Ever since I could remember, I stood out in my class for all the wrong reasons. I was the kid who dangled his feet from chairs while others rested their feet flat, the kid forced to stand in the front during class photos and the kid who always had his height checked by the ride operator during field trips to the local amusement parks. But it wasn’t just a matter of being short, I was tiny, frail almost, in comparison to other kids my age. Ultimately, this became a source of quiet worry for my parents and a loud one for me, given the embarrassment that often comes the way of anyone different at that age.
Our family doctor eventually would refer us to Dr. C, an endocrinologist known for his clinical expertise and, as I would soon come to learn, his remarkable approach to patient care. During my first visit to his office, I recall being surrounded by daunting growth charts and hormone-related posters. At the time, it almost felt like I was on trial, about to be read a sentence rather than be given a treatment. After a couple more visits and blood tests, Dr. C would introduce me to my condition: growth hormone deficiency (GHD). The prescribed remedy? Daily injections for the next eight years. Now, for an eight-year-old who had low pain tolerance and saw annual flu shots as the end of the world, the idea of poking myself with a needle for the majority of my childhood was nothing short of terrifying.
Despite my fears, something about Dr. C made the terrifying seem bearable. Maybe it was his calm and unassuming demeanor, or perhaps the way he dedicated most of our initial appointment not to delving into the medical complexities, but simply getting to know me. He asked about my hobbies, favorite subjects and what I liked to do after school. I remember sharing with him at the time my interest in sports, and more specifically my fondness of basketball.
“Think of this treatment like the fourth quarter of a crucial basketball game,” Dr. C would explain to me, using an analogy that immediately resonated with me. “It’s a crucial game, and the ball is in your hand. You’re not just playing to catch up; you’re playing to win. Every shot, every pass counts — just like every injection and every meal you take.”
His analogies struck a chord. Basketball was something I understood and enjoyed. It was the perfect frame through which the challenge of my treatment became a series of strategic plays I had to execute, not just a daily hurdle to dread. Dr. C’s office over the years would become a place of strategy discussions (like a timeout called by the coach), not just medical check-ups. We would talk game tactics and growth tactics with the same fervor.
Every six months, I would walk into his office with a bundle of nerves, wondering if I had done enough to push the needle of progress. But Dr. C had a gift. He could turn scary consultations into a pep talk without dismissing the gravity of the situation. “Let’s see if we can tweak the game plan,” he’d say, studying what percentile I was on in my latest growth charts. “You’re doing great, but let’s try to get more points (calories in my case) on the board this time.”
As I grew older, those six-month appointments would also evolve. Along with growth measurements, they would become more about life itself. Middle school and high school brought new challenges and achievements, and I would discuss with him stories of academic projects I had worked on or new hobbies I had found. Dr. C was always there, ready with another analogy, and another strategy to help me navigate the complexities of growing and growing up.
By the time the treatment concluded in 2021, I had not only caught up in height, but I had also grown in ways that charts couldn’t measure. The small doses of wisdom Dr. C administered over the years had instilled a resilience and perspective that shaped me profoundly. He turned an intimidating medical journey into a narrative of growth and success, much like a coach leading a player through a tough season. His blend of medical expertise and personal engagement was the game-changer, the kind of medicine that inspired me to pursue becoming a doctor.
Reflecting on this treatment journey, I realize that Dr. C’s approach exemplifies what is increasingly disappearing in today’s health care landscape: the human touch. In an era where efficiency often trumps patient interaction, the personal engagement and quality care Dr. C provided illustrates how vital these elements are to medicine and medical care. His approach showed that reading a patient goes beyond curing the condition or disease. It involves nurturing the individual, leaving a lasting impression that transcends the immediate ailment.
The health care system today stands at a crossroads, where the choice between quantity and quality can define the future of patient care. The role of medical professions, as I have come to understand it, is not only bridging the gap between suffering and healing, but ensuring the essence of health care remains rooted in its humanity. This story is more than a personal narrative. It is a call to all involved in health care to remember that despite new technologies and systems, the heart of healing lies in how deeply we care for each patient. Just like in a crucial fourth quarter, every moment and play counts, and the quality of care provided can make all the difference.
Image credit: Basketball (CC BY 2.0) by chillihead
Contributing Writer
University of Florida
Ansh Shah is an undergraduate student at the University of Florida in Gainesville, Florida, Class of 2027. When he is not playing sports or engaging in his community, he likes to read and gather knowledge surrounding a variety of topics. Ansh aspires to some day attend medical school and become a diagnostic radiologist.