beyond identification. 9) He tells you the prescription will be ready for pickup tomorrow.
@0xabad1dea I have a different story and I'm stuck elsewhere in the timeline.
1) Go to GP, GP refers you to the own practice's mental health support employee (GGZ ondersteuner)
2) Filling in an online survey
3) Said support employee saying "you only have a score of 5 out of 6 for ADHD on the preliminary screening, I don't see a point in referring you for a formal diagnosis, you'll wait for ages and I don't believe in medication anyway" -
@0xabad1dea
Point 4): either dutch people don't want to become psychiatrists, or there is something rotten in the tulip fields.
Also, for a country (that used to be) so liberal on drug usage, this is borderline kafkaian@Monsieur_Lepetit it’s not limited to psychiatrists — the system as a whole is perpetually understaffed just enough that it clogs but doesn’t collapse entirely. If you have an urgent, life threatening problem, you will receive urgent care; otherwise waiting times stretch into months
-
and then the final, crucial step is to come home to Odin
A natural antidepressant!
-
P pixelate@tweesecake.social shared this topic
-
If your client cuts this off after the first few sentences, I guarantee the back half is more interesting than the first
@0xabad1dea so what i'm getting from this is that ADHD meds are a bit like the potion in Death Becomes Her?
-
@0xabad1dea You should somehow work this story into your VN
@mcgrew this honestly isn't too far off from the existing planned scene "Ravelin is captured by a very wise, scholarly god who would like to know what on EARTH she is doing blipping in and out of existence"
-
@0xabad1dea In the United States this process is much simpler, shorter, and quicker.
1. Doctor prescribes the medication, and 2. Insurance company denies it because it's not medically necessary.
@snow @0xabad1dea Damn, I guess I had it easy here in Poland. First of all, psychiatric care here doesn't even require that you have health insurance, even the universal healthcare one. I walked into the center on June 6th last year, got my first evaluation/classification appointment on July 10th (first of maybe three, with psychologists). Then a series of appointments with the assigned psychiatrist. We did autism spectrum and ADHD diagnostic evaluation.
-
@snow @0xabad1dea Damn, I guess I had it easy here in Poland. First of all, psychiatric care here doesn't even require that you have health insurance, even the universal healthcare one. I walked into the center on June 6th last year, got my first evaluation/classification appointment on July 10th (first of maybe three, with psychologists). Then a series of appointments with the assigned psychiatrist. We did autism spectrum and ADHD diagnostic evaluation.
@snow @0xabad1dea Got spectrum diagnosis first. For ADHD we did DIVA test, where I scored just below the threshold, but the psychiatrist said that he's gonna test ADHD meds anyway. I got my first Concerta and Medikinet prescription May 5th this year. My visits are free of charge. I paid for a bottle of 30 Concerta 18mg pills about 10 Euros. My next visit is on June 30th.
-
How to get prescribed ADHD medication in the Netherlands, a guide based on real world success:
1) spend over a year repeatedly trying to tell the GP that it’s not going well and you need help. This will not cost you money, only your precious finite time on this earth. It helps if you have a husband to drag you to the doctor when you’re at your lowest and argue with them
2) finally get escalated to a psychologist who takes a few months to be sure there’s definitely something wrong. She will recommend the GP to prescribe ADHD medication
3) Your prescription mysteriously disappears into the system. After several attempts to follow up that take months, and several confused phone calls from your psychologist to the GP, it turns out the GP refuses to authorize it because *shrug* reasons. Maybe if a psychiatrist also signs off on it?
4) You attempt to get an appointment with a psychiatrist. Every psychiatrist in the Netherlands is booked until 2034.
5) Finally, after a dozen rounds of pleading and nagging, you get a mysterious phone call from an unknown number. They give you an address and tell you to be there at 7 in the evening.
6) You find yourself at the door of a historic art deco mansion in the most exclusive district of Amsterdam. There is absolutely no indication that this is a medical practice. You ring the doorbell. Nothing happens. You wait nervously, and try again.
7) The door creaks open. An elderly man wearing crocs stands before you. He silently bids you follow him up a winding staircase to a parlor filled with a thousand thick and aging books in every tongue of the earth and perhaps a few also of the angels. They concern prophecy, and music, and poetry, and the apocalypse.
In a thin whisper of a voice barely to be heard, he asks your name, and where you were born. He slowly, very slowly, so slowly that you think you have died and this is purgatory, types this into a computer. It is in his lap because his desk is covered with strange devices beyond identification. 9) He tells you the prescription will be ready for pickup tomorrow.
@0xabad1dea we have this problem in the UK too where GPs serve no purpose except to deny medical care. It's a mystery to me what society thinks we need them for.
-
How to get prescribed ADHD medication in the Netherlands, a guide based on real world success:
1) spend over a year repeatedly trying to tell the GP that it’s not going well and you need help. This will not cost you money, only your precious finite time on this earth. It helps if you have a husband to drag you to the doctor when you’re at your lowest and argue with them
2) finally get escalated to a psychologist who takes a few months to be sure there’s definitely something wrong. She will recommend the GP to prescribe ADHD medication
3) Your prescription mysteriously disappears into the system. After several attempts to follow up that take months, and several confused phone calls from your psychologist to the GP, it turns out the GP refuses to authorize it because *shrug* reasons. Maybe if a psychiatrist also signs off on it?
4) You attempt to get an appointment with a psychiatrist. Every psychiatrist in the Netherlands is booked until 2034.
5) Finally, after a dozen rounds of pleading and nagging, you get a mysterious phone call from an unknown number. They give you an address and tell you to be there at 7 in the evening.
6) You find yourself at the door of a historic art deco mansion in the most exclusive district of Amsterdam. There is absolutely no indication that this is a medical practice. You ring the doorbell. Nothing happens. You wait nervously, and try again.
7) The door creaks open. An elderly man wearing crocs stands before you. He silently bids you follow him up a winding staircase to a parlor filled with a thousand thick and aging books in every tongue of the earth and perhaps a few also of the angels. They concern prophecy, and music, and poetry, and the apocalypse.
In a thin whisper of a voice barely to be heard, he asks your name, and where you were born. He slowly, very slowly, so slowly that you think you have died and this is purgatory, types this into a computer. It is in his lap because his desk is covered with strange devices beyond identification. 9) He tells you the prescription will be ready for pickup tomorrow.
@0xabad1dea Psychologist at step 2? The profession that _does not diagnose nor prescribes medicine_?
Go to Poland to get diagnosed. Ask for the diagnosis in English. Use it to skip to the end of the process in the Netherlands.
Will probably end up saving money that way.
-
How to get prescribed ADHD medication in the Netherlands, a guide based on real world success:
1) spend over a year repeatedly trying to tell the GP that it’s not going well and you need help. This will not cost you money, only your precious finite time on this earth. It helps if you have a husband to drag you to the doctor when you’re at your lowest and argue with them
2) finally get escalated to a psychologist who takes a few months to be sure there’s definitely something wrong. She will recommend the GP to prescribe ADHD medication
3) Your prescription mysteriously disappears into the system. After several attempts to follow up that take months, and several confused phone calls from your psychologist to the GP, it turns out the GP refuses to authorize it because *shrug* reasons. Maybe if a psychiatrist also signs off on it?
4) You attempt to get an appointment with a psychiatrist. Every psychiatrist in the Netherlands is booked until 2034.
5) Finally, after a dozen rounds of pleading and nagging, you get a mysterious phone call from an unknown number. They give you an address and tell you to be there at 7 in the evening.
6) You find yourself at the door of a historic art deco mansion in the most exclusive district of Amsterdam. There is absolutely no indication that this is a medical practice. You ring the doorbell. Nothing happens. You wait nervously, and try again.
7) The door creaks open. An elderly man wearing crocs stands before you. He silently bids you follow him up a winding staircase to a parlor filled with a thousand thick and aging books in every tongue of the earth and perhaps a few also of the angels. They concern prophecy, and music, and poetry, and the apocalypse.
In a thin whisper of a voice barely to be heard, he asks your name, and where you were born. He slowly, very slowly, so slowly that you think you have died and this is purgatory, types this into a computer. It is in his lap because his desk is covered with strange devices beyond identification. 9) He tells you the prescription will be ready for pickup tomorrow.
Reads like a story from Borges
-
@Monsieur_Lepetit it’s not limited to psychiatrists — the system as a whole is perpetually understaffed just enough that it clogs but doesn’t collapse entirely. If you have an urgent, life threatening problem, you will receive urgent care; otherwise waiting times stretch into months
@0xabad1dea @Monsieur_Lepetit I worked for a small company that, among other things, is automating dealing with insurance for physiotherapy practices in Netherlands.
I wouldn’t fault anyone dealing with that for changing their profession.
-
How to get prescribed ADHD medication in the Netherlands, a guide based on real world success:
1) spend over a year repeatedly trying to tell the GP that it’s not going well and you need help. This will not cost you money, only your precious finite time on this earth. It helps if you have a husband to drag you to the doctor when you’re at your lowest and argue with them
2) finally get escalated to a psychologist who takes a few months to be sure there’s definitely something wrong. She will recommend the GP to prescribe ADHD medication
3) Your prescription mysteriously disappears into the system. After several attempts to follow up that take months, and several confused phone calls from your psychologist to the GP, it turns out the GP refuses to authorize it because *shrug* reasons. Maybe if a psychiatrist also signs off on it?
4) You attempt to get an appointment with a psychiatrist. Every psychiatrist in the Netherlands is booked until 2034.
5) Finally, after a dozen rounds of pleading and nagging, you get a mysterious phone call from an unknown number. They give you an address and tell you to be there at 7 in the evening.
6) You find yourself at the door of a historic art deco mansion in the most exclusive district of Amsterdam. There is absolutely no indication that this is a medical practice. You ring the doorbell. Nothing happens. You wait nervously, and try again.
7) The door creaks open. An elderly man wearing crocs stands before you. He silently bids you follow him up a winding staircase to a parlor filled with a thousand thick and aging books in every tongue of the earth and perhaps a few also of the angels. They concern prophecy, and music, and poetry, and the apocalypse.
In a thin whisper of a voice barely to be heard, he asks your name, and where you were born. He slowly, very slowly, so slowly that you think you have died and this is purgatory, types this into a computer. It is in his lap because his desk is covered with strange devices beyond identification. 9) He tells you the prescription will be ready for pickup tomorrow.
@0xabad1dea does a Grue appear at any point?
-
R relay@relay.infosec.exchange shared this topic
-
How to get prescribed ADHD medication in the Netherlands, a guide based on real world success:
1) spend over a year repeatedly trying to tell the GP that it’s not going well and you need help. This will not cost you money, only your precious finite time on this earth. It helps if you have a husband to drag you to the doctor when you’re at your lowest and argue with them
2) finally get escalated to a psychologist who takes a few months to be sure there’s definitely something wrong. She will recommend the GP to prescribe ADHD medication
3) Your prescription mysteriously disappears into the system. After several attempts to follow up that take months, and several confused phone calls from your psychologist to the GP, it turns out the GP refuses to authorize it because *shrug* reasons. Maybe if a psychiatrist also signs off on it?
4) You attempt to get an appointment with a psychiatrist. Every psychiatrist in the Netherlands is booked until 2034.
5) Finally, after a dozen rounds of pleading and nagging, you get a mysterious phone call from an unknown number. They give you an address and tell you to be there at 7 in the evening.
6) You find yourself at the door of a historic art deco mansion in the most exclusive district of Amsterdam. There is absolutely no indication that this is a medical practice. You ring the doorbell. Nothing happens. You wait nervously, and try again.
7) The door creaks open. An elderly man wearing crocs stands before you. He silently bids you follow him up a winding staircase to a parlor filled with a thousand thick and aging books in every tongue of the earth and perhaps a few also of the angels. They concern prophecy, and music, and poetry, and the apocalypse.
In a thin whisper of a voice barely to be heard, he asks your name, and where you were born. He slowly, very slowly, so slowly that you think you have died and this is purgatory, types this into a computer. It is in his lap because his desk is covered with strange devices beyond identification. 9) He tells you the prescription will be ready for pickup tomorrow.
@0xabad1dea epic. And you got meds at the end. Bravo for persistence.
