On Training

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NaBloPoMo 2016, Letters to Patients, Day 1

To The Patients Who Trained Me:

Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, and God bless you, every one.

To the elderly lady with heart failure, who donated your body to science so that I may learn anatomy:  You were the greatest gift.  Your heart was literally as big as your head, and at the time I just thought it was peculiar.  Now I understand the extraordinary adaptive capability of the human body, and I marvel at it every day.

To the inpatients who endured hours of repetitive interviewing and clumsy physical exams by us medical students, all in the name of teaching:  Your engagement in the midst of your own suffering testifies to the infinite potential generosity of humanity.  Your contribution to medical education cannot be overestimated.

To the kindhearted artist in my resident clinic, the first patient to page me for advice:  You showed me that I knew what I was doing, even in training.  You had classic of sinusitis, and I called in the appropriate prescription.  In a moment of sudden panic I wondered if I should have called my preceptor first.  No, I can do this, I realized.  I’m meant to do this.

To the articulate, confident housewife whose retired husband drove you to me in acute agitation:  I learned from you that life phases never cease to evolve.  Our relationships, however longstanding, hold infinite complexities that manifest in jarring and also predictable ways throughout life.  You taught me that stability is overrated, and also underappreciated.

To the wonderfully kind man, one of my first patients in practice, who came in with the nasal balloon:  Your patience and trust will humble me forever.  The emergency room doctor had placed the balloon for a prolonged nosebleed.  He instructed you have me take it out.  I had never seen such a device before, much less deflated and removed one.  You let me examine it, think it through, and finally just cut the tubing with scissors.  We bonded over that and you continued to teach me about collaboration and sharing between patient and physician all the while I knew you.

To all whom I encountered in those early years:  There are too many of you to name, too many to acknowledge fully.  But every one of you helped make me the physician I am today.  With each new meeting now, each applied principle and physical exam technique, I thank you and honor you, my esteemed teachers.

NaBloPoMo, Here We Come!

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The Cubs have won game 5 of the World Series.  Halloween is tomorrow.  In two days I will commit to publishing a post a day for 30 days.  Woo hoooooooo, bring it!!  It’s been a year since I tried this the first time, and I almost made it—26, I believe, and a few may have been reblogs of others’ work…  I felt embarrassed about the ‘failure.’  But then I got through the A to Z Challenge by the skin of my teeth this past April (last post at 11:30pm on April 30th), and that was much more fun.  So I’m trying again, yaaay!

I launched this blog 18 months ago to address physician-patient relationship.  I aimed to discuss communication, self-awareness, and emotional intelligence, as tools to rekindle that trusting, continuous bond that so many of us miss in medicine today.  Since then I have come around to the original theme occasionally, but not nearly as often as I had intended.  So I take this annual blogging event as an opportunity to refocus and try something new.

For Na Bo Po Mo 2016, I intend to write 30 letters to patients.  Some will echo routine conversations; others may reflect my musings on this vocation.  I may examine observations on the state of medicine today.  Or other things, who knows?  I will at least attempt to convey my deep love for the work and the people.  Maybe I can help fellow physicians and patients connect, or perhaps lend some perspective and awareness.

There is a lightness to trial and error.  When you try something new, you make a commitment, set an endpoint, and decide how you will measure the outcome.  But you don’t have to attach yourself to a particular outcome, just the process.  I commit to try my best and have fun, and see what comes out, in fewer than 500 words per post.  I wonder where this will lead?  Maybe it will turn into a monthly newsletter for my own patients?  A book?  A column somewhere?  Anything is possible!  I’ll never know until I try, and I like the openness of the adventure.

I hope you will visit often, and leave your thoughtful comments.

Let the journey begin!

 

In Praise of the Words of Others

Today I give thanks for my amazing WordPress friends.  Every day my Reader fills up with inspiration, education, curiosity, and connection.

So today, I will share some of these treasures!

I already reblogged Donna Cameron’s post on when it is nobler to sacrifice honesty for kindness, but here it is again.

Maria Holm has written a heartfelt letter to an impetuous young woman on the real search for true love.

Rachel Griffin, an artistic force of nature, writes powerfully once again to give voice to people with mental illness, and remove once and for all the stigma and shame around them.  You go, Rachel!

Emily Heath wrote a powerful post, the first I had read about Starbucks’ red cups.  It’s still the best one I’ve read yet, and was picked up by Huff Post.

Benjamin Studebaker, a gifted political scientist, gives us the perfect reframe of feminism, so we can all move forward using the word as a synonym for gender equality.

Finally, Melissa recently wrote a moving piece on the tenacity of nature, despite the destruction of humans.

I hope you enjoy these articles and authors as much as I do.  It’s a privilege and a joy to count myself among such inspired and inspiring people.  Thank you, all!