White coats

Rhona Canoy

SO… Continuing my personal observations and insights into health care. For the most part, I only come in contact with doctors when I go for my irregular check-ups or when I think I’m sick. And because many of my doctors are friends or family, I take for granted that how they treat me is the norm. As my mother’s medical saga continues, I’ve come to observe doctors whom I don’t know, young residents training for specializations, medical interns who aren’t quite doctors, seasoned veterans in the field.

First let me say that our provincial city has no dearth of doctors. I’m amazed at the number and the kinds of specialists we can go to if needed. And since they are specialists, I know they have dedicated thousands of pesos and hours to gain the training and skills they now have under their belt. Even allowing for cases that are truly hopeless and beyond help, there have been little or no reports of doctors with high mortality rates.

When we entrust our lives into the care of MDs, we do so without doubt or reservation. We do so with the tacit belief that they have our well-being at heart. We do so with utmost faith that they will exhaust all their knowledge to preserve our time here on earth. And we do so with all the fear and trepidation that we may be in for a rough ride.

A generous reader commented on my previous column about nursing care that as a doctor, he/she often forgets that patients are human beings deserving of compassion and not just purveyors of disease [and income too! My words, please]. What a wonderful insight. We already know what the doctor’s role is but we often forget that as patients we have roles too.

It is our job to be concerned and aware of what is wrong with us (diagnosis), what the doctor recommends in terms of treatment, what are the possible outcomes (prognosis) which may affect our way of life. Filipino patients are not taught to ask questions of doctors. We are taught to accept whatever we are told without question, and to accept whatever final medical judgments are handed down. We are taught to have uber confidence in what we are told and as such rarely seek second opinions.

I remember a case where I was quite alarmed by the diagnosis I was given. Being the rebellious demon that I am, I wanted to accept my diagnosis through a process of consensus. How shocked was I when I told my physician at that time that I wanted to seek a second, and even a third, opinion and was told, “Well, it’s your right to do so, but in that case you might as well find another doctor.” I don’t want to call it arrogance, so I’m still looking for the right adjective for this attitude. Sadly, a**hole quickly comes to mind, but I’m still looking through (look, Cong, it’s not thru) the thesaurus.

Is it too much to ask our doctors to tell us what is going on, especially while in hospital? We already know that they have conferences with the nursing staff and the residents regarding the cases after making their rounds. Oftentimes, though, patients and patients’ families are left out of the loop. I don’t want to hear from my nurse what the doctor said. I want the doctor to tell me directly because I may have immediate questions I want answered. And please don’t baffle me with technical jargon. Layman’s terms with less syllables would be greatly appreciated.

There is nothing to fear with having family conferences, Docs! We aren’t going to jump you and lock you in a chokehold (at least, not my family). Don’t act like you’re God. We just want to be kept in the loop. When we ask questions, we aren’t questioning your ability. We really truly madly deeply want to know. That’s all it is. So please consider that our fate or that of our loved ones is in your hands, and we are fraught with fear and concern. We don’t think you’re infallible, but we do hope that you make only tiny mistakes. We already have the utmost awe and respect for your title.

I am reminded of this joke I heard years ago about a guy who died on the operating table. After finding himself at the pearly gates, St. Peter took him on a guided tour of heaven. Presumably he was a good guy. After a bit, the guy turned to Peter and said, “I thought that in heaven nobody got sick or felt pain.” Peter replied, “Yes, that’s true.” So the guy asked, “So who was that white-haired guy we just passed? The one in the white coat?” Peter shook his head slowly and said, “Oh, that’s just God. He thinks he’s a doctor.”

So, Doc, we don’t want you to be God. Just be a good, caring doctor.