My husband Jack is physician but not a surgeon. We were talking about customer service and compassion in the health care setting. One of Jack's colleagues is working on a customer service program for the docs at Jack's hospital. Of course, some physicians are skeptical of consulting programs, as anyone should be. Some consulting methodologies are brilliant (see W. Edward Deming.) Some of aren't (too many to mention.)
Jack had a different perspective when I told him I was not a big fan of Dr. Tex's bedside manner. As you may recall, when I asked Dr. Tex how long I will need to wear the leg brace after the surgery (6 days? 6 weeks? 6 months?), he said, "You have to earn you way out of the brace." Dr. Tex seems like the type of guy who would answer "yes" if his wife were to ask if this dress makes her butt look big. (Likewise, he seems like the type of guy who might not marry a woman with a large butt.) He stopped short of calling me "darlin'" or "Hon," that annoying shortcut many men use when they don't bother to remember a woman's name. (Thank god he didn't call me the dreaded "Ma'am.")
I know I shouldn't make fun of or publicly tease my surgeon the week before my operation. It seems like bad karma or something. Egads. What am I thinking? I hope he doesn't read. Seriously, I need to stop.
I know I shouldn't make fun of or publicly tease my surgeon the week before my operation. It seems like bad karma or something. Egads. What am I thinking? I hope he doesn't read. Seriously, I need to stop.
Jack thought Dr. Tex's bedside manner wasn't bad. "He looked you in the eye when he talked, and he answered your questions. Even stayed a few minutes later and explained everything."
You have got to be fucking kidding me. The guy basically passed the minimum standards for human communication, and my DH* thinks this qualifies as a reasonable interaction with a patient. When I told Jack what I thought about my interaction with Dr. Tex, he suddenly thought his colleagues customer service program might be necessary where he works.
I think this is a more complex issues about doctors, especially specialists, and their very lopsided lifestyles and personalities. Their lives become all about the technicalities of medicine, which is where so many advances come in to make all of our lives better. I saw an advertisement for a hospital about knee surgery. It said knee surgery isn't lifesaving, but it is lifestyle saving, and it showed a man jogging on a beach. The Boy argued that knee surgery could be lifesaving: "What if you fell down the stairs and broke your neck and died?" I was thinking of crossing the street, falling and getting hit by a car. Or starving to death because you couldn't get to the grocery store.
Perhaps these docs sacrifice their personalities and people-skills for the sake of their craft so I can walk across the street and not get hit by a car. Maybe "sacrifice" is too strong of a word--it is more likely that their people-skills are underdeveloped. Or, perhaps they had mediocre people skills to start, so surgery is a great place to be instead of a small town general practitioner who is probably close to clergy in terms of being most trusted.
In defense of Dr. Tex, he is not dealing with life and death. I can walk, and reasonably well. He is going to fix my knee so I can ski, play tennis and dance. I don't have a tumor or a problem with my heart. While I have a mild fear of death from surgery, I know it is very unlikely that my children will end up orphans after this. Dr. Tex doesn't need a box of tissues in his office when discussing these types of procedures.
To balance out the blowhard-ness of the surgeon, they hired Claire. Claire was painfully easy to talk to, which can be a bad thing if you are a big old blabbermouth like me. I once was interviewed by Danny Westneat of the Seattle Times, and he was the same way. I was really tired when he called me several years ago, so tired it was like I was drunk. He has a soft, smooth, easy voice. He didn't ask direct questions like a regular reporter. Instead, he was chatting like we were old friends and he really, really wanted to know what I thought. There is nothing more intoxicating, and I was already half way there when he called. This guy would not have any problems picking up a chick at a bar. I have no idea what he would be like on a second conversation, but I'd be willing to engage after the first. I think my quote in the Seattle Times was something like "You've got to be kidding me." Jack and several other friends said "It sounds like something you'd say." Yeah.
Claire is like a girl friend version of Danny Westnest. I was yammering away, and I commented on the folks on my PT team. "I like them all and they are all super nice and none of this is meant as criticism or complaint. But... some of them cause more discomfort than others I've noticed, and I don't know why. They each seem to have a different style. Evan causes the least discomfort, which is fine with me. Jason and Jane cause me more discomfort, and they make me do things that I don't want to do. It turns out I can do them, but I am typically uncomfortable. What do you think?"
Claire smiled and paused. "Everyone on our PT is very well qualified and they do a great job. They should be pushing you out of your comfort zone, and you should be feeling pushed. You don't want to be sitting there doing thirty boring leg lifts (she rolled her eyes) when you could be doing harder work. On the other hand, it shouldn't be too hard that you are suffering."
That was made sense, but it also kind of sucked. I like Evan because he has a gentle approach. In fairness to Evan, he saw me for my first physical therapy appointment, three weeks after the accident and I had very limited movement since then. My quadricep wouldn't flex, my leg and knee were super stiff, and I was afraid.
Today when I saw Evan, I told him I met Claire for my pre-op appointment.
"I talked to her about it," Evan said.
Oh shit, I thought. There go my easy PT appointments. I was hoping I was wrong, but I wasn't. The formerly gentle massage was now firm. When I got to the leg press, the weights were set higher.
"Do you need more weight?" Evan asked.
I laughed. "No."
Damn, I thought. I should have kept my mouth shut.
I think this is a more complex issues about doctors, especially specialists, and their very lopsided lifestyles and personalities. Their lives become all about the technicalities of medicine, which is where so many advances come in to make all of our lives better. I saw an advertisement for a hospital about knee surgery. It said knee surgery isn't lifesaving, but it is lifestyle saving, and it showed a man jogging on a beach. The Boy argued that knee surgery could be lifesaving: "What if you fell down the stairs and broke your neck and died?" I was thinking of crossing the street, falling and getting hit by a car. Or starving to death because you couldn't get to the grocery store.
Perhaps these docs sacrifice their personalities and people-skills for the sake of their craft so I can walk across the street and not get hit by a car. Maybe "sacrifice" is too strong of a word--it is more likely that their people-skills are underdeveloped. Or, perhaps they had mediocre people skills to start, so surgery is a great place to be instead of a small town general practitioner who is probably close to clergy in terms of being most trusted.
In defense of Dr. Tex, he is not dealing with life and death. I can walk, and reasonably well. He is going to fix my knee so I can ski, play tennis and dance. I don't have a tumor or a problem with my heart. While I have a mild fear of death from surgery, I know it is very unlikely that my children will end up orphans after this. Dr. Tex doesn't need a box of tissues in his office when discussing these types of procedures.
To balance out the blowhard-ness of the surgeon, they hired Claire. Claire was painfully easy to talk to, which can be a bad thing if you are a big old blabbermouth like me. I once was interviewed by Danny Westneat of the Seattle Times, and he was the same way. I was really tired when he called me several years ago, so tired it was like I was drunk. He has a soft, smooth, easy voice. He didn't ask direct questions like a regular reporter. Instead, he was chatting like we were old friends and he really, really wanted to know what I thought. There is nothing more intoxicating, and I was already half way there when he called. This guy would not have any problems picking up a chick at a bar. I have no idea what he would be like on a second conversation, but I'd be willing to engage after the first. I think my quote in the Seattle Times was something like "You've got to be kidding me." Jack and several other friends said "It sounds like something you'd say." Yeah.
Claire is like a girl friend version of Danny Westnest. I was yammering away, and I commented on the folks on my PT team. "I like them all and they are all super nice and none of this is meant as criticism or complaint. But... some of them cause more discomfort than others I've noticed, and I don't know why. They each seem to have a different style. Evan causes the least discomfort, which is fine with me. Jason and Jane cause me more discomfort, and they make me do things that I don't want to do. It turns out I can do them, but I am typically uncomfortable. What do you think?"
Claire smiled and paused. "Everyone on our PT is very well qualified and they do a great job. They should be pushing you out of your comfort zone, and you should be feeling pushed. You don't want to be sitting there doing thirty boring leg lifts (she rolled her eyes) when you could be doing harder work. On the other hand, it shouldn't be too hard that you are suffering."
That was made sense, but it also kind of sucked. I like Evan because he has a gentle approach. In fairness to Evan, he saw me for my first physical therapy appointment, three weeks after the accident and I had very limited movement since then. My quadricep wouldn't flex, my leg and knee were super stiff, and I was afraid.
Today when I saw Evan, I told him I met Claire for my pre-op appointment.
"I talked to her about it," Evan said.
Oh shit, I thought. There go my easy PT appointments. I was hoping I was wrong, but I wasn't. The formerly gentle massage was now firm. When I got to the leg press, the weights were set higher.
"Do you need more weight?" Evan asked.
I laughed. "No."
Damn, I thought. I should have kept my mouth shut.
 |
| I shared this cartoon with my PT team. Jason is talking about getting his "tools" to work on my knee. From The New Yorker, Feb. 22, 2016. http://www.newyorker.com/cartoons |
* Dear Husband
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