Thursday, November 21, 2013

Men Will Believe What They See

While doing my rotation, I followed my attending to the door of a patient’s room in his small town clinic. Under his long white coat he wore dark jeans, polo shirt and wingtip boots; he looked like a local, like he belonged here. As he pushed the door open, his velvety voice quietly permeated the space, "And that's the sound of sunshine coming down..." The patient’s expression opened into a broad smile. The doctor’s convivial hello illuminated the room like a burst of light. I was surprised by his cheerful energy as we had been up the night before, delivering a baby.

When his patient spoke he sat quietly and listened, giving her a chance to tell her story, gently focusing her efforts. He treated the patient, finished his chart and walked out the door within the scheduled time. 

This is how nearly every visit of every day went; it wasn’t a façade simply for the benefit of the patient. Once out the door, no matter what had happened in the room we just left, a quiet song created a balloon of tranquility that enveloped us in an atmosphere of care. As its notes drifted away and he opened a door to the next unknown, it was as if he transcended whatever malady he had just treated only to begin the same cycle again. Before the end of the day he would pause during a chance encounter with his nurse and thank her for her meticulous work. 

On the weekend I invited his children to rock climb with me. He calmly and firmly supported his young children as they faced their fear of trusting their belayer and the rope. When they cried he climbed up to support their back and hold their feet so they could learn how to rappel securely. He whistled as he walked along the climbing area, stopping to chat with the other climbers in the area, exchanging fishing-hole secrets and coming back from his conversations to cheer on his wife who was taking her turn on the climb. 

The experience fundamentally changed my idea of professionalism. I no longer associate stark dress code and rigid rules with professionalism, but think of it as fluid and ever changing to meet the demands of each circumstance and individual. It’s like monitoring a heartbeat and responding as needed, moment by moment. Professionals dress according to the culture so as to reach those around more effectively; they conduct themselves in a way that is respected both in and out of the office; and they likewise give respect to all those who touch their lives. What gives professionalism its fire and buoyancy are the qualities of humility, compassion and joy. These are the essence of professionalism that gives depth and meaning to every task and interaction.

Professionalism well lived spreads like a contagion from its practitioner. As Thoreau said, "If you would convince a man that he does wrong, do right. But do not care to convince him. Men will believe what they see. Let them see." The doctor never told me what I should do. He never sat me down to lecture on professionalism. The subtle beauty of his influence changed my heart, and in this way I will continue through my days, quietly striving to live the life I have come to admire.

Friday, April 26, 2013


My final, final has been passed and my second year of medical school is over. It's a big event in my journey toward doctor-hood.

Never again will I be seated in a classroom for days on end watching endless powerpoint lectures while texting smart remarks to my friends beside me or projecting tiny spit wads at the more studious, unfortunates that sit within firing range of my seat.

Never again will I sit in "my seat" for fear ridden exams, in the dark, back, left corner furthest from the front of a 200 person auditorium as I can physically get. My tick marks tallying the number of questions I think I got wrong on the desk beside, remain there from this morning's final until some innocent erases them, erasing the anxiety that is stored with every hashmark that mocked my hard work.

Never again.

It's time to move further forward into a future I once scarcely dared to dream might be mine.

Thank you for your encouragement, your comments, your prayers, your cheers and your smiles. Thank you for your reminders that life still exists outside this alien world I have chosen to inhabit and that there are bigger things than what is looking me in the face that day and seemed insurmountable.  As I've said in the past, "it took a village to raise this Doctor," and I simply hope the patients I touch will feel a bit of the warmth and love you shared with me.