While typing a note at the nurses’ station, I overheard 2 surgery residents discussing a consult.
Chief: “I think we can do the procedure. I’m just not understanding the indication.”
Intern: “The primary team seems pretty adamant.”
*sigh*
2/ Oh. Did I mention? The primary team was me. I decided to earhustle a little longer.
Chief: “I get that they want it. And that we can do it. But . . . just seems like more could be done first.”
Intern: “More like what?”
Chief: “I don’t know. Medical management.”
I coughed.
3/ I was about to say something but before I could, that Chief was on the phone with the attending surgeon.
Chief: “This patient is a . . . “
And they explained the story and reviewed the findings. After a few moments of silence, a decision seemed to be made.
OR in 2 days.
4/ Chief: “Ummm. . . Do you mind if I mention something?”
What followed was that same concern. Criticizing us nudging this patient’s management toward this invasive procedure which, yes, they could do.
But that maybe wasn’t the next best step.
5/ The final plan? Patient would tentatively be put on the schedule. But they’d talk to the primary team more about their concerns.
The same primary team that was listening to the entire exchange.
Mmm hmmm.
The chief hung up the phone and quietly typed a note.
6/ Intern: “Do you need me to contact the primary team?”
Chief: “I think we should.”
Just then I cleared my throat and they both glanced up.
Me: “I’m the primary attending, actually.”
*eyes widening*
Me: “Hey y’all.”
7/ The chief looked terribly embarrassed. What all had I heard?
Me: “Forgive me earhustling. But I heard your concerns . . .”
Chief: *blushing* “Uhhh. . .”
Me: “. . and I just wanted to say thank you for advocating for my patient.”
I could see the angst drain out.
8/ Intern: “I was going to call your resident.”
Me: “That won’t be necessary. I think y’all made some great points.”
Chief: *still looking embarrassed*
Me: “I’m sorry to make you uncomfortable. But honestly? You personified professionalism for your intern.”
It was true.
9/ Me: “You could’ve said a bunch of things. And you could’ve said them a bunch of ways. So thanks for the reminder you just gave me.”
And then we discussed their very valid concern which, after speaking further with my team, caused the procedure to be cancelled for now.
Yup.
10/ A good story teller would just leave it there. Let the story speak for itself.
And so I will.
But a good storyteller never misses a chance to remind you of another story if it’s relevant.
Me: "How're you feeling today?"
Him: "Well. I been better. That medicine y'all gave me made me run off!"
My team looked puzzled.
I did not.
Me: "Oh no! You talking 'bout the medicine we gave you for your gout flare up?"
Him: "Yeah! That one!"
2/ Him: "Shit, you coulda warned a brother."
Me: "Dang. I really should have. I'm sorry."
Him: "Yeah, if it wasn't for that bedside commode it woulda been a clean up on aisle 1!"
He laughed.
I was glad he was making light of it.
Me: "I apologize, sir. Colchicine can do that."
3/ Him: "It's cool. My knee is feeling a little bit better so that's good."
Me: "I'm glad. And again, I'm sorry for not giving the heads up."
Him: "I'm okay, doc."
I turned to my team.
Me: "'Running off' is diarrhea."
Them: "Ohhh."
Him: "Oh my bad, y'all."
1/ Her: "Why haven't you left for L.A. yet?"
Me: "Huh? Oh. Yeah. I'm pretty much almost done. It's okay."
*silence*
Her: "But, like is it?"
Me: *sighs* "Me rushing there won't change anything."
Her: "Depends on who you ask."
And after that, we both went back to charting.
2/ I was on the hospital service last April when I got the news. Dad had this sudden onset of disabling vertigo. We'd learn it was a cerebellar stroke. My sister was there in LA. At the bedside and wringing her hands as next-of-kin.
So she kept me posted.
And I kept rounding.
3/ On that first day, I walked right in and told my team.
Me: "My dad has been admitted to the hospital. It seems that he's had a cerebellar stroke."
And I said it in that "but I'm fine" voice. Because at that time that's what I was telling myself.
1/ Me: “I’m glad to see you.”
You: “You know what? I’m glad to see you, too.”
*silence*
Me: “You know how you’re loved, don’t you?”
You: *smiling gently* “I do. I think that’s what makes this so hard, you know? Can’t feel a loss like that without feeling a love like that.”
2/ We both let out big exhalations. After a few beats, you swung your head in my direction.
You: “How are you?”
Me: “Me?”
You: “Yeah. You.”
Me: “I’m fine. I just wish... um… you didn’t have to feel what you’re feeling.”
You reached out for my forearm. And then sighed again.
3/ You: “Yeah. But I’ll be okay. We were soul-connected. That will comfort me.”
I nodded. Then we sat in silence.
You: “But for real—how are you? Like with all this cool stuff you’ve been doing.”
Me: *puzzled look*
You: “It has to make you miss your dad and your sister.”
1/ I just finished this beautiful, courageous, and searing memoir “I Can’t Save You” by @CQ__MD. It was . . . in a word. . . sublime.
Whew.
And full disclosure—as his former med school advisor & friend—I love Dr. CQ.
But.
I also love books and honesty.
And he knows that.
2/ @CQ__MD will be the first to tell you that I won’t endorse anything—even a book my my beloved little bro CQ—unless I’d read it myself and believed others should, too.
And now I have.
And wholeheartedly I do.
But before you jump in—and you should—let me say this. . .
3/ There are some parts that explore depression, thoughts of suicide, and self-harm. No, not recklessly. But yes, with raw honesty. So you need to know that up front.
He does NOT play it safe around his lived experiences as a Black man in the ivory tower.
1/ I had imagined what this day would be like. Played it out in my head and saw various iterations of me exploding in celebration.
In some versions, I was doing the running man or, quite literally, running in triumphant circles, #MatchDay envelope in hand.
"Wooo hooo!"
2/ I also saw these visions of me quietly weeping, one hand extended to the heavens in gratitude. My lips quietly murmuring prayers of thanksgiving.
See, I was my ancestors' wildest dreams. And not even just my enslaved ancestors but the Jim Crow survivors who raised me, too.
3/ So, yeah. This was about to be big.
I was even on the #MatchDay party committee. And since we were broke, that meant soliciting donations from faculty & parents & anybody who felt proud enough of us to shell out a few coins.