True story:
When the nursing home
called, my mother was already on her way to the emergency room. She’d been
experiencing a deep cough and increasing shortness of breath for two days. When
her oxygen levels fell to dangerously low levels, her doctor ordered her off to
the hospital.
I left as soon as I got
the call, hoping to get there ahead of her because you see, by this point
in her decline, my mother had lost the ability to speak. She didn’t suffer from
dementia. Rather, her inability to communicate was the cumulative result of
multiple small strokes. I knew she would be scared and confused, and ultimately
frustrated by her inability to express herself. As sick as she was, she would
be unable to give her medical history or answer questions. Nevertheless, I had no doubt she
would receive excellent care—the ER staff would start an IV, administer oxygen,
get a chest X-ray (and a scan if needed), draw her blood, and monitor her vital
signs. She would receive antibiotics, or medications for her heart, or anticoagulants depending on the test
results (pneumonia vs heart failure vs pulmonary embolism). If worse came to worse, she would be
intubated. The doctors and nurses would do everything they could for her
automatically and efficiently, without a second thought.
Without knowing a thing
about her.
“You treat a disease: you win, you
lose.
You treat a person: I guarantee you
win.”
~Patch
Adams~
When I got to the
emergency room, Mother was sucking down oxygen via IPPB. She was weak and pale,
but alert. The minute I pulled the curtain back and stepped to her bedside, she
relaxed. A faint smile of recognition and relief appeared. She closed her eyes
and squeezed my hand as if to say healing could now begin.
“A kind gesture can reach a wound
that only compassion can heal.”
~Steve
Maraboli~
I kept an eye on the
monitors that surrounded her bed while I sat with her and explained what was
happening and why. I requested an extra blanket for her. I answered the nurses’
questions. I ached to know the results of the tests the doctors had run, what her
diagnosis was, what was in store for her. Through it all, I kept a smile on my
face while all the worst-case scenarios played out in my imagination.
“Isn’t it fascinating
how long a few minutes can seem
when you are completely alone
with not a familiar face in sight?”
~Kirby
Larson~
Imagine the relief I
felt when the ER physician returned to check on her…when he drew the curtain aside and
I recognized a trusted colleague, a man I knew to be compassionate, gentle, and
wise. Like my mother did when she saw me, I relaxed as soon as I saw him. I
smiled with a deep sense of relief and gratitude. I could talk to this man and
I knew he would listen. He would treat my mother like his own, and me like a
sister. As if we were family. I felt as though healing had already begun.
*
This story is intended to
convey the healing power of the personal relationship between the physician and
the patient…the sense of relief a familiar face can bring when everything else
is foreign and frightening to the patient. It speaks to the importance of trust
and confidence in the healer’s character and expertise. It should remind us to regard
every patient with compassion, and to treat every patient with the same
respect, kindness, and care we would extend to our best friend, and to our own
family members because:
“I’ve learned that people will forget
what you said.
People will forget what you did,
but they will never forget
how you made them feel.”
~Maya
Angelou~
jan
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