Sail in High Winds.

“In order to move on, you must understand why you felt what you did

and why you no longer need to feel it.”

– Mitch Albom, The Five People You Meet in Heaven

 

They say it’s only a matter of time before it happens to you. If it hasn’t happened, then well, you either haven’t worked long enough as a doctor, or you took the solitary path. I know because of a few bad experiences, some friends chose to become pathologists, radiologists, or anaesthetists. They are all intense jobs, but avoid what could probably be the most challenging part of doctoring- managing people.

The past two months of work was disconcerting. Amidst the highest number of grateful handshakes, heartfelt thank-yous and exuberant half-hugs from patients and their relatives I had ever had in my life, including a patient’s son who had been waiting for 3 hours to see me at the Emergency department and used the waiting time to buy me lunch, I received two complaint letters, from a patient and a group of nurses, within a short span of two months. If the opinions of people were the yardstick for which I based my value on, I would be a very confused person today, to say the least.

A friend working at another hospital texted me two days ago. In a tense and highly emotionally charged situation, she was nearly hit by a patient’s relative. A few weeks ago, an angry patient had made a pregnant nurse at our clinic cry. Such incidents are not uncommon in our line.

After receiving the complaints, I was greatly perturbed and cried for days after.

Nonetheless, it was the second complaint which hurt me the most. The first barely did, as knowing that I had tried my best for the patient, making more than 10 phonecalls to sort out the complex case and staying back with a dedicated group of nurses till 10pm on a Friday night, only to have the patient change her mind and request to go home instead, I had a clear conscience and merely explained myself to my senior. The second one, however, gave me opportunity for reflection. Guilt, disappointment and discouragement soaked my skin for days. Regret clouded my countenance and made me doubt myself. It made me realize the stark truth that, though doctors are human, more is expected of us. I learnt the hard way, that doctoring is a higher calling than I thought it was. I had to set the bar higher for myself.

My boat rocked about a tumultuous sea the next few days. I was saddened that a particular group of nurses had lodged a litany of complaints against me after being with them for three days. I was guilty. Those three days in an overcrowded tiny room were treacherous. Bearing the physical, emotional and mental discomfort of that time of the month, dealing with a flood of angry patients and being constantly interrupted by nurses during consults proved to be challenging. It wore my patience thin. It didn’t help being in a small room with loud, garrulous nurses and dealing with a headache about to breakthrough into a migraine. The complaint was that for those 3 days, my tone towards them was not right. Period.

It didn’t matter if I was physically unwell for those 3 days. It didn’t matter if I had tried my best. It didn’t matter if I was feeling burnt out or not because I had been given more than my portion to that particular clinic. And of course, it didn’t matter if I was a consistently good physician before. I learnt, from this experience, that Professionalism is what it is. Even a rough patch of three days makes for Inconsistency.

An awful feeling bred in my heart for those three days, knowing that I could have done better. Knowing that my patients and nurses had suffered the brunt of my monotonous voice and frowny countenance, I bought them all a treat and wrote a note for them at the end of the week to thank them. The hardest part was, I found out that evening, that the litany of complaints against me- my tone, my unsmiling-ness, had been lodged two days ago. After those rocky three days had ended, I was back to my usual self. But it was too late.

I learnt, that we must set the bar higher. I learnt, that while our loved ones will always comfort us and love us and remind us we are only human andremind us of all the other times we went the extra mile for others, there is a higher standard we can work towards. I learnt, that no matter what the circumstance, we must free ourselves of the hope that the sea will ever rest. There is no option to sink. We must learn to sail in high winds.

A smooth sea never made a skilful sailor.

I learnt many things from this experience. One, that every day, we are working with people from a spectrum of backgrounds, cultures and experiences. While in rank, other healthcare professionals may be seen as being “lower” than a doctor, most of them are older in terms of working experience in that particular department or field. We, new doctors, are seen as junior, and fresh. Many of our allied health professionals are parents, grandparents, even. Many of them areexcellent at what they do. Many of them save us from mistakes.

Two, I learnt not to bring resentment to work. Professionalism is not only about doing your work well, but about treating people right, no matter how hot and bothered you are by your circumstance, environment or situation for that matter. Greatly discouraged by being portioned a  greater share of laborious and apparently more “menial” duties, I hate to admit that a part of me was bitter, for being consistently the one to cover colleagues for apparently more laborious duties, and for being apportioned unfairly to this very chaotic clinic. But I learnt, that while stress levels can mount, while patients can be shouting at your clinic door and while a ruckus could break out, you must never bring your dark clouds to work. Your patients or nurses don’t deserve the brunt of our subjectively-felt injustice. At the end of the day, I learnt that justice comes from God. Through this event, my senior saw how a greater portion of this job had been apportioned to me compared to my colleagues, and agreed to free me to other clinics.

Three, I learnt about forgiveness and humility. After hearing what had happened, many colleagues told me to brush this incident aside. “Why bother? They are –just- nurses.” They said. In the midst of my feelings of hurt, betrayal and confusion, I wanted to agree with them. Just nurses. Why bother. But it hardened my heart. A part of me rose up to say no, I was wrong. I can rise up to a higher level. They are not –just- nurses. They are human beings with families and lives and they are good at what they do. I needed to understand why I felt what I felt in those times of stress (exasperation, resentment, anger) and realize why I no longer needed to feel them. I needed to understand why I felt betrayed by them and realize why it was no longer necessary. I needed to understand why I felt so upset and realize I needed to let go. Nobody is -just- a person. Every one is a person made in God’s image. Nobody is -just- somebody.

The hard truth is that, when a conflict arises and the doctor is in question, everybody will acknowledge the tense situation, everybody will acknowledge the feelings of the patient, the patient’s family, nurses, allied health staff etc… But the doctor is expected to do what is right and just, no matter what he is feeling. He is expected to behave uprightly, in a way that is becoming and true. He must be calm, measured and professional at all times.

This is the higher standard. This is the bar to be set. In my first two months of being a fully registered doctor, I learnt the harder way, that there is a higher sail to set in high winds. There is much I can repent of. There is much I can let go. There is much I can learn. I am not perfect but I can aspire to be better. I can ask God for help. I can ask Him for Grace.

Back to that clinic on Monday.