Sunday, April 29, 2018

getting the whole story

 
 
A path through the woods at Kripalu.
 
This summer I'll be attending the third annual conference on Narrative Medicine at Kripalu Center for Yoga and Health. For the past two years, this is where I have found my inspiration as a physician and a writer.
 
All week long we will listen to leaders in the field describe the healing power of storytelling and how to practice it. Physicians from Harvard, Yale, Columbia and Stanford, published authors, health care providers, and holistic and native American healers will share their amazing stories with us.
 
So, why hasn’t narrative medicine taken off? Why aren’t physicians and patients everywhere engaged in storytelling as part of the therapeutic process?
 
“I’m not telling you it’s going to be easy.
I’m telling you it’s going to be worth it.”
~Art Williams~
 
To put it bluntly, if it doesn’t make money the CEOs and CFOs who head up competing hospital health systems aren’t interested. Administrators who drive health care systems forward are less concerned with, and less knowledgeable about, hands-on patient care than they are about productivity, profit, and power.
 
It’s no wonder patient satisfaction is at an all-time low, and physician burnout is at an all-time high.
 
“Burnout occurs when passionate, committed people
Become deeply disillusioned with a job or career from which
They previously derived much of their identity and meaning.
It comes as the things that inspire passion and enthusiasm
are stripped away and tedious or unpleasant
things crowd in.”
~mathewgates.co~
 
What would it take to reverse this trend?
 
Numbers.
 
Storytellers would have to prove that the practice of narrative medicine improves profits, shortens hospital stays, reduces the number of readmissions, or otherwise generates income and saves money. Forget patient satisfaction and physician empowerment.
 
“Stories are not material to be analyzed;
they are relationships to be entered.”
~AW Frank~
 
Or, maybe something like this will have to happen:
 
Let’s say the CEO of your hospital (let's call him Tom) experiences an episode of severe chest pain. He is impressed by the speed, efficiency and expertise with which he is evaluated in the ER, rushed to the cath. lab, stented, and admitted to the CCU. Two days later he is discharged.
 
He congratulates himself how well the system works. This is what drives him--efficiency, accuracy, and speed.
 
However, a couple of days following discharge, he experiences a syncopal episode during a board meeting. Again, he is rushed to the ER where his physical examination is unrevealing. His EKG is unchanged, and his chest X-ray and a stat CT of his brain are normal. He is admitted for observation. In the middle of the night, though, he suffers a cardiac arrest and dies.
 
~corticare.com~
 
 
Why? Because no one thought to ask him about heroin addiction…and he wasn’t about to bring it up. It wasn’t one of the bullets on the EMR for patients admitted with chest pain. Smoking? Yes. Exercise? Yes. Heroin? No.
 
If the possibility of heroin abuse crossed his cardiologist’s mind, he didn’t ask about it. Had he, however, asked about stress and how Tom coped with it, he might have uncovered the real story.
 
“Writing and humanities studies
produce better physicians…
because doctors learn to coax hidden
information from the patients’ complaints.”
~Rita Charon~
 
Maybe one of his investments bottomed out. Maybe he found out his wife was having an affair. It was all too much for him even though he managed to project a veneer of confidence, authority and success. His addiction was the hidden demon that ultimately took his life.
 
We may be skilled at zeroing in on the diagnosis and treating the patient. We know how to increase productivity and reduce costs. We pride ourselves on modern medical technology. But until we get the whole story, we can’t treat the whole person. Unless we know the whole truth, the patient won’t get well.
jan

 




Tuesday, April 24, 2018

the not-so-perfect day for a walk

 
 
 
 
Yesterday was a great day for a walk…as Winnie the Pooh would have put it, a perfect day to be quiet by a little stream and listen.
 
“Everybody should be quiet
by a little stream and listen.”
~Winnie the Pooh~
 
So, that’s what I did. My route took me back and forth across a lovely brook four times. The sky was clear blue, the sun was warm, and the air was still. The silence and solitude gave me time to think. It was a perfect day for me…but not for everyone.
 
In contrast to the comfort, peace, and gratitude I felt for my own good fortune…my thoughts were drawn to the news. Not just to the underlying current of poverty, violence, and sorrow that stalks mankind in general…but specifically to the young boy who suffocated in his car last week despite his pleas for help after calling 911…after texting his mother to say that, if he died there, he wanted her to know he loved her. My thoughts turned the eight-year old girl found dead after a brutal rape. And to their families’ shattered hearts.
 
I couldn’t help but think about the victims of the week’s senseless shootings. About the plight of animals who were neglected and abused. About the latest damage to the only environment we know. And, as a physician, about the people I know who are sick or dying.
 
“I am constantly amazed
by man’s inhumanity to man.”
~Primo Levi~
 
Arrrgh! It is all so insanely painful to contemplate. What are we to do?
 
A couple of hours after my walk, I went to my yoga/meditation class, and you know what? I felt better after it…stronger and calmer. It reminded me that as health care providers, we come to accept the fact that we can help some of our patients, but not all of them. We can save lives some of the time, but not all the time. We have to take the bad news with the good. We have no choice.
 
Nevertheless, because we have the skill and sensitivity to offer words and to perform acts of comfort, encouragement, and solace, we have the power to bring balance to the world. Without the good we do, without the gratitude we feel, without the kindness we offer, how would we survive?
 
Caring, giving, embracing hope…and perhaps even prayer…are necessary survival skills in a world that might otherwise go down in defeat. The good that we do, where we are, with what we have strengthens us for the journey.
 
“Do what you can,
with what you have,
where you are.”
~Theodore Roosevelt~
 
jan
 

 
 
 
 
 

Sunday, April 15, 2018

a fork along the healing path

 
 
 
There is a fork in the road along the healing path in narrative medicine. One pathway invites patients to tell the stories of their illnesses. The other beckons health care providers to share their experiences as healers. The journey for both patients and providers is similar. It embraces memory, invites reflection, provides perspective, and engages support.
 
The patient’s narrative recalls his symptoms. He lists the diagnostic tests that were performed, names the medications that were prescribed, and traces his journey back to health…or not. All of which has to do with his care. But equally important is the fact that he can tell you how the diagnosis affected him emotionally and psychologically. He may have despaired to learn he had cancer. His entire world may have spun out of orbit because of a stroke or disabling injury. How will he manage if he can’t work? How will he support his family? Who will pay the bills and mow the lawn? He dreads burdening his wife and children with his care. He wishes he could die…not a healing thought at all.
 
If, on the other hand, the news is good, let’s say the lump turns out to be benign or the doctors are able to slip the stent in before the infarction occurs…the patient’s story may end on a happy note. Besides relief and gratitude, there may be some spiritual introspection. A surge in compassion and empathy. New found joy and peace. An entirely different story.
 
“Piglet noticed that even though
he had a very small heart,
it could hold a rather large amount
of gratitude.”
~AA Milne~
 
When the health care provider sets out on his narrative path, it takes him to the bedside of patients he has cared for over the years. He recalls patients with interesting and unusual presentations, baffling symptoms, and resistant conditions. He re-experiences his triumphs and his defeats. He may finally admit to the uncertainty, oversights, and errors in judgement that have haunted him over the years. He can name the patients who recovered against all odds.
 
“If you want a happy ending,
that depends, of course,
on where you stop your story.”
~Orson Welles~
 
But, just as important, he may finally acknowledge how hard it was to sustain his marriage and to be present for his children. He may have missed his son’s winning soccer goal at the state championship because he was tied up in the operating room, or he may have forgotten his wife’s birthday because of some committee meeting or other. A huge part of his story takes place outside of the hospital and office.
 
Our stories take into account more than what happened to us, when it occurred, or how it ended. They embrace how we react to life’s vagaries, how we interpret and process them, how we survive them physically, emotionally, and mentally, and who we become because of them.
 
“Telling our story does not merely
document who we are.
It helps make us who we are.”
~Rita Charon~
jan