A Life in Medicine
Page 34
“But you were always a good man of business, Jacob [Marley],” faltered Scrooge, who now began to apply this to himself.
“Business!” cried the ghost, wringing its hands again. “Mankind was my business. The common welfare was my business; charity, mercy, forbearance, and benevolence were, all, my business. The dealings of my trade were but a drop of water in the comprehensive ocean of my business!”3
I reaffirm that relationships are the bedrock of medical practice. We are not risk managers or information brokers, entrepreneurs or bureaucrats. We are nobody’s agent except the sickly who entrust us with their care. Our actions are not unerring, never easy. Thus the well-intentioned physician needs a moral compass, a sense of solid footing, and the stamina to carry on. These are the fruits of living in community.
A decade ago, Pellegrino challenged the New York Medical Society with his vision of medicine as a moral community.4 Sadly, who can agree? No centripetal force draws us together as one body. Real communities are centered on service to others, not pecuniary zeal. They do not fence their membership or boundaries but promote a sense of common cause. Time is needed, unbillable time, time enough for conversation or coming to an understanding. More time than is required for a procedure and its recovery, a clinical clerkship, or a granting cycle. What endures is loyalty and trust, such as you find in lasting friendships.
The purpose of community (because, in an affluent age, we no longer need it for physical survival) is to remind us who we are. This message is refreshed every Saturday morning at public market, along the Fourth of July parade route, at yard sales, benefit suppers, community plays, and YMCA runs. Today’s archenemy is tomorrow’s teammate, our auto mechanic, my daughter’s dentist, or the crucial vote in an upcoming election. However difficult it might be to shed the role of “doctor” when I leave the office, my work is blessed by the roles I bring back: husband, father, runner, gardener, singer, churchgoer. They nourish and enlarge me: they ensure access to honest advice, gentle reproves, words that can mend and mold me.
It is a shame, really, that doctors spend so little time in the communities where they practice. If we did, we might come to see our patients from a different angle, as real people on equal terms, capable of returning more than they receive. With greater depth of field, we might more easily grasp their worries and woes, and recognize our failure to help them. We might be fed by their gratitude, motivated by friendship instead of their demands or our sense of sacred duty or the lure of the almighty dollar. Perhaps our panel of patients, and those who assist us in their care, are the communities we seek.
Fourteen years have passed. I cope more easily now with the small but niggling regrets of the daily grind, surrendering these and their moral burden to my Thursday morning meeting of partners. Here, for an hour each week, we air our dirty laundry, search our foibles, sift through soured interactions and missed opportunities that would otherwise fall through the cracks. Following Dr. Williams’s suggestion, we exchange “heart-to-heart stories,” knowing that “the more open we are about what gets our moods going and how those moods affect our work, the more likely we are to catch hold of ourselves—in the nick of time.”5
Within a few short years, I have learned to walk on two empiric legs. First is the knowledge that doctors rise to their best by serving the least of their patients—the least insured, the least curable, the least attractive, responsible, or grateful. The least like us. Second is my belief that personal and clinical contributions to the patient’s well-being are an indivisible act—fused in their timing, their import, and the totality of patients’ expectations.
Virtue is about the everyday responsibility of living in community. It is not the province of heroes and saints, whom we idolize and elevate and leave holding the bag. We must overcome fear and false modesty in order to reclaim virtue and in the process a fuller sense of ourselves.
If there are any heroes or saints left in the world, they are each of us at our best, responding to the worst that the world imposes. Like a photo mosaic, our lives create the ethereal outline of virtue. But it is in the individual faces, or parts thereof, that virtue becomes most worthy of emulation.
Mr. M. and I did not undo the past. We stumble forward as best we can, two lives mingled by fate and pulled on providential leash. Happily, I didn’t botch my second chance. I realize now that its very possibility depended on living in a community where the doctor’s fallibility and faithfulness are a matter of record. Yes, occasionally I’m a hero in the small town. But more importantly, I am moored to my patients’ predicament, their fleshed-in lives, and the unflinching fact that we are interchangeable. Commoners all. Located by the real things we live by.
NOTES
1 Smith H., Churchill L. Professional Ethics and Primary Care Medicine. Durham, NC: Duke University Press; 1986: 50.
2 Berger J., Mohr J. A Fortunate Man. New York, NY: Vintage International Edition; 1997: 105–106.
3 Dickens C. A Christmas Carol. Boston, Mass: Atlantic Monthly Press.
4 Pellegrino, ed. The medical profession as a moral community. Bull NY Ac Med. 1990; 66: 221–232.
5 Coles R. The Call of Stories. Boston, Mass: Houghton Mifflin; 1989: 117–118.
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“Outpatient” by Rosalind Warren, from Vital Lines, edited by Jon Mukand. © 1990. Used by permission of St. Martin’s Press.
Excerpt from “First Sermon on Reverence for Life,” from A Place for Revelation, by Albert Schweitzer, translated by David Larrimore Holland. Copyright © 1989 by Macmillan Publishing Company. Used by permission of Simon & Schuster, Inc.
“Like a Prayer,” from The Poetry of Healing: A Doctor’s Education in Empathy, Identity, and Desire, by Raphael Campo. Copyright © 1997 by Raphael Campo. Used by permission of W. W. Norton & Company, Inc., and Georges Borchardt, Inc., for the author.
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“Episode of Hands,” from Complete Poems of Hart Crane, edited by Marc Simon. Copyright © 1933, 1958, 1966, by Liveright Publishing Corporation. Copyright © 1986 by Marc Simon. Used by permission of Liveright Publishing Corporation.
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“Anyuta,” from The Lady with the Dog and Other Stories, by Anton Chekov, translated by Constance Garnett (New York: Macmillan, 1917).
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“The Seductive Beauty of Physiology,” by Jeffrey R. Botkin, from The Journal of Clinical Ethics, vol. 3, no. 4 (Winter 1992), pp. 274-277.
“People Like That Are the Only People Here,” from Birds of America by Lorrie Moore. Copyright © 1998 by Lorrie Moore. Used by permission of Alfred A. Knopf, a division of Random House, Inc. and Faber Ltd.
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“Antistrophes” and “Tenth Elegy,” from The Selected Poetry of Ranier Maria Rilke, translated by Stephen Mitchell. Copyright © 1982 by Stephen Mitchell. Used by permission of Random House, Inc.
Scene III from The Elephant Man by Bernard Pomerance. Copyright © 1979 by Bernard Pomerance. Used by permission of Grove/Atlantic, Inc. and Faber and Faber Ltd.
“Leech, Leech, Et Cetera,” from The Youngest Science: Notes of a Medicine Watcher, by Lewis Thomas. Copyright © 1983 by Lewis Thomas. Used by permission of Viking Penguin, a division of Penguin Putnam, Inc.
“Baptism by Rotation,” from A Country Doctor’s Notebook, by Mikhail Bulgakov, published by the Harvill Press. English translation © Michael Glenny, 1975. Used by permission of the Harvill Press.
“Who Owns the Libretto?” by Judy Schaefer, from Between the Heartbeats: Poetry and Prose by Nurses, edited by Cortney Davis and Judy Schaefer. Copyright © 1995. Used by permission of the University of Iowa Press.
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“What the Doctor Said,” from A New Path to the Waterfall, by Raymond Carver. Copyright © 1989 by the Estate of Raymond Carver. Used by permission of Grove/ Atlantic, Inc.
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“The Knee,” by Constance J. Meyd, from A Piece of My Mind: A Collection of Essays from the Journal of the American Medical Association, edited by Bruce B. Dan. Copyright © 1988 by the American Medical Association. Used by permission of Alfred A. Knopf, a division of Random House, Inc.
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“The Girl with the Pimply Face,” from The Collected Stories of William Carlos Williams. Copyright © 1938 by William Carlos Williams. Used by permission of New Directions Publishing Corp. and Carcanet Press Limited.
“Healers: The Physician and the Mori,” by Michael Weingarten, from Patients and Doctors, edited by Jeffrey M. Borkan. © 1999. Used by permission of The University of Wisconsin Press.
“Poverty Medicine,” from Not All of Us Are Saints, by David Hilfiker. Copyright © 1994 by David Hilfiker. Used by permission of Hill and Wang, a division of Farrar, Staus and Giroux, LLC.
“In Terror of Hospital Bills,” from Shall We Gather at the River, by James Wright. Copyright © 1968 by James Wright. Used by permission of Wesleyan University Press.
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b Hans Hefelmann, chief of the responsible Chancellery office, remembered that the child lacked three limbs and that its grandmother made the request. Brandt made the father the petitioner.
c Manon is the poet’s daughter.
d Gallup Indian Medical Center.
Compilation © 2002 by Robert Coles and Randy Testa
Introduction © 2002 by Robert Coles
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