I believe listening is powerful Medicine.
Studies have shown it takes a physician about 18 seconds to interrupt a patient following he begins talking.
It was Sunday. I had one last patient to see. I approached her room in a hurry and stood at the doorway. She was an older woman, sitting at the edge of the bed, struggling to put socks on her swollen feet. I crossed the threshold, spoke rapidly to the nurse, scanned her chart noting she was in stable condition. I was nearly in the clear.
I leaned on the bedrail seeking down at her. She asked if I could assist put on her socks. Rather, I launched into a monologue that went something like this: "How are you feeling? Your sugars and blood pressure were high but they're much better nowadays. The nurse mentioned you are anxious to see your son who's visiting you currently. It is nice to have loved ones go to from far away. I bet you definitely look forward to seeing him."
She stopped me having a stern, authoritative voice. "Sit down, physician. This is my story, not your story."
I was surprised and embarrassed. I sat down. I helped her using the socks. She began to tell me that her only son lived around the corner from her, but she had not seen him in five years. She believed that the anxiety of this contributed significantly to her wellness challenges. Right after hearing her story and putting on her socks, I asked if there was anything else I could do for her. She shook her head no and smiled. All she wanted me to do was to listen.
Each and every story is different. Some are detailed; others are vague. Some have a beginning, middle and end. Others wander without having a clear conclusion. Some are accurate; other people not. Yet all those issues do not seriously matter. What matters to the storyteller is that the story is heard - without having interruption, assumption or judgment.
Listening to someone's story expenses much less than expensive diagnostic testing but is key to healing and diagnosis.
I normally thought of what that woman taught me, and I reminded myself of the significance of stopping, sitting down and truly listening. And, not long after, in an unexpected twist, I became the patient, with a diagnosis of several sclerosis at age 31. Now, 20 years later, I sit all the time - in a wheelchair.
For as long as I could, I continued to see patients from my chair, but I had to resign when my hands were affected. I still teach med students as well as other wellness care experts, but now from the perspective of physician and patient.
I tell them I believe within the power of listening. I tell them I know firsthand that immeasurable healing takes place inside me when somebody stops, sits down and listens to my story.
Studies have shown it takes a physician about 18 seconds to interrupt a patient following he begins talking.
It was Sunday. I had one last patient to see. I approached her room in a hurry and stood at the doorway. She was an older woman, sitting at the edge of the bed, struggling to put socks on her swollen feet. I crossed the threshold, spoke rapidly to the nurse, scanned her chart noting she was in stable condition. I was nearly in the clear.
I leaned on the bedrail seeking down at her. She asked if I could assist put on her socks. Rather, I launched into a monologue that went something like this: "How are you feeling? Your sugars and blood pressure were high but they're much better nowadays. The nurse mentioned you are anxious to see your son who's visiting you currently. It is nice to have loved ones go to from far away. I bet you definitely look forward to seeing him."
She stopped me having a stern, authoritative voice. "Sit down, physician. This is my story, not your story."
I was surprised and embarrassed. I sat down. I helped her using the socks. She began to tell me that her only son lived around the corner from her, but she had not seen him in five years. She believed that the anxiety of this contributed significantly to her wellness challenges. Right after hearing her story and putting on her socks, I asked if there was anything else I could do for her. She shook her head no and smiled. All she wanted me to do was to listen.
Each and every story is different. Some are detailed; others are vague. Some have a beginning, middle and end. Others wander without having a clear conclusion. Some are accurate; other people not. Yet all those issues do not seriously matter. What matters to the storyteller is that the story is heard - without having interruption, assumption or judgment.
Listening to someone's story expenses much less than expensive diagnostic testing but is key to healing and diagnosis.
I normally thought of what that woman taught me, and I reminded myself of the significance of stopping, sitting down and truly listening. And, not long after, in an unexpected twist, I became the patient, with a diagnosis of several sclerosis at age 31. Now, 20 years later, I sit all the time - in a wheelchair.
For as long as I could, I continued to see patients from my chair, but I had to resign when my hands were affected. I still teach med students as well as other wellness care experts, but now from the perspective of physician and patient.
I tell them I believe within the power of listening. I tell them I know firsthand that immeasurable healing takes place inside me when somebody stops, sits down and listens to my story.
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