What I Wish For Us

What a privilege to do what I do. Every day I get to meet new people, learn new things, apply my own well-developed knowledge and expertise in fun and interesting new ways. My skills are continually sharpened by each novel interaction, and both confidence and humility are strengthened as well.

Before each full day physical, I ask patients about their highest goals for the day. Their answers can usually be paraphrased thusly:

“I’m looking for a comprehensive assessment of my current state of health, including risks. Let’s identify where habits are healthy, so I can protect/strengthen them. Then discover areas of vulnerability and potential improvement, and co-create a relevant, actionable plan to optimize patterns in the five reciprocal domains of health (Sleep, Exercise, Nutrition, Stress management, and Relationships).”

People get excited (maybe that’s too strong–intrigued, perhaps) to understand the complex interrelationships among patterns and fluctuations within and between the domains, both conscious and unconscious, including extrinsic/environmental/circumstancial factors and their insidious influences. They often start the encounter focused on the biometrics: cholesterol, body fat, etc. And if I do my job well, they leave also attending to the salient behaviors and all of their adjuvant drivers. My reward is when someone leaves the day feeling they were seen and known as a whole person, in their current context. Even better if I can also help them see and know themselves this way more easily.

I recently read Kate Murphy’s You’re Not Listening, which helps me do my job that much better. I was gratified to see that I was familiar and facile with many of the concepts and skills she discusses in the book. It’s not just about making eye contact, repeating people’s words back to them, and voicing sounds that may indicate listening, like ‘uh-huh,’, ‘right.’ It’s about being truly present, listening as a way of being before doing, putting aside our own prejudices, assumptions, judgments, and expectations as much as possible, attuning to the person in front of us–true listening is a practice in deep presence. Easier said than done! And always worth the effort for deeper connection. This connection makes the medical encounter a profound win-win.

Don’t all people deserve this kind of physician-patient relationship? Isn’t the primary care doctor’s job to inform, educate, explore, and conference with people, to help them enact their own health intentions ever more easily and confidently? As your doctor, I wish to help you recruit all the support you need for healthy decision making, to moderate overt and heavy effort–make the healthy path the path of least resistance. It takes a village! Humanities researchers have known for generations now that our behaviors and decisions are heavily dependent on our circumstances, environmental cues, and real time mental state (the more fatigued and stressed [and who is not severely fatigued and stressed right now??], the exponentially harder it is to resist the most immediately gratifying, comforting, and self-soothing behaviors). So it all just makes me wonder, at times with severe agitation: Why do we, as a society, make it so hard for us all to live healthily? Why do we make healthy food, childcare, and mental healthcare so inaccessible and expensive? Why do we make people work 3/5 of their waking hours at jobs that confine them to chairs and screens? Why do we shame and punish people for taking time for medical appointments and care? Why do we blame individuals, telling them both explicitly and implicitly how they are not aware enough, not doing enough, not good enough, when everybody is just doing their best in chaotic, inefficient, and inhumane systems of everything? ACK.

My corporate executive patient population is microscopic compared to the general population, and privileged to the extreme. Current state in American healthcare means that only the uber wealthy, highest status workers can access the care that I so luxuriously provide. I say every day how I have the sweetest gig in all of primary care. I understand and appreciate this deeply, and wonder honestly about its sustainability.

I wish for my patients to leave every annual physical feeling empowered to exercise your agency where the energy will be most efficient and effective, so that by one year from now you can come back and report how much healthier you feel, and why, owning your own actions and appreciating the help you got along the way. And if you’re not feeling healthier, we can talk it through, trouble shoot, and make a new plan. To this end, we doctors need the time, space, and resources to really know you, our patients, to understand the barriers to and facilitators of your best health habits and how it all intersects and evolves over time. Time is really the key here–there is no substitute for the time it takes to be fully present and to listen to the stories–to hear what is said and not said, attune to the subtle nonverbal cues, process it all and consider the best next open, honest, loving question. And then to hold temporal and personal space for thoughtful engagement. How and what we clinicians ask, and the energy we bring to each query, influence deeply (if not straight up determine) the answers we get, and thus the accuracy of our understanding, and the effectiveness and impact of our whole plan of care. Maybe I understood this early on, and that’s why I used to run 45 minutes late in a regular primary care clinic.

So how can we rebalance? As medical knowledge expands exponentially in volume and complexity, and our systems widen and dehumanize the distance between patients and their doctors (even more than when I wrote my ‘About’ page on this blog 8 years ago), how can we restore the close, personal, and healing energetic exhcange between us all?

I have no answers! Alas, our deeply broken and counterproductive healthcare system may be the quintessential complex-adaptive challenge. It requires leaders who can hold tension without anxiety, paradox and polarity without animosity, and patience and courage for experimental, iterative change.

Meanwhile, we workers and consumers of the system must find ways to connect and hold ourselves up, to get through the morass together. What I wish is that we all give ourselves and one another, including the folks who ‘run’ our broken systems, a little grace. I truly believe we are all doing our best. AND we can do better. Maybe it starts by simply listening a little better.

Relationship Revolution

 

“In my lifetime I want to see the culture of medicine driven more by relationship than by revenue.”

–me

 

Nice to be back, friends!

This post is a bit different from my usual format and style.  It’s maybe more raw and blunt.

Please bear with me and keep an open mind?

I know posting this may be risky.  It started out as just jotting down ideas for a longer, more detailed future post.  I had to get the ideas and thoughts out so I could focus on work.  And then the ‘jotting’ somehow evolved into what I imagine a poetry slam might look like.  So I decided to post as is.

My long term objective is to stimulate generous thought and respectful discussion between patients and physicians.  I wish to prod us out of our default complaint modes and reorient all of us to the idea that we are all on the same team, but our connections are under siege by outside forces.  The system harms and oppresses us, physicians and patients, the end users, and the ones with the real power.  Together, we are the sleeping (sedated?) giant that must rise up and reclaim the system for ourselves.  This post is an attempt to spark the flame that draws us together, by pointing directly to the spikes that drive us apart.

Disclaimer: What follows is my own expression and does not represent or reflect the opinion or position of any colleague, institution, or professional society with whom I associate or to which I belong.

ice castle spider legs

I hear my colleagues say: Get rid of the patient portal!

It’s too much!

Limiting characters does not work, they just send multiple messages

Charging for messages just makes more work

“They abuse the system”

“We give an inch, they take a mile”

Keep them away!

Us vs. Them mentality.

Antithetical to mission of medicine: To meet patients where they need us, and help them.

WHY?

Because we are too busy.

DOING WHAT?

Every. F*ing. Thing.

Rx prior authorizations

Endless documentation, infinite clicks

Rx refills with no information on follow up or patient status

Filling slots to meet RVU goals

Prescribing more meds to meet “quality” goals

Keeping up with the latest evidence for every disease, test, treatment, guideline, diet fad

Rushing to the next patient so that the patient we’re with does not have time to even think of their questions, must less ask them

Patients walk away from visits with their true needs unmet.

So they use the resources available to them to ask for what they need.

And this ‘adds’ to our work

And we feel busier and more frustrated, exhausted, frayed, irritable

We feel Overwhelmed.

 

Patients also feel it

They feel unseen, unheard, dismissed, discarded

And they don’t understand or relate to where it comes from

They get angry

So they send more messages: to us, about us; criticizing us, lashing out

Making us feel bad about ourselves

Which manifests as defensiveness first, then even more frustration, exhaustion, irritability

But we don’t disengage.

We remember our calling.

We forge on in smoldering resentment, pride, bitterness, duty, guilt, shame, and occasional fulfillment

 

And then abstractions to reconcile the cognitive dissonance

 

Patients suck

All they do is take take take

They don’t understand that I’m Doing My Best to help them

Why don’t they appreciate me

They are so entitled these days

They want everything now now now

They think I’m at their beck and call

Like I’m not working every minute of every day

Like I don’t have a family and a life also

Like I live only to serve them

Patients are the enemy

Really?

 

Oh and it happens on both sides

 

Doctors suck

All they do is type away at that blasted computer

They don’t even look up, see me, or hear me

They don’t understand what I need

They just want to see more patients

Make more money

I’m just a number to them

A cog on a conveyor belt

They’re all in the pockets of Big Pharma and Insurance

They withhold the help I need

They hoard it

They don’t care about me

They Don’t Care About Patients

All they care about is making the next buck

Doctors are the enemy

Really?

ice castle doorway

There is no substitute for the Time and Energy

Required to cultivate Healthy, mutually Respectful, mutually Fulfilling, mutually Beneficial relationships

It is always a two-way street

Our relationships kill us or save us.  Always.

snake river keystone

Doctors and patients must find ways to reconnect

Find one another through the thick morass

And Hold Tight

In Solidarity

Learn, Train and Practice Together

Our Communication, Empathy, Compassion, and Collaboration skills

Defend against the forces that drive us apart

Advocate for one another and for our Sacred Contract

So we may once again

Heal Through Connection

 

Brain-Fried Noodle

Redwood Park

It’s post-op day 8, woo hoooo!  To all my patients who have had surgery, now I know what it’s like—a little bit.  What a fascinating experience, and I’m so grateful now that I can relate!

Some of you may know that I tore my ACL in November playing volleyball.  It only took me a few weeks to decide I wanted to have it repaired (reconstructed, actually), because I don’t ever want to wonder whether my knee is stable enough to do the things I want to do.  I have now officially embarked upon that journey of rehab, and so far so good. This post is my story so far.  Just wanted to share.

Pre-Op Eval

The 10 days prior to surgery were some of the busiest in recent memory, starting with a whirlwind weekend with the kids in San Francisco ending with us on a redeye back to Chicago and cabbing it straight to the office where I borrowed my colleague’s clothes for the day.  Then back to back meetings, clinic days full of patients, a team-building seminar, a Grand Rounds presentation, Chinese New Year, a teaching session with my awesome medical students, a movie play date, a confirmation retreat, and laundry.  I barely got enough sleep, and the eating was not great.  But at least I wasn’t sick/infected.

I got all kinds of useful advice from friends and colleagues:

Use the meds!  Opioids are great for post-op pain. Expect maximum pain and swelling at 48-72 hours.  Well the block lasted at least 48 hours so no pain then.  And since then it’s actually not that bad—like a giant toothache at the knee, with radiating soreness up the thigh and down the leg.  Tylenol alternating with Advil pretty much takes care of it.

ICE ICE ICE!! Oh, how I love my electric ice machine.  It’s a pad that wraps around my knee and circulates ice water drawn through tubing from a cooler.  Brilliant!

Take time off, at least 2 weeks!  Like a silly person, I’m going back to work tomorrow.  I was even sillier initially to think I could have surgery on a Thursday and go back to work Monday!  Lesson learned, but hopefully I will never need to apply this learning?

The Jitters

The night before surgery, I wrote in my journal an “In case I die” entry.  I told my sister where I left the book, so she would know where to look for the message to my kids in case something bad happened.  It’s a little embarrassing to admit, but I imagine I’m not the only mom who has ever felt this way.  It was pretty irrational, but hey, it was my first major surgery—anything could happen!  Sitting in the cart in pre-op, I got tearful (and still do now), thinking of how much I’d miss the kids, what they would have to go through, how everything would change, if I died.  But when the anesthesiologist asked, all I could articulate was, “I keep thinking about all the things I should have done for them this morning—packed their lunches…”  He had the perfect words: “It’s never enough.”  And with that I felt strangely reassured and absolved.

The MEDS!!

So here’s the most dissociating part of the experience.  In pre-op I was handed a little cup with five pills: two 500mg acetaminophen, one 75mg diclofenac, and two 300mg gabapentin.  That’s standard pre-emptive pain management, apparently.  Then for the femoral and sciatic nerve blocks, the anesthesiologists used bupivicaine and triamcinalone.  Once in the OR, they started clindamycin to prevent infection, and then midazolam, fentanyl, and propofol for the sleeping cocktail.  Of these nine medications, I had taken exactly three of them ever before.  It was a little alarming, even though I knew the indication and rationale for each drug.  I found my inner voices exclaiming at once, “Wow, this is totally routine, we have really got it all figured out,” and “HOLY SHIT ARE YOU KIDDING ME NINE MEDICATIONS SIX OF WHICH I HAVE NEVER HAD BEFORE AND YOU’RE JUST GIVING THEM ALL TO ME LIKE IT’S NO BIG DEAL I COULD TOTALLY DIE FROM THIS WHY ISN’T ANYBODY THE LEAST BIT BOTHERED!?!?”  And I did just fine, like everybody expected.  Fascinating.

new tongue out emoji

Source: http://www.iemoji.com/view/emoji/2488/smileys-people/crazy-face

And whoa, the meds…  Apparently it’s a known side effect of propofol to shiver when waking up from it.  That was uncomfortable, but even more so was the inability to pee for about 40 minutes, despite having a bladder that felt like it could burst at any minute (I know that could not happen, but literally, you could have bounced a coin off of my lower abdomen it was so full).  Thank God for the experienced nurse who offered me hot tea—what a relief!  And finally the nerve blocks—amazing.  I could flex my hip normally, so I lifted my braced left leg into the car while standing on the right; but lower than that I had neither sensation nor motor control for a full 24 hours.  It.  Was.  Dead.  The foot/ankle came back first, with that creepy, stinging, tingly sensation.  Then slowly, begrudgingly, the thigh returned.  The muscle twitches throughout came mostly at night, as if waking from anesthesia is, of course, a nocturnal activity.

I felt pretty clear-headed after about an hour in recovery, fully coherent and articulate.  But man, I could not really focus or hold attention for long at all.  I had all kinds of articles saved to read those first two days lying in the recliner, but it was just not happening.  My mood was great and I had long periods of alertness.  And then I just wanted to sleep–deeply.  My body was not only unresponsive in the left lower extremity; it felt limp and weak kind of everywhere, my mind included.  Hence the title: Brain-Fried Noodle.

The Pain

Those first two days were fantastic in terms of pain—none whatsoever (thank you, bupivicaine)!  And I was on the ice machine 24/7.  Since then two pain patterns have emerged.  First, the deep ache from having the joint capsule invaded and a tunnel drilled through bone.  That’s the giant toothache, almost like a deep itch that wants to get scratched from the inside.  The second is a hypersensitivity of the skin where all the bruising is.  It’s swollen, tender, and oh-so colorful!  And it zings every time I pull on my compression sock, from the ankle to halfway up the thigh.  That’s what makes me stop and breathe deeply for several seconds.  I figured out today that I’m probably not drinking enough water, which likely contributes to my pain.  It’s so ironic, as my primary advice to patients for almost any ailment is to hydrate first.  Well, this is me trying to walk the talk.  I’m so happy not to have needed opioids (so far), and everything should continue to improve as the tissues heal.  HYDRATE!

IMG_2332

The Rehab

I swear, I think I have lost 50% of my quad on the left.  My physical therapist thinks I’m progressing well, and I’m happy with where I am.  This will be a long road and I must monitor my expectations.  First, prevent further atrophy while tissues recover initially.  Then weight bearing, stability.  Then strength, coordination, and eventually back to sport.  Patience, diligence, persistence.  I’m told PT should make me cry, it’s so painful.  Well, it’s definitely making me sweat!

The LOVE

*sigh*  We really can’t do anything well alone in life, huh?  All the advice, all the well wishes, all the texts and messages right before and right after surgery—every single one held me up a little higher.  And my mom, who insisted on coming despite my denying the need—now I get it.   And thank God for her.  Thank you, Ma!  Last week would have been quite hellish for us all if not for you!  The hubs and kids have been pretty great, too, accommodating my crutches, ice machine, and constant occupation of the chaise side of the sofa.  Every day they come home and ask how I am and how they can help.  I’ve tried to do what I can—sort laundry, rinse/cut vegetables, instruct our amazing sitter on recipes, pay bills, make sure our DVD machine doesn’t die from under-use…  But there is no substitute for a wide and strong support network, and mine is as dense as they get.  Thank you, all my friends and family, for all of it.

* * *

Huh…  I thought I could accomplish so much more in 8 days off!  I fantasized about all kinds of blog posts, reading, correspondence, de-cluttering.  Hey, I said fantasy, didn’t I?  Oh well, time flies like an arrow, fruit flies like a banana.  Things don’t usually turn out the way you plan.  Maybe it will be good to slow down for a while, reorganize, reprioritize, focus… For now I gotta get that second set of exercises in tonight and get to bed on time—and hydrate—work tomorrow!

Onward, friends, hope you are all well!