THE DOCTOR AS THE PATIENT- TO BE OR NOT BE PATIENT!

 THE DOCTOR AS THE PATIENT- TO BE OR NOT BE PATIENT!

(A true account of what goes on in the mind of a doctor when the doctor becomes the patient and what actually happens))

This is the story of what happens when tables turn and the doctor becomes the patient!

Returning from a quiet dinner all alone, which I thoroughly enjoyed, (the loneliness, I mean), I was silently listening to the melodious voice of the Nightingale of India, walking on the darkened road in the campus where I worked. 

Life seemed bliss.

Till a small bunch of pebbles decided to turn me and my life upside down. In cahoots with my brand-new platform sandals, the pebbles brought me down in one swift motion, twisting my right ankle, throwing my hands in the air making me land full weight on my delicate (read-old) right knee. A loud crackling sound and a pain that sheared through my body like thousand volts, I collapsed on the rough ground, screaming in agony, calling for help and trying to find out by a quick clinical examination if I had broken my knee (the doctor in me) all at the same time. 

After a few excruciating moments, and clinical confirmation that the knee cap had indeed been broken into pieces, I allowed myself to be lifted onto a passing vehicle and be taken to the casualty where I declared ( through tears and grimaces) to the Orthopedic surgeon that I had a fracture patella, (knee-cap) and it needs to be fixed, much to the consternation of the specialist, but like all good husbands ( indeed I have married an Orthopedic surgeon, decades ago), he kept a calm demeanour and continued to order the management protocols.

Am I going to sit in the wheel chair? Hell, no! (Mind talk)

I thought angrily as my post-graduate students gently lifted me on to the wheel chair and pushed it to the waiting casualty bed.

No way I am going to lie on the bed meant for accident patients whom I see in emergencies and treat! (Mind talk)

I was lifted by a couple of orderlies and put on the metal bed with a hard mattress and a stone hard pillow, unaware of the bile rising in my mouth of anger, frustration and above all, helplessness. Isn’t it here that I stand and pass orders, follow protocols, scold the students for not doing their job correctly and walk away to another waiting bed? Isn’t it here that the staff on duty run behind me following my orders for quick management of emergencies? Isn’t it here that eager learners catch every word, rather every pearl of wisdom I drop while treating a patient? I looked around through tears of pain and anger only to see that world went around silently, doing their job, shouting orders, managing serious patients, attending emergency situations, and only occasionally stopping by my bed to record my pulse and blood pressure.

No way I will be lifted on to the stretcher to be taken to the radiology. No way this is happening to me. (Mind talk)

The stretcher ride was bumpy, steely hard and I shouted in pain as the technician gently changed the position of the knee to confirm my fears. The knee cap had indeed broken into multiple pieces.

Why are you asking me so many questions? I am in pain. Is this the time? You are not following the history -taking protocol (Mind talk)

The questions about my health, my fall and my medications started coming in succession as the junior doctor began the admission process. He is missing some points in the patient history, the teacher in me thought. Should  I correct him? A silent nod, a few answers, thank-you  Mam, and I was given the band on my wrist that said, patient for surgery!

I don’t think I should take spinal anaesthesia, just a jab of the general anaesthetic through my vein and life gets simpler. (Mind talk)

I sat silently in the position given by the chief anaesthetist and waited patiently for the needle to prick my back for the spinal anaesthesia. Thankfully the rest was a total blur and no more opinions flooded my mind till I was made to lie flat.

I will not go under the knife! As a surgeon, I always stand on the right side of the operation table and wield the scalpel.  I am sure there could be a way out of this. (Mind talk)

The Operation-table was warm, the over-head lights bright, and the gentle hushed voices of the surgeons, staff nurses and technicians was all I remember before finding myself a few hours later on the patient bed in a beautiful room with flowers and a television.

No, not that antibiotic and that pain killer. What is its microbial cover? Check the expiry date of the medicine, is the syringe just opened from its pack, has it been diluted correctly, is it going to be given slowly?????  (Mind talk)

I looked through hazy eyes as the nurse filled the antibiotic syringe and without a word, pumped the fluid into my vein, locked the tube, collected her things and walked out with a smile.

I will be fine! I know exactly how a body responds to trauma and heals.  (Mind talk)

It was when I took my first step on the walker, that I realised I was truly handicapped for that time. I needed support, I needed help and most importantly, I needed guidance from the experts to learn how to walk all over again. I needed to know when I will be back to normal again. Questions whose answers I did not know, even as a doctor myself.

I needed to surrender to the reality that I was a patient.

I needed to step out of my identity and assume the new one of being on the other side of the consulting table.

It was a difficult time but the challenge was to be a patient, patiently and wholeheartedly. It was the acceptance that however trained you are to save a life or cure a disease, there are aspects of the human body that you can never understand till you become a patient. There are experts in each fields who know the nitty gritty of that disease and must be listened to.

It is the basic tenet of healing, of the mind and the body, that one must surrender completely, walk out of the skin one is wearing and allow the healer to help one heal.

As a patient it is necessary to let go of the aura one develops as a doctor about knowledge of the body and one’s control over its functioning.

Doctors are cursed, they say! Now I know why.

Doctors make bad patients, they say! Now I know why.

But it’s never too late to learn and I learnt my lesson well.

I am well on my way to complete recovery now.

Dear Doctors, stay healthy!

But for those who may become patients, I wonder if you will learn your lesson the hard way or accept that it is in our interest to be ‘to be’ and not ‘not to be’ a good patient!

Here’s wishing everyone a great health.

 

Dr. Reina Khadilkar