Oh, but I would never do that. Or so we think.
The past 3 weeks in General Surgery have been a whirlwind. In the trauma team, the patient list is heavy, the stories, tragic, the seniors, heralded as fearsome creatures to behold. Road traffic accidents, jump from heights, industrial oven explosions, cancer… are just some of the stories we see on a day-to-day basis. We leave home before dawn, trudging through the day with gusto and might, only to reach home completely exhausted. There is rarely a quiet moment.
But I have been most blessed. In spite of the terrible, terrible things people have warned me about regarding working in this team, I have, by God’s grace, received favor and mercy and have thoroughly enjoyed my time in the past three weeks. Although it is true, that the initial two weeks were most challenging, and I felt I was walking on eggshells every day.
And it was all good, save for one incident. I remember that day when I received the phonecall. I thought, it must be a mistake. Surely it was someone else. Another Dr. Tan. But it wasn’t. It was me. It was my first early day off work and I had reached the train station next to the hospital when I received the phonecall, “Please come back now to explain yourself. We are recalling all those whose names have been mentioned.”
Someone had apparently lodged a complaint against me, among others, and it had gone all the way up to the higher authorities. Bewildered, I found myself in a room of other young doctors like myself, who had allegations against them too. I felt criminalized. When we discovered the one-liner comments penned beneath our scribed names, we felt unjustified. Anger, discouragement and disappointment were just some of the feelings felt. Above all, we felt misunderstood. We each explained ourselves to the Higher Authority even though I felt it was almost in vain. Our names had been picked out for what seemed to be minor things, and they were taken out of context, too. Although we were given the opportunity to clarify things, we all felt we had been labelled as guilty till proven otherwise.
Because of the nature of the complaint, I knew exactly who had lodged it against me. It was a new nurse. In my opinion, the nurse had shirked his responsibility by not carrying out instructions given to him specifically and in my correction, must have had taken offense, even though I had taken the extra step to tell him not to feel bad about it. I remember feeling appalled at his nonchalant attitude but I held my anger inside, trying to explain to him calmly what should have been done. Retrospectively, I wonder if it had been his fear of being complained against that made him make the first move. It seemed ludicrous to me, but it wasn’t so funny anymore to be sitting in the hot seat facing questioning and one’s character in doubt. I, among the other prosecuted, was asked to write a report.
I left the room in tears. I doubted myself. If I had been Jesus to everyone, surely this would not have happened, I thought. The next day, I went about work with a heavy heart. I had always taken pride in treating nurses well. I remember the many nurses from various wards whom I had made friends with, the many individual nurses whom I had lunched with or bought lunch for, those who had made drinks and given me food during my long shifts at work… And I doubted myself. Had I changed? Was I awful now? On the third day, however, anger arose in me. Unjustified and discouraged, I was angry that my time had been wasted and my reputation, blemished. One or two nurse friends whom I could confide in were horrified with his irresponsibility and assured me I need not apologize, lest he thought he was right. My self-righteous thoughts went on and on in my head: It was not fair. I was maligned. It was his mistake- my patient’s well-being was at stake. Turning the tables around, I know that had I been the one who made the complaint, he would have got into serious, serious trouble. My anger swallowed me up.
I finally released the bitterness and scorn, but not after days of pensive reflection.
No matter what, I told myself, surely there was something to be learnt from this. Save for the cynical truths that life isn’t always fair, surely there was something to be gleaned.
Was my tone right? Did I belittle him? Had I been at some point wrong?
“My brothers and sisters, believers in our glorious God must not show favoritism. Suppose a man comes into your meeting wearing a gold ring and fine clothes, and a poor man in filthy old clothes also comes in. If you show special attention to the man wearing fine clothes and say, “Here’s a good seat for you,” but say to the poor man, “You stand there” or “Sit on the floor by my feet,” have you not discriminated among yourselves and become judges with evil thoughts?”- James 2
It was when this passage came to mind that I realized this incident really wasn’t about who was right or wrong. And as much as I want to sound benevolent and self-righteous, I know this struggle was not merely about an altruistic concern for patient safety. I saw that elderly patient involved in that incident in a wheelchair and his elderly wife going home today, with them shaking my hand profusely and thanking me, saying in mandarin, “We have an appointment to do the surgery in 3 weeks time. Thank you so much, doctor.”
This lesson was about favoritism. Do I treat every nurse, every patient, every individual I meet with the same respect, honour and dignity that I do to the seniors I fear so much? Is my tone a little more controlled, my back a little more bent, my mannerisms a little more reserved when I talk to people “above” me? If they are, then I show favoritism.
Favoritism. It is something God despises us to do.
” Listen, my dear brothers and sisters: Has not God chosen those who are poor in the eyes of the world to be rich in faith and to inherit the kingdom he promised those who love him? But you have dishonored the poor. Is it not the rich who are exploiting you? Are they not the ones who are dragging you into court? Are they not the ones who are blaspheming the noble name of him to whom you belong?”
I had heard, that some of the nurses had been so tired of being rudely treated by previous batches of doctors that they took this opportunity to lodge complaints. I happened to be new, and one of the unfortunate scapegoats. I wondered, would they have felt that way if we had treated them as reverently as we did people we fear, people whom we know grade our performance and possibly determine our futures and paychecks? And didn’t God say something about us treating every individual as we would Him?
I thought about all my self-justifying thoughts. But the nurses in X ward love me, the nurses in Y ward say such nice things about me, I have so many nursing friends et cetera, et cetera… How can my character and personality be put in question after all the good that I’ve done…? And then I realized that I was completely missing the point. Because, as a good friend put it, “A drop of ink makes the whole glass of water turn black, Jia.”
” If you really keep the royal law found in Scripture, “Love your neighbor as yourself,” you are doing right. But if you show favoritism, you sin and are convicted by the law as lawbreakers. For whoever keeps the whole law and yet stumbles at just one point is guilty of breaking all of it. For he who said, “You shall not commit adultery,” also said, “You shall not murder.” If you do not commit adultery but do commit murder, you have become a lawbreaker.”
All our righteousness, are as filthy rags.
Because of the demanding nature of our work, and the lack of understanding between certain nurses and doctors, some professional relations have been strained over the years. I can understand that this is a symptom of something deeper, and the Higher Authorities are hoping to use this positively to improve communication between the various healthcare professionals. I have been disappointed by nurses before, but the incidents are few and far between, and no matter how angry I am, I try never to entertain the thought of complaining against them. It is their livelihood. I have met so many outstanding ones as well.
Speak and act as those who are going to be judged by the law that gives freedom, because judgment without mercy will be shown to anyone who has not been merciful. Mercy triumphs over judgment.
It hit me hard. I learnt, that this lesson wasn’t about who being right or wrong. It wasn’t about how many percent of the time I was a good person. It was about my heart attitude. Do I treat every single person with the same reverence as I do to God. Do I treat every single person, whether it was my fearsome boss whose toes I fear so much stepping on and whose jokes I laugh at nervously, or the nurse who doesn’t follow my instructions, with the same kind of humility, compassion and love?
The answer is no.
“For whoever keeps the whole law and yet stumbles at just one point is guilty of breaking all of it.”- James 2
So I am learning, to let this go, and to take something good away from this. I read this, and want to remember how important it is to treat the dying, the rich, the poor, those who have the power to grade us or not, those who have influence over our futures or not… all the same.
Because it’s not about how much right we’ve done. But about realizing, how much God has done for us in spite of all we’ve not done.