I've been off the blog for a bit of housesitting at Dinah's B & B, caring for Max the Magnificent. I must say it's been rather nice being away at a place with no Seroquel discussions, no one accusing me of abusing my "god-like powers" (I think I missed that class in medical school) or going on about how abusive and useless my profession is in general to my patients.
I haven't missed that. Besides being complete and utter poppycock (insert your own international colloquialisms here) it is just rather poor manners to come to a blog purely to insult the bloggers. I enjoy a good conversation but not when it turns to accusatory harangues.
If you don't like psychiatry or psychiatrists you are free to choose another healing paradigm if you wish. If you disagree with the parens patriae role of psychiatry you may go the legislature and change the civil commitment or involuntary treatment laws. Heavens, there are a couple states here in the US that have even authorized physician-assisted suicide.
I'm caring for Max now because he's afflicted with the condition of being a dog. Now maybe being a dog isn't a disease, but he still needs someone to look out for him and I've enjoyed doing it. I scratch Max's butt because that's what he wants. He comes to me regularly for it and I do it even though there is no scientific evidence whatsever that it will be helpful or therapeutic and I can't guarantee there won't be side effects or unforeseen harm from it. I've never forced a butt-scratching on him. I do things to prevent him from coming from harm even if that sometimes frustrates his wishes. These are just the basics of what you do when you're responsible for caring for another living creature.
Being willing to care requires no apology.