1/ I was rounding with my team recently and you were our new patient. A student had presented your case at the bedside. You listened intently and offered corrections where needed. After examining you, I paused and twisted my mouth under my mask.
I narrowed my eyes.
2/ This didn’t make sense to me. And to be clear— it may very well have made sense to someone else.
Just not me.
You: “You alright over there, doc? Look like your wheels turning hard.”
*laughter*
Me: “You got me. Yeah, I’m just trying to put this all together.”
Hmmm.
3/
Like, your physical exam fit the story. And part of your lab tests and imaging aligned with the leading diagnosis. But then there was this other part of your blood work that threw a curveball.
Hmmm.
And so. I told you and my team exactly that.
Yup.
4/ Me: “Sometimes patients come in and we know exactly what’s going on. The story, exam, labs, and all of it point to an answer. But a lot of times, there are parts we need to go look up or talk to other colleagues about. I think that’s where I am right now.”
*silence*
5/ You: “What part is throwing you off?”
Me: “Honestly? It’s a few things.”
And you listened as I told you about my illness script & how you had stuff that didn’t fit it. Then I walked through my diagnostic schema & badly wished I had @rabihmgeha in my pocket.
Alas, I did not.
6/ Me: “So when I leave you, I’m gonna go and read some stuff. Because it might be that this fits what we thought but that I just have a gap in my knowledge where I didn’t know that part.”
I watched my team watching you. To see if you’d get nervous or upset.
You did not.
7/ You: “That’s what’s up.”
Me: “Huh?”
You: “I like that you thinking & you ain’t fronting like you know everything!”
*laughter*
You: “I’m for real! ‘Cause then you focused more on YOU than ME out here trying to flex.”
That made us all laugh again. But you weren’t joking.
8/ The student chimed in and said they’d searched the question already and didn’t find much.
Me: “Okay. I’m gonna check a couple more things. But in the meantime, let’s go ahead and call that consult.”
The student nodded.
You: “What’s that mean?”
9/ Me: “It’s when we call in experts who focus on this part of the body all day every day.”
You: “Yeah, call ‘em. They might roll up and say, ‘Oh yeeeeeeah. This is so-and-so.’”
Me: “Real talk though? You right.”
*laughter*
And that was pretty much where we left it.
10/ I read over lunch & learned some stuff. And then our colleagues came in, looked at you, and said:
“Oh yeeeeeah. This is so-and-so.”
Ha.
But that was fine because they had seen a lot more cases of so-and-so than me. So that, plus their recommendations, helped a lot.
Yup.
11/ It’s the start of a new academic year. Which means new residents and new fellows and new attendings. And some of the best advice I have to give is to have the courage to admit to uncertainty.
Because it’s not patient-centered to front like you know everything.
Nope.
12/ Also.
Since the #hiddencurriculum is alive & well, explicitly normalizing being unsure is a teachable moment.
Wait.
Unsure—but urgently curious. At the same time.
It took me over 20 years to feel okay admitting to knowledge gaps —especially with patients.
Yup.
13/ But what I now know is that just like our patients want us to humanize them, that goes both ways. And no human knows everything.
The ICU fell silent. A heavy cloak of sorrow pressed down on the room.
*whoosh*
The familiar rush of heat came to my face. Next came the prickling in my eyes. Once the tears started I knew they wouldn’t stop.
Shit.
I needed to get out of there.
2/ She was my patient. And out of deference I knew I should still myself and stand in the awful with the team.
But I needed to get out of there. Before I started to cry.
Because we don’t do that. Not here. Not in front of people.
At least, that’s what I’d been taught.
3/ See, when I was a med student on my OB rotation, I was assisting on an emergency delivery. When the baby was born, there was no pulse or spontaneous breaths.
All hell broke loose.
Thumbs compressing a tiny chest. Meds. Intubation and O2.
Him: “I got a bone to pick with you.”
Me: “Me?”
Him: “You.”
He pointed at me for emphasis.
Him: “I’m not so sure I like how you was talking ‘bout me.”
I sifted through my head to try to think of any verbal missteps. I waited to see what he’d say next.
2/ Him: “I know you said y’all was gon’ do some ‘shop talking’ about me. But look like you forgot I was even there when you got to saying what you was gon’ say.”
I felt my face grow warm. I decided to just keep listening.
Him: “You talking ‘bout some ‘That’s impressive!’”
3/ Wait. Was that the bad part?
My brow furrowed and I pressed my lips together. He went on.
Him: “But like, I knew from how you said it that you ain’t mean impressive in a good way. I mean, not how most things that impress a person impress ‘em.”
1/ I was sitting down doing some work in a quiet area at Grady one day and this little girl, who was with her grandma, walked right up to me and touched my stethoscope.
Her: “Are you a doctor?”
Me: “I sure am.”
Her: “For real?”
Me: “For real!”
I handed her my stethoscope.
2/ She slung it around her neck.
Her: “Is it fun being a doctor?”
Me: *squinting an eye* “Hmmm. You know what? It’s hard sometimes but, to me? It really is fun on most days.”
She seemed to like that answer. Now she was putting the ear tips into her ears. I helped adjust them.
3/ Her: “I can be a doctor, too.”
I loved her firm tone and the way she said it to me pwith full eye contact. This was a statement—not an aspiration.
Me: “You know what? I bet you can.”
She placed the diaphragm on her chest. Then her eyes widened.
1. If you are planning Grand Rounds or national/regional conferences, I’m suggesting #URiM people you should invite to speak.
2. This is a way to increase the number of professors from underrepresented & historically excluded backgrounds.
Mmm hmm.
2/ Because, for example, out of ~ 39K full professors in US med schools only ~ 300 are Black women. (Do that math—it’s <1%!🤬)
So while it’s cool to follow them here, I’m saying INVITE THEM and CITE THEM so that they can get promoted.
But wait—there’s more. . . .
3/ I explicitly say “with honorarium” because time is NOT a renewable resource. AND because while the “honor” is cool, when you don’t come from generational privilege, it’s even COOLER with an “arium” next to it.*
It was a Sunday. The students and interns had the day off so it was just the senior resident and me. This Grady elder was our last patient.
Yup.
Me: "What questions do you have for us?"
Her: "I don't have any questions. Y'all answered them. Thank you."
2/ Me: "Okay. Is there anything else you need before we go?"
Her: "May I have one minute of your time?"
Us: *looking at each other*
Resident: "Sure. Tell us what you need."
She extended both of her hands out toward us, gesturing for each of us to take one of them.
We did.
3/ She held our gaze and then spoke.
Her: "I'd like to pray for y’all. Is that okay?"
Shoot.
My breath hitched. I didn't want my resident to feel pressured or uncomfortable.
Shoot.
Had I been alone? This would’ve been a no brainer. But I was not.
1/ Random moment while in line in the Grady coffee shop:
Her: "I remember you. You that lady that said I need to lose weight and get a better fitting bra when I said my back hurt."
Me: "I remember you, too. You changed your hair. It looks nice."
2/ Her: "It's a wig.”
Me: *shrugs* “I still like it on you.”
She folded her arms and sucked her teeth.
Her: “I didn't like you at all."
Me: “No?”
Her: “No!”
Me: "I can respect that choice. How's your back?"
Her: "Respect what choice? A wig or me not liking you?"
Me: "Both."
3/ Her: "My back is a lot better."
Me: "Oh yeah? What did the trick?"
Her: "I lost some weight. And got a different bra."
*laughter*
After that, she reached out and gave me a big hug. And I hugged her right back. Hard.