Humanity

My first patient back as a medical student after 1.5 years away was a 60-year-old guy with a million things going on… congestive heart failure, coronary artery disease, COPD, diabetes. Wild grey hair. Long mustache. 300 lbs. Hunched over like the gentleman from Notre Dame. Immediately I remember what it is like to feel paternalistic toward someone. He still smokes. He needs to stop. I tell him this. I’m taking care of him. In a way, he is my charge.

He has a young daughter who seems a bit too mature for her age… just growing up too fast… life probably isn’t very easy. Her mom died a few years ago. Her dad is, quite honestly, in poor health. When I admitted him, she was right there, remembering all of his medications and the doses for each. She takes care of him.

One afternoon I wheeled into the room to ask a question and the curtain was drawn. Before I pulled the curtain back I heard sniffles. The daughter, crying. Mr. X was consoling her. “But I don’t want to go to Grandma’s….” (sniff, choke). “But it’s the best thing for you honey, and she’ll take good care of you…” Suddenly, my vulnerable, stubborn, and quite sick patient was being a father. The one with responsibility. The tender, yet firm voice of reason.

Later that day…

Mr. Y is a non-English speaking gentleman with cellulitis that formed a nasty, nasty abscess. He doesn’t speak great English, so each morning when I come to see him he just kind of nods and shakes his head. Periodically, we phone a translator to make sure all of the necessary information is portrayed, but quite often, we communicate in gestures. One day I go in to look at his wound. I’m clumsily trying to take off the dressing; in order to do it I have to reach over in a way that challenges my balance. He notices me struggle. He reaches down to pull it off himself and starts to assist me. He is pulling off his own bandage so that I can look at his large, open, draining wound. He sensed that I, ironically, needed his help… in order to better provide care. An unexpected role reversal, once again.

What is amazing about practicing medicine is the sense of humanity. The deep, intimate, instantaneous opportunities we have to experience how people respond, how they find resilience, how they exhibit kindness.