www.ourhealthstory.com

A frustrated doctor learns the importance of truly focusing on her patients

My fist emotion was irritation. It was Friday afternoon, and I was within an hour of finishing my work for the week. As I was leaving, a nurse brought me one more patient message. The offending statement read: “Mrs Jones* called to say that she has had blurred vision ever since her echo test this morning.” I smirked. Suddenly echocardiograms were causing visual difficulties.

This week my patients had questioned everything. My hypertensive patient had stopped her diuretic on the advice of an Internet chat room. A woman who had attempted suicide was substituting St John’s wort for her medication. Now Mrs Jones was imagining problems.  I rolled my eyes.

My second emotion was worry. As I flipped through her chart, I tried to figure out why she would have blurred vision, but nothing in her file explained the new symptom. She’s probably just anxious, I rationalized. Still, she wasn’t one to call with odd complaints. I picked up the phone.

What I next felt can only be described as mirth. Before  I made the call, the nurse ran in: “Mrs Jones called. Her vision is fine. Turns out she picked up the wrong glasses when she left the office. The cardiology tech has been right. Her vision had been blurred. Now we knew why.

Finally, I left chagrin. I reflected on what Mrs Jones had taught me. I had first assumed she was wrong, that her anxiety had clouded her judgment. Instead, my medical training had clouded her judgment. Instead, my medical training had clouded mine. Now I feel grateful that Mrs Jones figured it out before I muddled up our relationship. Patients come to me for my help. They pay me to listen, diagnose, treat  and talk. That implies trust; I must remember that and trust them too.