Tuesday Oct 27, 2015
Surrounded by Ghosts: Wisdom Gained From Patients Past
My exam rooms are full of ghosts, and sometimes it is standing room only.
My patients can't see them, of course, but the ghosts often are here giving advice and warning. Sometimes, when there is a particularly large crowd, the conversations are deafening.
I have worked in the same small town in Alaska for 21 years, caring for a community through all stages of life. During my time here -- as well as medical school and residency -- I have lost many people, and I freely admit that they come back to haunt me. This is not a bad thing. They are people who I liked or loved, and they still have much to offer. The hard part is translating their wisdom to those still living.
Particularly loud are the lost teenagers I hear when I talk with young patients during sports exams about not getting into a car with anyone who has been drinking. I have at least 10 ghosts in the room, all talking at once, when I have these conversations.
"Dude, listen to the doc."
"He told me the same thing."
The hardest to bear are the ghosts of infants and children when I am talking to parents about vaccinations. They don't say anything, but I still see their eyes, throats and backs because I trained in the era before the Haemophilus influenzae type b vaccine. Too much of my time on pediatric rotations in medical school and residency was spent performing lumbar punctures and taking care of periorbital cellulitis and epiglottitis.
The exam rooms are full of ghosts, I tell you. There are none, however, who died from complications of vaccines.
The ghosts are with me when I have to tell someone that they have cancer. I have been doing this long enough that they segregate depending on the type of cancer. They are also with me when I talk about the importance of quitting smoking or screening for colon, breast or cervical cancer.
The ghosts are especially present when I talk about end-of life-issues and the importance of maintaining quality of life -- even at the expense of life-sustaining measures -- and they advise me as I help patients and their families through this process.
The ghosts of those who died from alcohol and drug abuse are fatalistic and sad when I tell my patients that they must stop or they will die within the year. They nod and whisper among themselves that I told them the same thing. Sometimes I think that perhaps this particular group of patients can actually see the ghosts, but rarely is it enough to make them change their own lives.
The longer you practice as a physician, the more ghosts you have to keep you company. It's OK. They are good people. They fill the exam rooms and stand by your shoulder when you look at labs or X-rays. Sometimes they are so loud it is hard to believe that the patients can't hear them, but their voices and their stories are a gift you can give to your patients.
I admit that being haunted does take getting used to, but I would never dream of forgetting any of them.
John Cullen, M.D., is a member of the AAFP Board of Directors.
Posted at 11:42AM Oct 27, 2015 by John Cullen, M.D.