I went to a wedding last week in
chintadripet. Nothing surprising about going to a wedding you might say, but it
was a one – off occasion for me because it was the wedding of a former patient
of mine. Now, I am someone who firmly believes in keeping his professional and
personal lives separate. I have rarely; or rather never socialized with
patients, despite the wedding and other invitations I get on a frequent basis.
Why I cannot say. Its not because I think that I am special or it would in any
way not be the right thing to do. Its just that, I prefer not to think of
patients and their problems in my personal time. Not that I dont. But I do try
to keep it down to as minimum as possible. Or this job will suck you down.
Being constantly around sick people, being around people in pain and being able
to do nothing about it most of the time is as soul destroying as any other job
but also has the added risk of not
allowing you to tune your mind off other peoples worries and concentrate on
your own problems. Hence, most doctors
refer to patients as cases not as people to see if thinking in the abstract
helps keep the mind of them. But still statistics show that doctors are in the
high risk group for depression and doctors are some of the most vulnerable
people to heart disease. Not that I am afraid of any heart disease or anything,
for physical fitness has turned as important a part of my daily life as eating
or sleeping.
Anyway to come back to the premise
of the post, the reason I choose to attend this particular patient wedding was
because I was proud of this girl. Or rather proud of my treatment and its
successful outcome. When this patient had first come to me, I had turned her
down like every other doctor she had been to recently. There was nothing I
could do to help her in my opinion. And I would have stuck to “no” had not this
been a VIP case. Yes, this patient had come to me with a recommendation letter,
referred by my mom. The mother of the patient worked as a domestic servant in
the household of a close colleague of my mother, the family was poor, they
couldn't afford to spend any more money for treatment, the girls wedding had
been fixed and the date was fast approaching and the family was in desperate
straits and despite the fact that this patient would have to be treated free by
me, if I knew what was good for me I would not turn down the patient and face
my mom’s wrath at home (and probably get put on a bread-only diet).
The reason my instincts had
screamed to decline this case on first examination was that the patient had
already undergo multiple surgeries before coming to me and most of them had
failed to cure her basic defect. Plus the previous surgeries had removed
whatever useful bone and other tissues which were available on her body (as
grafts harvested to be used in a different area) and had used them in a failed
cause without achieving anything. So even if I had wanted to, there was nothing
there left for me to use to make her better. But sometimes when you are forced
to improvise, you surprise yourself. Or at least I did. Once I decided that the
usual treatment protocols would never work with this patient, I thought up a
different way to treat without treating (kinda zen- but I like describing it
that way). I even thought up a fancy sounding name for it (to bamboozle other
doctors who ask) but the idea was to do the minimum required with the minimum
available to last her till her wedding. And mission accomplished. The little
treatment I did for the patient worked like a charm and the patient and her
family were very happy, grateful and insistent on my attending the wedding and
hence I made an exception just this once.
Anyway, I have often thought about
how reluctant doctors (or at least surgeons) are; to accept cases which others
have treated before them. It’s not just a matter of not being able to see the
original condition of the disease before someone else mangles it in a botched
surgery. It’s not exactly about pride at not being consulted first, not being
the first choice so to say. The real reason, I would say is that doctors keep
score. Just like any other professionals, they worry about their success rates.
The higher they rise, the more they worry about their success rates. Their
reputation demands that every single patient they treat turn out to be a
success. To achieve that kind of consistency they turn down cases which in
their opinion have even a marginal risk of failure. It’s like a batsman cutting
down all risky shots to make sure that he scores a century every match And that
means they stick to only safe cases and turn down the demanding ones, the
difficult ones and also the interesting ones. I guess they have a right to, but
sometimes this is carried to the extreme. If every single doctor decides only
to treat those patients he can guarantee a success, what will happen to others
who need it as bad but are also risky to treat. This is what I used to think
myself and this was what brought me a lot of trouble in my younger days.
For instance, in my younger days when
I was just dipping my feet in the profession (at Tanjore Medical college
hospital) and had absolutely no clue to what I was doing, I was caught in a bind
once because of my over enthusiastic (plus compassionate) mindset. Once during
a late night duty period (when the mind is half asleep) a colleague from the
ENT department managed to pass on a terminal cancer patient (someone who is at
the end stage of the disease and about to die) to me with the improbable story
of their wards being full and no place for the patient (plus the seductive story
that this was something which was in our specialty and we could treat better)
and as our beds were free could I shift the patient over to our ward? It shows
just how much of an innocent babe (greenhorn) I was that I managed to swallow
this story hook, line and sinker and admitted the patient in our wards. Until the
next day, when my chief came for the ward rounds and caught on to the swindle
immediately. After a barrage of bad words at high pitch delivered at me (must
have gone on for atleast half an hour non-stop), my chief asked me what the
hell will we say at the 3-M? And that’s when it struck me what a fool I had
been.
The 3-M for those who don’t know
is the Monthly Mortality Meeting where the death cases from each department are
discussed every month. Every single department has to explain about patients
they lost that month and what they learned from the experience to prevent it
from happening again. This self flagellation will not prevent the other
departments from pitching in with their own expert analysis of the in-competencies
of the doctors and about what they did wrong. It sometimes degenerated into
all-out slugfests where insults were traded openly based on what the other
group had said at the last meet. And my chief was sure that the sanctimonious ent
doc who had cleverly passed on the patient to us, would be the first one to
roast us alive when the patient died despite him knowing very well that there
was nothing we could do at this stage (the last stage) for the patient. But hey,
he had got it off his hands didn’t he? So he could have a go at us with clear conscience.
Anyway, the story ended with my being given a punishment posting at the
fracture clinic – re-fracturing improperly set (half healed) fractures for
re-setting properly, in other words a bone breaking job, plus a job which meant
that I would always be delayed for lunch, which meant that the mess would have just
empty vessels being washed when I turned up for lunch. Even after all this
time, I still remember that month I survived majorly on bananas and biscuits. And
I remember that my chief somehow passed on the patient to general surgery and
got me off the hook.
The lesson I learned from that
episode was that people will be merciless in taking advantage of you if you are
innocent. And also that I was too young and inexperienced to take risks without
proper guidance. But after all these years I have learnt to trust my own judgment
rather than others opinions. To take a risk or two, if I judge I can pull it
off. And I have also made it a habit of predominantly
picking up revision surgeries (which is not as grotesque as it sounds) but
which means doing a second surgery to correct any surgery which did not come
out right the first time (for whatever reason). I have learned to work within
the limitations, I have learned to lower my expectations (and the patients) and
I am not fazed by the occasional failure. It is kind of liberating to treat patients
when I don’t have targets to maintain and for whom I can do my best without worrying
about my success rates or about doing something spectacular all the time. Sometimes
not having a big reputation, being junior, does have its perks, doesn’t it?
So tell me, do you think that
doctors should be always infallible and have 100% success rates? Or do you
think that doctors should be ready to do the best they can, even if the results
are not going to be spectacular? Which kind of doctor would you prefer to be
treated by?
(P.S. I really enjoyed the wedding
as I got to hear for the first time certain native musical instruments like
daalaku, dhol and dappi which are never played by mainstream orchestras)