Narrative Medicine Monday: Who Heals the Healer?

Dr. Huma Farid asks “Who Heals the Healer?” in her recent essay in JAMA, and her answer might surprise you. Farid describes weeping alongside her patient early in her obstetric training when she delivers a stillborn baby. The gravity of this experience affects Farid deeply as she reflects on human suffering, recognizing “that my work would encompass taking care of women at some of the worst times in their lives.”

As Farid progresses in her career, though, she realizes that she no longer has the same reaction, the same connection to the suffering of her patients: “My eyes dry, I wondered, when was the last time I had truly connected with a patient, empathized with her sorrow, and allowed myself to feel a sliver of her pain?”

Farid acknowledges that at that time she was also going through her own personal difficulties, and that despite this, she did her best to “remain empathetic and kind” to her patients: “I tried to give as much of myself as I could, but I felt like I had a finite, limited reserve of empathy.” Do you view empathy as a finite resource, or have you experienced a similar limited reserve to connect with your patients?

Farid’s commentary really resonated with me. It seems a simple statement to say doctors are human too, but it’s a reality we often forget. Most doctors are incredibly resilient and, even so, it only takes one personal life stressor to topple the precarious balance of mental and emotional rigors that come with being a physician in today’s healthcare environment. As Farid notes, the decline in empathy “may be driven by the demands of modern medicine and exacerbated by personal experiences.”

When I experienced my own significant personal life upheaval a few years ago, I, like Farid, “was still able to perform my clinical duties and to provide good patient care despite struggling to be empathic. However, studies have demonstrated that physician empathy improves both patient outcomes and patient satisfaction….” Ideally, for both the patient and physician’s sake, we would find ways to combat the decline in empathy that is an inherent byproduct of the current healthcare environment.

Ultimately, Farid determines that empathy “enables us to understand and connect with a patient’s perspective, an invaluable resource in an environment that has become increasingly polarized and rife with divisions.” Farid describes an interaction with a patient where she “mostly listened” and, in return, receives heartfelt thanks and hugs. Through that emotional and physical connection, Farid regains a piece of her “profoundly and imperfectly human” self. May we all find a way to move in that direction.

Writing Prompt: Farid wonders “what it meant for me that I had lost some ability to feel a patient’s pain.” If you’re a healthcare professional, have you lost some of that ability throughout your medical training or career? Think about a time you failed to have empathy for a patient’s suffering or, as a patient, that you felt your healthcare provider had little empathy for your pain. Alternatively, describe a time that your empathy has been “rekindled.” Write for 10 minutes.

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Narrative Medicine Monday: Why Doctors Should Read Fiction

Sam Kean’s article in The Atlantic, Why Doctors Should Read Fiction,” highlights what many medical schools, residencies and medical groups are realizing: medical providers and patients alike benefit from physicians taking an interest in literature. Kean asks, “if studying medicine is good training for literature, could studying literature also be good training for medicine?”

Kean’s article outlines a study in Literature and Medicine, “Showing That Medical Ethics Cases Can Miss the Point.” The study found that “certain literary exercises…can expand doctors’ worldviews and make them more attuned to the dilemmas real patients face.”

Students rewrite and dissect short stories that expose an ethical case study, such as physician-writer Richard Seltzer’s “Fetishes.” The study’s author, Woods Nash, argues that “short stories are far more effective means of teaching students and health-care professionals to wrestle with the mess, to pay attention to narrative perspective and detail, and to become more comfortable with ambiguity.”

Writing Prompt: Have you read a piece of fiction that outlined a certain bioethical dilemma? Do you agree with Kean’s assertion that doctors should read fiction? How might the practice prove beneficial to a medical provider? Read Seltzer’s “Fetishes” and rewrite the story in short form, as a poem or case study. What new insight do you gain from this exercise? Write for 10 minutes.

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Narrative Medicine Monday: In Shock

Although I’ve never met her, author and critical care physician Rana Awdish on some level feels familiar. Not only are we both part of a supportive online group of physician-writers, but I just finished reading her wrenching memoir, “In Shock: My Journey from Death to Recovery and the Redemptive Power of Hope.” Awdish’s gripping account of her near-death experience, subsequent hospitalization in her own ICU and revelations about the shortcomings in both support for and education of medical providers in the realm of empathy are illuminating. Her book is infused with challenge and hope and a call to transform the way we train physicians and care for patients.

Awdish is thrust from the world of providing medicine into that of receiving it – a patient under her own colleagues’ care. The contrast of these positions of power and vulnerability are striking and Awdish describes the jarring experience and her own enlightenment as she pivots between these two roles. She shares with the reader her revelations regarding how we provide medical care to those in crisis and inspires us to find a better way.

I was particularly convicted by Awdish’s insight into how medical training encourages physicians to suppress many of our emotions. She traces this ideal back to the father of modern medicine, Sir William Osler, who encouraged “‘aequanimitas.’ Osler regarded this trait as the premier quality of a physician. It represented an imperturbability that was described as manifesting in ‘coolness and presence of mind under all circumstances, calmness amid storm, clearness of judgment in moments of grave peril.'”

Awdish asserts that as physicians “we aren’t trained to see our patients. We are trained to see pathology. We are taught to forage with scalpels and forceps for an elusive diagnosis buried within obfuscating tissues. We excavate alongside our mentors in delicate, deliberate layers, test by test, attempting to unearth disease. The true relationship is forged between the doctor and the disease.” Do you agree with Awdish’s assessment? Why or why not?

If you’re a physician, if you’re a patient: read this book. Discuss it with your colleagues, mull over it with your book club. The questions Awdish raises, the challenges she poses are vital to improving the way we care for each other in our most acute times of need.

Writing Prompt: If you’re a physician, did you learn to develop “aequanimitas” through your training? Did you feel this trait was a requirement, overtly stated or otherwise, to be a “good physician?” Have you yourself ever been a patient feeling, like Awdish, “powerless in a way that is impossible to imagine, from a privileged position of wholeness and well-being?” Awdish lists biting phrases that were directly said to her or that she overheard when she was a patient. Have you experienced similarly painful words from a medical provider? Have you said such words to a patient before? Try writing from both the patient and the medical provider’s perspectives. Write for 10 minutes.

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Narrative Medicine Monday: A View from the Edge

Dr. Rana Awdish is a critical care physician turned advocate for training in compassionate care following her incredible near death experience in her own hospital. Her essay “A View from the Edge” in the New England Journal of Medicine provides an overview of her 2008 experience as a critically ill patient cared for by her colleagues.

In her book “In Shock,” out this October by St. Martin’s Press, she outlines her harrowing near-death illness and recovery. I’m eager to read Awdish’s book and hear more about how her experience led to advocacy for “compassionate, coordinated care.” In her NEJM essay she describes how “small things would gut me. Receiving a bill for the attempted resuscitation of the baby, for example…. A trivial oversight, by a department ostensibly not involved in patient care, had the potential to bring me to my knees.” After recovering, Awdish channels her grueling patient experience into a drive to transform the way we receive and provide medical care. She contends “we need to reflect on times when our care has deviated from what we intended — when we haven’t been who we hoped to be. We have to be transparent and allow the failure to reshape us, to help us reset our intention and mold our future selves.”

Writing Prompt: Have you noted an erosion of empathy among medical providers? If so, think of a specific example and write about how you felt as the patient. If you’re a medical provider, have you ever been cared for by colleagues at your own hospital? What was it like to be on the “other side,” as a patient? Did you come away from the experience with new knowledge and empathy that you then incorporated into your own practice? Write for 10 minutes. 

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Narrative Medicine Monday: Locked-in Syndrome

Pakistani bioethicist Anika Khan reviews Jean-Dominique Bauby’s remarkable story in her essay “Locked-in syndrome: inside the cocoon.” In it, she describes how Bauby, an editor of a prominent magazine who suffered a debilitating stroke, lived out his days entirely paralyzed but with mental clarity completely intact. Bauby’s only method of communication, and how he eventually wrote his 1997 book The Diving Bell and the Butterfly was by blinking with his left eyelid. He used a French alphabet provided by his speech therapist to painstakingly blink his way to communication with the outer world.

Khan relays some of Bauby’s remarkable insights into living in such a state and she also reflects on how medical providers need to take a “more empathetic look at the incapacity and helplessness experienced not only by patients with locked-in syndrome, but by analogy, other patients who have no way of giving voice to their experience of sickness. Often, patients become diseases, numbers and syndromes to healthcare professionals who have repeatedly seen illness and have lost the capacity to relate to the experiences of patients.”

Writing Prompt: Have you as a patient ever felt misunderstood by your medical provider? What were you trying to relay and what was the response that revealed to you the miscommunication? Think about your visceral reaction to this encounter. As providers, what specifically have you done to combat the risk of patients becoming “diseases, numbers and syndromes?” How do you maintain this empathy while still preserving some emotional boundaries? Write for 10 minutes.

 

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