I'm not sure the mainstream media really understands what being a doctor is all about. If you think about it, they take a few aspects of medicine, beef them up, and trim off the excess fat...the "fat" being the not-so-interesting, the not-so-sensational...the not-so-dramatic. Take a look at a few pictures here. The above picture is, as everyone knows, taken from the ever-popular, ever-glamorized "Grey's Anatomy". If someone watching this show didn't know otherwise, they would probably think being a doctor is about working long hours, having sex with your co-workers, broken relationships, unethical and amoral behavior, and just a pinch of caring for patients. Don't let the guise of this show fool you: this show does not peg the reality of being a doctor.
Ah, the glamorous life of an Emergency Medicine physician. It's all about 24/7, adrenaline pumping action. Or is it? I've had a little bit of experience so far in this department. It's not really like this, at all. The fun parts don't happen nearly as often as everyone thinks. I would say, and please correct me if I'm wrong, that out of every 100 visits, on average 20-30 are actual emergencies. Most of the time, it's pain pill addicts, sore throats, chronic back pain, and skin abscesses. This is medicine, too, don't get me wrong...just not true heart-pumping, action-packed NBC medicine. Again, don't be fooled.
Actually, I have a soft spot of Dr. Heathcliff Huxtable. Who wouldn't want their OB/GYN practice right in their basement? Who wouldn't want to work as a part time OB/GYN while living in an upscale, New York City townhome with his part-time legal eagle wife and five kids? Again...don't be fooled.
I hope none of you out there reading this believe that there can truly exist a physician who is board certified in every single area of medicine and still be as young as he is. Okay, let's look at it this way. Let's say at the very least, he is based in internal medicine. The average age of someone entering this sacred profession is 23. That's 4 years in med school, 3 years in internal medicine residency (now for the fun part)...if a "House" were to truly exist he would have gone through 3 years for pulmonary/critical care fellowship, 3 years for infectious disease, 3 years for cardiology, 3 years for nephrology, 3 years for rheumatology, 3 years for gastroenterology, then gone back for 7 years for neurosurgery residency (remember the brain biopsy episodes?), then gone back for 5 years in interventional radiology. That would make a "House" doctor 60 years old before he could begin his first day as a private "diagnostician". Don't be fooled.
It would be great if medicine were as simple applying "black drawing salve" or "tincture of willow blossom" for every ailment. Ol' Doc from Gunsmoke didn't have much in his arsenal. He did care, though...which sometimes is all you can do. I'd say I would love to be as paternal as he was with his patients.
Few tv docs hit the nail on the head, so to speak, about being a physician. One of those few is Hawkeye Pierce from MASH. He and the other surgeons at the MASH 4077 unit knew quite well what it meant for patient care to be affected in a negative way by a governing body. They did what they could with what they had...they were great docs, but they constantly had to go up against something bigger than themselves...and they usually lost. If you think about it, on one level it's a preview of socialized medicine...don't need to get into that now, though.
My hospital: UK Medical Center...just thought I'd put a plug in here for that. This picture represents where I am having my coming-of-age as a young doc. Part of that, as with any intern, is dealing with death. As a doctor, I hear often "death is a part of life". It's true, but I don't think I can just lump that in with all the other parts of life that are...well...a part of life. Brushing your teeth is a part of life; getting a flat tire is a part of life; birthdays, relationships, coffee, work, bathtime...those are just a part of life. Death, while a part of life, is a significant part of your life. It's the end of your life. Duh. But, I think people rarely stop to think...really consider what death means. I have to put myself in this category until recently.
Mr. W is a retired Baptist preacher, and he looks it. Hair that is white as cotton, a gentle demeanor, well-dressed...it took me no time at all to imagine him behind a pulpit. Not one of those hokey televangelist...someone that is really a follower of Christ. His wife was diagnosed with breast cancer thirty years ago. The only treatment at that time was a radical mastectomy, after which she went into remission.
I thought this photo would be fitting for this post. A representation of pain; physical, mental, emotional, spiritual...anguish. Thirty years later, Mrs. W's breast cancer comes back. Thirty years...I haven't even lived that long. It's funny how God chooses to answer prayers. I'm sure the thirty year remission was an answered prayer to them...I am sure the thirty-years-later recurrence was not an answered prayer. Without getting too scientific, her breast cancer spread to her lungs and ribs. She was in a lot of discomfort: the right lung was getting wadded up like a newspaper due to all the fluid around it...the fluid that was relentlessly reaccumulating no matter how much it was drained. Her heart had taken a beating from all that radiation...it didn't pump like it once did thirty years ago. Her appetite was taken from her by the cancer...the cancer that stole all the calories and nutrients from her nutrition. She barely survived off of clear liquids and soft foods...hardly any protein. She had lost so much protein, all the fluid from her bloodstream was slowly leaking out of the vessels...into her lungs, into her legs, into anywhere except where it was supposed to be.
I've never known someone in the last few hours of their life, knowing ahead of time that they weren't going to survive the night. Each passing day, I saw Mrs. W get more and more weak. I saw how Mr. W wouldn't leave her side; I guess fifty-four years of marriage will do that to you. He would shuffle around, waiting hand-and-foot on her. Most of the shuffling, however, was his anxiety.
I walked in one afternoon to see Mr. W sitting at bedside, holding Mrs. W's hand. We struck up a conversation, and he started telling me about how after fifty-four years, he and his wife had genuinely become one. As I sat there, I realized I couldn't imagine life without Sarah, my wife of six years. I feel like I would be lost without her, after only six years of marriage. Fifty-four years...geez.
I've been trying to run early in the mornings before work. On the morning of November 20th, I got up to run a few miles, and I was on schedule for once. Usually the run puts me behind on getting to the hospital on time. This morning, though, I was (for some strange reason) on time. I arrived a few minutes early, and as I walked through the doors of the Markey Cancer Center, I realized why I was on time. Mrs. W had passed mere minutes before I had arrived, and I was the only one around to pronounce her. It suddenly hit me that this is how God wanted it, and I felt honored to do it. I had spent the last week making sure she was as comfortable as possible. I walked in, and saw her body lying there. It had that unmistakeably empty look. Mr. W was sitting on the couch, supporting his head with his hands, tears streaming down from his eyes. My first thought was, "Holy crap. What am I doing here? I'm only twenty-seven years old! What am I gonna be able to offer a man who is three times my age and who's been married fifty years longer?"
God answered: "A hand"
So, I held his hand.
"I just don't know what I'm gonna do. How can I live without her? Fifty-four years is a long time. I know this sounds crazy, but part of me wishes I could have gone with her."
I said, "Not crazy..I totally understand." I do; I still do.
God spoke to me through Mr. W's next words. Here is this man who just lost his wife of fifty-four years, and he chooses next to say:
"Andrew, I just want to say what a great doctor you've been for us. I know this is tough for you, too. You are going to be a great doctor, and I consider you my friend."
Wow. I started to immediately tear up. How much had this man just humbled himself in the eyes of the Lord. He chose to encourage me during the most horrible time in his life. A time that I might have just as easily chosen to cuss at everyone, have a horrible episode..dare I say, curse God for taking my wife from me. Instead, he said, "I know my faith will get me through this, it's just so hard right now...you keep being the best Christian doctor you can be."
I pray that in the last hours of my life or Sarah's, that I am as gracious, selfless, and contrite-of-spirit as Mr. W was when his wife died. That changed me...I'm not sure I will ever know how much it changed me, but I do know that God spoke to me in that moment. That moment I offered Mr. W my hand. To think, all those years of studying, tests, lectures, and long hours retracting fat flaps and ribs in surgery...and none of it contributed to being Mr. W's doctor in that moment. Instead, all I needed to do to be his doctor at that moment was to hold his hand...no drama, no glamor, no sensationalism...just trying to show the love that Christ would have shown-simple, subtle, powerful.
