A Tale of Two Doctors
Therapeutic use of self in action
When I was in college, I had the opportunity to shadow therapists at a local hospital. I mostly took notes and kept to the side as I tailed the therapist, a sweet, soft-spoken lady who visited various hospital rooms, speaking gently with her patients and their families.
One day, however, a couple incidents occured which were particularly interesting because of their proximity to each other…
The First Doctor
The therapist and I were in the room of a patient who had some issues with her leg.
After greeting the patient and her husband, she got to work: “How are you feeling today?” the therapist asked the lady lying in bed.
“Much better,” the patient replied. “In fact, I…”
At that moment, a surgeon swept in, white coat flapping, trailing two or three medical students behind him.
He completely ignored the therapist standing by the patient’s bedside, the patient’s husband who was sitting directly in front of him, and the insignificant college student parked in the corner (me) who shrank even further into said corner as he brushed past.
“Let me see your leg,” he demanded. And without waiting for an answer, the man began palpating the patient’s injured limb.
“Hmm,” he said. But before he could say more, his cell phone rang.
The doctor reached carelessly into his pocket, withdrew the cell phone and put it to his ear. “Hello?”
Without another word of explanation or excuse, the doctor swept back out the room, talking on his phone. The two or three medical students who had come in with him looked at each other and scurried after him. One popped his head back, mouthing, “I’m sorry.”
And then they were gone.
The Second Doctor
“Don’t worry about him,” the therapist assured me as we made our way to her next patient, after finishing up with the last one. “Dr. X_ is known for being like that. They aren’t all like him.”
As if to lend credence to her words, we walked into another doctor-medical student group in the next patient’s room. This doctor was small and thin, and had only one medical student tailing him. When we reached the patient’s room, he was chatting animatedly with her and her family.
“…And this is the tumor that I removed during the surgery, see?” he said, in a light brogue, while showing the patient and her parents a picture on his mobile device. “I can send you a copy if you want!” he added cheerily.
“That’s okay, Dr. Y_,” the patient’s mother said, after the family had all had a glance. “We’re just so grateful you got it out.”
“I’m so glad, so glad,” the man said. Was it just me, or was he actually bouncing up and down a little as he spoke?
At that moment, he spotted us.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” the therapist I was shadowing said as she backed out. “We can come back later.”
“Oh, no, no,” the doctor smiled, waving us in. “We’re just about done here, aren’t we, John?” (this, to the medical student). Then to us: “Come in! Come in — The more, the merrier.”
The patient and her family smiled a welcome at us too, so we stepped inside.
“Dr. Y_ is just wonderful,” the patient’s mother gushed. “He saved our daughter’s life!”
“Oh, that’s too much,” Dr. Y_ said, waving the compliment aside. “I just do my best. Your body does the healing afterwards.”
“Still, we are so grateful you were her surgeon,” the father said.
“And I am so glad she was my patient,” Dr. Y_ said. “She was a fantastic patient.”
Turning his 100-megawatt grin at the patient, he added: “I know you will be up and about in no time at all!”
The patient’s family wanted to shake the doctor’s hand before he left, but he surprised them by giving them all a hug.
“Hugs for everybody!” he said cheerfully, even giving my therapist and me a warm pat on the shoulder as he and the medical student left the room. “Go ahead and do your thing,” he said to the therapist, “this lady is fantastic!” he threw back at the family.
And then he was gone.
This is a true story. I do not know the real names of the two doctors (hence the X/Y thing), but I have never forgotten the effect they had on their patients, and on me.
In summary: Sometimes we only have one chance to make an impression on someone. Make it a good one!
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