Tuesday, June 15, 2010

Another Medical Missive

You may recall that last fall, I was prompted to write (but did not send) a letter to my internist. Instead, I posted it here.

Once again, I’ve been irritated enough to write a similar (and yet a different) letter, this time to one of my mother’s doctors. And once again, I’m unsure about whether or not to send it.

So, please do me a favor: read the letter yourself and let me know what you think by sending an email or leaving a comment at the bottom of this post. Thanks.
Dear Dr. It’s-All-About-the-Tumors,

I am writing to inform you that my mother, whom you treated in the hospital for most of this spring, passed away peacefully and in no pain over Memorial Day weekend after 11 days in hospice. For my father, my sister and me, the long weeks that led to this sad outcome were fraught with reminders of some of life’s most important lessons, a few of which we would like to share with you.

First and foremost, we were reminded that people are sacred beings, not merely collections of body parts, and certainly more than the tumors and lesions that indiscriminately assault the physical vessels in which their essence and spirit dwell.

We also were reminded that if they’re lucky, individuals have family members who are of paramount importance to them, particularly when the individuals are ill. As such, family members deserve honest, realistic, forthright, and regularly forthcoming assessments about their loved one’s illness, especially at critical junctures in the treatment process. Body language and facial expressions, neither of which is visible when communicating information over the phone, are essential elements in such conveyances.

We learned that nurses and social workers often are the best conduits of information from physicians. The legibility of physicians’ handwriting, therefore, is imperative, not only to ensure accurate transmission of details to families, but also (and perhaps most important) to guarantee that patient treatment and care are never, ever compromised.

Through the kind words and gestures of most but not all of my mother’s physicians and caregivers, we were reminded about the significance of dignity and respect for all people, but most especially for those whose lives are drawing to a close. We were reminded, too—most notably by their glaring absence in a few specific instances—about compassion and kindness, and how very important they are to those who are enduring the loss of a loved one.

Henceforth, we will carry these lessons in our hearts as a lasting tribute to my mother and her well lived life. It is our hope that you will do the same.

Sincerely,
JanetheWriter
OK, now that you've read it, don't forget to shoot me an email or leave a comment at the bottom of this post about whether or not I should actually send this letter to Dr. It’s-All-About-the-Tumors.

As always, thanks.

6 comments:

  1. Not only would I send the letter, but I would be much more specific about your issues with Dr. "Tumors"! Without vitriol or hyperbole, I would enumerate your dissatisfaction and suggestions for dealing with future patients and families.

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  2. I would send it with a CC to the chief of oncology (or whtaever department this dude is in, my medical degree is rusty:-) with a more detailed note about your dissatisfaction (as the previous commenter said). Don't let it go...could be a gift to some future family.

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  3. Often writing a note like this, and not even sending it, is very helpful. But in this case, I urge you to send it, make it more specific and cc it to the dep't chair and hospital president. It won't change what was but might change what might be...for the next person and his/her family...yet another legacy from your Mom! Well done!

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  4. Often writing a note like this, and not even sending it, is very helpful. But in this case, I urge you to send it, make it more specific and cc it to the dep't chair and hospital president. It won't change what was but might change what might be...for the next person and his/her family...yet another legacy from your Mom! Well done!

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  5. Well, I see why you call yourself JanetheWriter here and on URJ. You are quite a writer! You should definitely send that to the doctor. I suspect that such doctors with poor bedside manner are not actually unfeeling, but either must distance themselves from their compassion and emotions in order to be a level-headed physician, or have simply been dulled, desensitized, and worn down by many years of witnessing lives extinguished on their watch so that it is difficult for them to express compassion, though they may feel it. There is a retired surgeon in my family who is constantly haunted by compassion for the pain he witnessed, and he beats himself up over having put on a poker face and not showing emotion or compassion to the patients or families. For some reason, he just couldn't get it out, but it was there. If you send that letter, I think there's a good chance the doctor will feel terrible, but he or she may not let you be aware of that. Still, it could influence future behavior, and that's what I think you're trying to accomplish. Perhaps, though, with your uncommon eloquence, you will succeed in inspiring a heartfelt reply to your letter. Best of luck.

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  6. Jordan,

    Many thanks for reading my blog posts, both here and at RJ.org, and for your kind words about my writing.

    My father, my sister and I did, indeed, decide to send a slightly revised version of the letter, and it will go out in the mail early next week. Stay tuned here for new developments.

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