Saturday, October 25, 2008

An Honest Look

Last week, I was talking to a nurse practitioner who runs a local health clinic. It was my job to take the concerns and critiques from those who frequented this health center and present them to her. From there, I was to come up with various angles on advocating within this system.

Jenny, the nurse practitioner, is a beautiful, kind and dedicated caregiver. She has been working at the same place for roughly twenty years. Her passion for her work and her desire to make the clinic as effective and patient-centered as possible is crystal clear.

After collecting my surveys from the patients, I went in for my meeting with Jenny armed with three pages of issues to discuss. This clinic has a stellar reputation and many of the surveys cited no complaints and that the staff should be "given a medal for sainthood." Many of the issues were simple misunderstandings and Jenny and I moved through them quickly, feeling gratified that we could clarify things for the patients.

There were one or two complaints, however, that were more serious. Accusations of over-medicating geriatric patients and a few stories of visits gone awry. I thought nothing of this before the meeting but when I presented these few complaints to Jenny her faced changed in a way that seemed very familiar. We kept talking but the back of my mind wanted to store that look on her face to revisit later. I knew I had seen that face before.

As I drove away after our meeting, it hit me almost immediately. There, in front of me, was the face I had seen my mother make too many times. I had seen this face on other mothers as well. It was the expression you see when a child tells their mother "I hate you" or "you don't care about me!" The face of a person who has given everything, sacrificed themselves more than anyone could ever know, only to be told that it isn't good enough.

Jenny's facial expression matched that of my mother when I was in my nasty teen years because, like a mother, she had dedicated her life to these people and given her heart to her work. To discover that some people did not see her sacrifices but instead had only criticisms, well, it broke a piece off of her heart. The face I was seeing was a person crushed by lack of appreciation.

How often does this happen in the world of healthcare? I would venture to guess it happens on a regular basis. With Jenny in my mind, I began to think about the healthcare professionals I had put in my critical sights. I thought of "Betty," the transplant coordinator I wrote about in "Sick Girl Speaks!" Betty was the one who told me to forget about a second transplant and prepare to die. When "Vicki" took her place and offered me a chance on the list, I immediately began to attack Betty for her lack of foresight, compassion and energy. I accused her of being lazy and of not caring about her patients.

Seeing Jenny's face made me think back to those criticisms and I had to ask myself if those things I believed about Betty were really true. I had to admit to myself that I could never know the reasons Betty did what she did and therefore, I could never know if my judgments of her motives and character had any merit whatsoever. I imagined Betty's face as she read my book and felt remorse. What if she believed what she told me and she thought she was doing the best thing she could by telling me the truth? What if I had crushed Betty with my lack of understanding and appreciation? What if I had been entirely unfair?

And so it is, my continued journey into transforming my perceptions of healthcare professionals. Because we all carry the banners of "us" and "them" in our current healthcare culture, making bold and hurtful statements like mine comes to many patients easily. Too often my caregivers appear as the enemy, especially when they deliver news I do not want to hear in a way I do not want to hear it.

So, to Betty and others, I apologize for my bold and possibly false assumptions. To Jenny, I thank you for letting me see the disappointment that comes when dedication meets disapproval. When I find myself blasting my doctor or my nurse in the future, I will think of Jenny's face first from now on.

Humans. I am finally seeing my providers as humans. How strange that I have accused them for so long of seeing me as an object, an "it", only to discover that I have been doing exactly the same thing myself.

3 comments:

Midlife Midwife said...

I am always amazed at how you can condense my feelings in such a way that they are crystal clear. I know EXACTLY what you are talking about but have never been able to put it into words. "The face of a person who has given everything, sacrificed themselves more than anyone could ever know, only to be told that it isn't good enough."

Sometimes though, I see the same look in my patients eyes when I make the mistake of not acknowleging their sacrifices. Thanks for another thought provoking blog.

Genevieve said...

This last year hasn't been very helpful in creating justified confidence or trust in the doctors I've seen. Unfortunately, I've had several experiences that have made me wanna give um a swift kick in the arce. The problem I face now is not to sterotype the new doctors I see in the category of those who have treated me poorly. I think I became quite bitter at some point, trying desperately to change perspective. Man is it hard when you've been burnt so many times.

Anonymous said...

Many health care providers are just as guilty of being judgemental and critical of patients and families. Unfortunately it is still a paternalistic system, but slowly getting better.