And the second part was written tonight.
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November 15, 2010
Fresno and San Francisco, California
MSIII
I think a lot about “for better or for worse” these days. In medicine, you see a lot of “worse” and “worse”, and I see a lot of partners who are there for both. For anything. Siblings, children, grandchildren, nieces, nephews, friends. I guess these would be the ‘chicken soup’ or whatever stories (are they even still publishing those?) But it’s true – rushing around, where so many things are difficult and sad – it’s something to stop and think about. Or try to remember to stop and think about. With the sickest patients, it’s their loved ones that I know. The ICU patients, the altered mental status patients, dementia, kids…whatever. I’ve spoken with a lot of family members. In anesthesia, wheeling people into surgery, you leave Loved Ones at the corner. (They call it the ‘kissing corner.’ Really). And you see them into the waiting room, point it out, say go get coffee or whatever, we’ll be ____ hours, and don’t worry, we’ll take really good care of X. Your X. I’ve seen the wide eyes when we push through the doors again, X is barely waking up from surgery, likely has an oxygen mask over her face, and we’re rushing into the PACU. It doesn’t mean anything’s wrong. It’s normal, and it means the surgery’s over, and if people don’t look like they’re freaking out (The doctors), everything is probably fine. It’s a vulnerable position to see someone in. And in the OR, they’re alone.
There’s the couple who came in with the wife’s entire medical history typed out – each had their own version – with a list of questions. She suddenly went blind, no one has any idea why, no one has any idea if it’s part of something more progressive – probably. So they’re searching. And with each doctor, they get more frustrated at not having answers. But the other point, to me, is that it’s always both, it’s really about their health, and the patient is – almost – both. Making sure you do speak to both.
