Ask Dr. Ding

Dr. Ding is aghast, having read recent and unavoidable accounts of Dr. Phil attempting to minister to one Britney Spears, uninvited and without apparent hospital privileges.

To put this in perspective: imagine if Dr. Ding were to suddenly show up, say, whenever a celebrity were admitted to detoxification/drug & alcohol treatment/psychiatric unit?

“Hello!” I’d say warmly to the good people at the front desk. “I just flew in from H-town, and although I don’t have admitting privileges and am in no way acquainted with any patients here, I’d like to visit Liza With A Z/Lindsey Lohan/that guy who played Chandler on ‘Friends’ please. HIPAA? What’s that? You see, I’m a psychologist, here are copies of my licenses. Am I licensed in this state? Uh, well, no…not exactly. But if you add all the letters together from the states in which I am actually a licensed provider of mental health services, and multiply by the length of a Kabbalah bracelet, and divide by the number of weeks my last book was on the best-seller list, you get a valid California license number, see?” I’d then breeze on up to the fifth floor and stride confidently into Liza/Lindsey/Chandler Bing’s room, and block the doorway, arms akimbo.

“And just where do you think you’re going, Little Ms/Mr. Drunky-pants? I’ve got something to say to you. Get real. Failure is no gravy train. Every day you need to look in the mirror and say ‘I need to be on the Dr. Ding show. And I’m making a good decision here because the outer reflection of my inner gravy train is what makes people treat me like I am wanting to be treated, only with less gravy.’ Let’s get real right now!”

I would then lead my bewildered and alarmed new friend over to the mirror where I would harangue them by droning “I’m doing this because I care, and I care about you, and I’d like it if you cared about you. Only with more gravy,” until they started to relax and stopped trying to press the emergency call button.

Then, despite Liza/Lindsey/Chandler Guy suddenly shoving me aside and sprinting down 5 flights of stairs and out to their car, I’d jog along behind, offering them one last chance to talk on national television about the gravy trainwreck that was just now cured qua my timely psychomological intervention. As they sped off, I’d be calling my media contacts and announcing that I spent over an hour in deep discussion with L/L/C, but that despite my superior clinical abilities and excellent footspeed I was unable to convince them to appear on my show. Which of course proves how very psychologically unbalanced they are.

Reality check: Dr. Ding wouldn’t be able to get past the front desk, even if I was wearing my customary and proper clinical attire of sequined evening gown, sunglasses, and curlers.

I cannot imagine what Dr. Phil was thinking. He must not have read his APA Ethical Principles of Psychologists and Code of Conduct.

Principle A: First do no harm.

Dr. Ding’s Corollary: Showing up unannounced and uninvited is just so wrong, and a clear violation of Ms Spear’s rights as a patient. Shame on that hospital for letting him in. Unless it’s a pretty goddamn clear-cut emergency, psychologists don’t treat or assess anyone unless a) there is informed consent, and b) the individual in question your own fucking patient in the first place! I mean, duh.

Principle #5.06: APA is crystal-clear on this next part, regarding In-Person Solicitation. “Psychologists do not engage, directly or through agents, in uninvited in-person solicitation of business from actual or potential therapy clients/patients or other persons who because of their particular circumstances are vulnerable to undue influence. However, this prohibition does not preclude (1) attempting to implement appropriate collateral contacts for the purpose of benefiting an already engaged therapy client/patient or (2) providing disaster or community outreach services.”

Dr. Ding’s Corollary: Dr. Phil is a publicity-hungry douchebag who would whore out his own grandmother’s psychological vulnerabilities in a heartbeat, so long as the price was right.

Yeah, that’s right. I said douchebag. I mean, let’s get real here.