Recently, when my extended family came for a visit, our conversations led me to realise that despite my being a doctor for more than 20 years, they have no idea what my daily life is like. This means my patients have no idea either.
This is our life:
We cancel root canals, change vacation schedules, oil changes, and skip our children’s soccer games when we know our patients need us.
We motor through clinic, surgery, and hospital rounds with a full bladder, an empty tummy, and a dry mouth because we consume no fluids for hours. We feel guilty when we take a moment to ourselves when patients are waiting.
We worry about you: We pray, “Please, Lord, let them heal well despite the fact that they are diabetic and still smoking a pack a day. . .”
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And when a specimen looks worrisome, we hope that it will all be fine. When a doctor picks a call, do not assume he or she is talking to his broker; he could be listening to an uncle trying to describe their aunt’s bad prognosis or to a spouse explaining why they cannot attend the birthday party that evening — because patients are waiting.
When your medical news is good, the doctor is grateful — sometimes more so. A pathology report that is benign, lab results that are now within normal limits, or an X-ray that shows improvement, make us your cheerleader.
We don’t act like it because we don’t want you to be freaked out by our level of concern. We are taught by our superiors and encouraged by our colleagues to act tough and we think that’s what you want, too. But now you know: Deep inside, we are marshmallows.
We are grateful when the day ends well. We long to tell you, dear patient, how much we care. We hope you know.
