Columnist
David Geffen School of Medicine at UCLA
Tiffany is a medical student at David Geffen School of Medicine at UCLA, class of 2019. She graduated with a BS in Microbiology, Immunology, and Molecular Genetics from UCLA in 2015. Tiffany is passionate about breaking down barriers between patients and physicians and is an advocate of humanism in medicine. When possible, she loves to travel and experience the culture, landscapes, and food from different places.
The Patient | Physician Perspective
Lessons learned from both sides - A column exploring the qualities of a physician from the perspective of a physician in training, through the lens of a patient.
I underwent my first transsphenoidal hypophysectomy, fully believing in the capabilities of my neurosurgeon, who had years of experience and training from a reputable institution, hoping that my surgery would be a success and cure me of Cushing Disease, which had turned my life upside down in its course the past half year.
Have you ever had a sinking feeling in your stomach when you are about to tell something to a patient or family member that might change their life forever? I had that feeling before speaking to the wife of my patient, Mr. Smith. It had only been one day since Mr. Smith was first admitted to the inpatient unit but regardless of how long the interaction is with a patient and their loved ones, some news is always difficult to deliver.
Patients don’t always have to let us into their rooms. As medical students, I think we don’t give enough acknowledgement or praise to the vulnerable individuals that allow flocks of medical students to bumble around their bedside. But our perceived ineptness is the last thing on the patient’s mind; a friendly face that is willing to listen to their story is just as important.
Friday afternoon psychiatry didactic sessions are a holy time among medical students. A golden weekend rapidly approaches and the afternoon, typically spent trudging through paperwork, is instead spent listening to residents talk with minimal effort required to listen. At the end of a frantic third year of rotating, sometimes it’s nice to just set the busy work down and take it all in. Granted, I’ll actually have to learn the info at some point before the test, but for one afternoon it’s nice to be passive.
With more applicants than ever, and a relatively static number of medical school and residency spots, there has been an increase in the use of metrics such as standardized test scores, GPAs and research publications to differentiate between applicants. Unfortunately, an emphasis on the unquantifiable attributes of physicians — the qualities that actually differentiate great clinicians from good ones — seems to have fallen by the wayside.
As young children growing up, we all called each other by first name. So did our parents, relatives, teachers, and anyone else we ran into that wanted a way to identify who we were. As adults, attending physicians are still called by their first names around the same group of people from childhood. However, patients and most of the clinical staff may not even know the physician’s first name. When transitioning from a senior resident to a faculty physician, some event occurs where that beloved first name is molted. After the right of passage is completed, the rookie doctor becomes a veteran doctor; free of restrictions, supervision, and a first name.
The other day, while scouring my computer for a lost document, I stumbled upon a speech I had given for my medical school’s anatomy donor recognition ceremony. It was an event held every fall, right after anatomy, during which our school’s first-year students showed their appreciation to the friends and families whose loved ones donated their bodies to science so that we could better learn the anatomy of the body. It has been a couple years since, so I decided to take another look at it.
My first rotation as a third-year medical student, I met a man who will forever influence the way I approach my patients. He had come to the hospital because of rectal bleeding and was ultimately diagnosed with colon cancer. As I got to know him, I learned that he had fought in two wars, started a successful business and was married for more than 50 years. And he was enormous, six-foot five-inches and 280 pounds, with a voice that reminded me of Lee Marshell — think Tony the Tiger and the guy who sang “You’re a Mean One, Mr. Grinch.”
On a recent visit to my parents’ home in Upstate New York, just as the snow had finished melting and our tulips were beginning to sprout, my dad and I went out for a walk. As we made our way down our driveway to the railroad-tracks-turned-walking-trail that runs through the woods near our house, we bumped into one of my dad’s patients. With a hearty grin, the middle-aged man proudly told my dad how his morning blood sugars were improving. My dad beamed, and gave him a big high five. Later, as we walked along the trail, he told me how thrilled he was to see this patient getting the exercise that would help treat his diabetes and high blood pressure.
“When I was in Laredo, I studied cello when I was in undergrad. My ultimate goal with the cello I guess “professionally” was to play cello with the Laredo Philharmonic Orchestra, which I did in April of my senior year. It was a huge deal for me. Since I was really young I always wanted to play with them — [it was] definitely my ultimate goal in music.”
How can doctors-in-training take advantage of the distinct liberty they have to bond the patient Stephan, a fourth-year medical student in Cincinnati when interviewed and now an ophthalmology resident, reflects on how the art of connecting deeply with patients is not prioritized — but this can be remedied. He tells a story about a patient he met on his internal medicine rotation that illustrates how medical students are in a unique position to cultivate relationships in health care.
“The baby’s out,” shouts one of the labor & delivery residents as her hands firmly grab and pull the baby’s shoulders with the mother’s final push. A nurse holding the mother’s leg during the delivery walks over to the pediatric team and whispers, “cleft lip,” as if the baby had committed a crime. Instantly, we fall silent.
Reporter and in-Training Staff Member
Rush Medical College
Meng Zhang is a medical student at Rush Medical College, Class of 2017, in Chicago. Meng obtained her bachelor degree in Biological Science in 2010 from University of California - San Diego. Her professional interests are writing, underserved communities, and holistic medicine.
When she's not being a 5/8th of a doctor and writing patient notes "for educational purpose only", she likes to sleep until sunrise, eat a healthy meal, and enjoy every bit of sunshine Chicago offers. Reading, watching TV shows/movies, froyo-ing, and shopping are always welcomed when possible.
