Mak Linda MD PHD

Let me just tell you, living with someone with Asperger’s, I’m used to having conversations where the other person talks quietly, avoids eye contact and generally appears awkward and uncomfortable in new settings and/​or around new people.
I’m not sure if it is the uptight Asian thing or autism (calm down, everybody), but Dr. Mak didn’t impress me much with her bedside manner.
My husband had a referral to her to figure out an allergic reaction he’s been having. I read about her online, saw that she only had 1 star on other sites, and tried to tell him, «Go to Dr. Lindae! I want to go too! We can bring her flowers and yummy cookies with m&ms in them!»…but he was tired and didn’t care, so off we went.
When we got there, the waiting area smelled like we were inside a bottle of Listerine. You think this is good… Listerine smells sterile, but this was just weird.
Here’s what drives me crazy — I fill out the paperwork for him (not because I’m pushy and controlling, which I am, but rather, because he doesn’t want to deal with it.) and they asked the same questions three times in a matter of two pages.
Then, we get inside the room and the nurse asks us the same damn questions another two times. Then, further into the appointment, the Dr. asks us yet again. I wanted to tell them to either look at the damn papers or to give me my ten form-​filling-​out minutes back.
When Dr. Mak came in the room, she said, «Mr H., What do you need?», but she said it SO quietly, I wasn’t sure if I heard her and I was a foot away. We looked at her and she said it again. «What do you need?».
Well, damn, lady — I done filled out the paper fifteen times now — surely it says it somewhere in there.
To her credit (because if you look her up on Google, you’ll read other reviews where people say that she didn’t even exam them), she looked at the nifty flip book of rashes I made (aren’t you glad you’re reading this?) and asked my husband questions. She did touch him very briefly, after gloving up.
I haven’t gotten the bill yet, but she didn’t really tell us anything that we didn’t already know. She gave us a referral for expensive bloodwork, a prescription for steroids that won’t solve the problem, just cover it up, and told me to get a Hepa filter. (What’s funny is that my autocorrect just changed this to «Hepatitis filter», and now I’m all giggly.)
The office didn’t look extremely sterile. It was REALLY small and everything was labeled with stickers, a lot of which were peeling up. It was organized, but crowded/​cramped. It didn’t look open and clean. AND, YEP — that’s a Biohazard bucket of dirty needles on the floor by the garbage, in case you want to bring the kiddies with you.
Not impressed, but I’ll give her a chance if it means not having to live with Sir Rash-​a-​Lot for the rest of our married life. (If she comes at him with anything that carries the risk of blood contamination, we’re out… Hepatitis filter and all.)