Have you ever experienced a truly great medical doctor?
We had a running joke when I was an 18 year old X-ray student at County Hospital:
A group of the recently dearly departed are getting the heavenly tour from Saint Peter Himself. They visit The Holy Golf Course and The Holy Gift Shop and then stop by for lunch at The Holy Cafeteria. A priest in the group (who is naturally accustomed to certain privileges back on earth) takes his tray and blithely goes to the front of the line, where he is roundly booed by the cafeteria regulars. St. Peter gently corrects him with “I’m sorry, Father, but we’re all equal up here; you’ll have to get back in line with everybody else.” The priest bows his head and humbly begs forgiveness and gets back in line.
Then a Cardinal in his scarlet vestments marches to the front of the line and also gets roundly booed and is given the same message by St. Peter: We're all equal here, take your place in line. The cardinal bows his head and humbly takes his place.
The Pope! Himself! then appears in his white cassock and is similarly humbled into taking his place in line with everybody else.
[don’t you just love a good three-part joke?]
Then an older white-bearded man in a long white lab coat flapping behind him with a long stethoscope draped around his neck takes a tray and breezes to the front of the line and no one in the entire cafeteria blinks or says a word. The priest elbows St. Peter and whispers “Hey, how come that guy gets to cut in line?”
St. Peter cranes his neck and laughs and says, “Oh, that’s God. He thinks he’s a doctor.”
The doctors I’ve worked with in various hospitals or seen as a patient over the decades fall into two mental categories— the Medical Technicians who carry out the protocols of evidence-based medicine with alacrity but are essentially heartless (and it’s not always their fault; they’re trained to be that way) and the Real Doctors who not only excel at the mechanics of medicine but also maintain their compassion and above all try to respect everyone’s basic humanity.
The 1991 film The Doctor stars William Hurt as a stereotypically arrogant god-like physician until he himself undergoes cancer diagnosis and treatment and encounters the same cold and clinical detachment he has been showing his own patients, colleagues and family. He meets his female mirror in this scene, where he is so put off by her abrupt and impersonal manner that he doesn’t even offer up his terrifying history of hemorrhaging and spitting up blood as the real reason for this visit.
Warning: This scene of William Hurt getting this impersonal initial throat exam is uncomfortable to watch and not for the medically squeamish.
By the end of the movie Hurt has been transformed from a medical Technician into a Real Doctor. He subjects his medical students to a taste of the indignities and fears all hospitalized patients experience as a result of the tests and treatments these new young doctors will be ordering. But first, of course, as The Doctor he makes them wait:
“You are no longer doctors. You are hospital patients.”
@MedicalAxioms: This guy on twitter writes like a Real Doctor.
One of the best Real Doctors I ever met was the one who got Mom to quit her 60 year smoking habit during a routine office visit. He pulled up his chair so that their knees touched, took both of her hands in his, looked my 75 year old mother right in the eye as if she mattered to him and said “Mary Jane, I am so worried about you.” Her eyes widened, and he went on, “I am so concerned about your smoking. It’s never too late to change. What can I do to help you stop?” He then suggested that I could also help her through the quitting process with acupuncture and hypnotherapy (which I gladly did) and I was stunned by how his genuine heartfelt concern actually got the desired result where the lectures and statistics and dire warnings she already knew all about had failed. Afterwards she said that was the first doctor who actually cared about her and didn’t treat her like she was stupid.
She quit that week and never smoked again.
The doctor who did my hysterectomy was also a Real Doctor. I made all my appointments with him on my days off because he always ran late. But he always ran late because he took time to listen and explore alternatives and explain everything he knew in as much detail as every single patient wanted to hear. You always knew that when it was your appointment time he wouldn’t rush you, either. While he recomended hysterectomy early on he respected that I’m medically conservative and consider non-emergency surgery the last resort. He patiently worked with me through less invasive procedures and approaches until I was the one who finally threw in the towel and said Ah hell, take it out.
He was also an excellent surgeon and all the nurses at the hospital loved working with him, which is always a good sign.
John’s ENT who got him through his own HPV+ throat cancer ordeal was also a Real Doctor. When John went in for his biopsy results that doctor neither minced words nor forgot to offer hope. As soon as he joined John in the treatment room he bluntly announced, ”Well, it’s cancer. And I believe you will be cured.” Hardly anyone hears the C-word and the c-word in the same sentence. We believed him.
This doctor was both ruthlessly efficient and completely compassionate; a truly winning combination. The biopsy John had been seeking for months was swiftly accomplished during the initial office consultation. The surgical drain from John’s subsequent lymph node dissection was pulled out of his neck in that same exam room before his dad or I or even John himself could brace ourselves. (I’ve always been a proponent of ripping off the bandaid with one short shriek, myself.)
Over many office visits I also noted how this doctor subtley ended every encounter on a positive note or with a word of encouragement. At the lowest point of the entire process, when I felt terrified and helpless about John’s frighteningly rapid weight loss and deterioration, this doctor touched my shoulder as we were leaving the exam room and said quietly, “And you’re a really good coach.” Just one well-placed sentence showed that he knew it was hard for the caregiver as well.
Now I’m almost always working with someone who is in Hospice care or otherwise nearing their life’s end. When it’s my time to leave this world I hope to have a Real Doctor on my side who knows when it’s time to help and when it’s time to have and respect the outcome of the DNR talk. (DNR status means Do Not Resuscitate.)
What do you want to talk about today?
What: A Daily Kos meet up for DK members and interested parties
When: Saturday, May 19th, 2018 — Time: 12:00-? PM
Where: Highland Brewing, Asheville, NC
www.highlandbrewing.com
12 Old Charlotte Highway, Suite 200
Asheville, North Carolina 28803
828-299-3370
Directions via Google Maps
Why: Friends, tools and networking to win in November
Food: Food Trucks plus
Fun: Brewery Tour
RSVPS
1. randallt, organizer (kosmail him to connect)
2. Lamont Cranston
3. Joieau
4. Gordon20024
MAYBEES :
1. Otteray Scribe
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Netroots Nation 2018
Puerto Rico Kos !