Learning Anger

During this time period of my life--when I'm getting used to the knowledge that I will be a doctor--I've noticed that the role of physician keeps changing in my mind. It keeps growing, morphing into something that sometimes surprises me. For example, until yesterday, I never thought of it as the physician's job to get angry (I guess I thought this role was reserved for stubborn people who think they know better than the doctor because they read WebMD...). But, I realize now that sometimes it's completely necessary for a good doctor to get pissed.

My father had surgery on Friday. A little while after the surgery, my father was ready to be released, however, he could not leave because no one had delivered this particular piece of equipment that he needed for his recovery. The surgeon got on the phone, called the equipment provider, and screamed at the driver for being late--the delivery was made very shortly afterward. While giving my parents their equipment, the driver said that he and the surgeon are actually best friends--outside of work. But, he explained that the surgeon was on him all the time during working hours. The surgeon doesn't let his personal feelings affect their professional relationship at all...when he's on duty, the patient is the priority. This whole scene reminded me of something that happened once while I was shadowing a different surgeon last summer:

This surgeon and I had spent a lot of time together--she's really incredible and invested a lot of time with me. I was with her all day one Tuesday (surgery day) and it was about 6pm--we'd been there for 12 hours. While preparing for her last surgery of the day, this very large man (who I later found out was in charge of the OR schedule) came in and told her that her last patient was going to have to be rescheduled (this surgeon, as a cancer specialist, didn't like the idea of postponing her patient's surgery at all, for obvious reasons). This doctor transformed from the soft-spoken, kind woman I had always been around into a formidable fireball (she is only about 5 feet tall but she put that more-than-six-foot-tall man in his place quite quickly). She made it very clear to everyone that her patient would not be rescheduled and that the manager was going to have to take a different OR away because she wasn't loosing hers. As soon as the guy left the room, she turned to me, smiled, and said, "If you don't fight for your patients, no one will."

After what happened this weekend with my family, I understand even more how right this doctor was. I'm so thankful that my father's surgeon stepped in on my parent's behalf and got things done. His bold attitude made them feel safe, well-represented, and important. That's how a patient and his or her family should feel.

So my most recent lesson is that the ability to become righteously indignant is a prerequisite for being a good doctor. Who knew?