I suddenly became very ill last night, developing a
fever of 102 degrees. I felt totally fatigued and could do little more than lie
on my bed with a blanket wrapped around me. The house was cold and dark, and my
parents were off dog-sledding at a resort a couple hours away. I can’t remember
a time when I felt so miserable.
Fortunately my sister arrived home shortly thereafter. She made me some toast
along with a hot cup of milk. Sitting beside me, she worked away on her laptop
while we talked and joked. It felt so good just to have another person there,
and in talking to her, I felt myself forgetting about my own sorry condition.
At the same time, I couldn’t help but wonder how so many
patients in the hospital are able to endure weeks or sometimes even months of
being bed-ridden. Often times they are so old that they've outlived most of
their friends, or they just don’t have any direct family members. And so they
lie in the sterile confines of their hospital room while their bodies fail them.
Sometimes they cry out in the night for their mother or father, who are long dead. For most of the day, their only company is the nurse on staff.
Last semester, I was fortunate enough to be supervised in the hospital by Dr. Oczkowski, a young internal medicine resident. The
doctor, or “Simon” as we called him, had a real gift with patients. He could
walk into a hospital room with a very ill patient and make a connection within
moments. He’d ask them how they were doing, explain their condition in a way that made sense to them, and joke around a bit. With a natural sense of humour, his patients inevitably felt cheered up by the end of his visit.
Simon also had an incredible grasp of medical knowledge, but I think his true gift was in genuinely caring. For the brief duration of his visit, he'd make it seem like his patient was the only person in the world. I think that the sick and dying cross a point in their illness when simple compassion and connection with another human being matter far more than any medicine or procedure.
Interestingly, Simon and I have led parallel lives in many
ways. We both grew up in Hamilton, both went to the “Arts &
Sciences” program at McMaster, both went on the Student International Health
Initiative trip to India, and both went to McMaster’s medical school. I can
only hope that I'll be even half as good a doctor as he is.
Simon sounds like a very good role model and probably mentor. I believe it is important, perhaps an essential component of successful medical education, for students to have a mentor - a guide, adviser, friend - upon whom they can rely for guidance, advice and friendship. I don't know whether you have a mentorship system at McM; I was an informal mentor to one or more students each year from the beginning of my time at Ottawa U, and became coordinator of our official mentor program from its inception until I retired. As far as feasible, I believe it is better for students to select their own mentor rather than to be allocated a mentor by "the system" - it's the friendship element in the relationship that makes this so desirable. Don't be afraid to ask if you feel that one of your teachers could become your mentor. Some of my lifelong friendships with (former) students began this way.
ReplyDeleteAww, Raman that was so sweet to mention your sister. I am glad she was there for you.
ReplyDeleteYou mentioned the part about being bed-ridden and staying in the hospital... it is difficult, unfortunately my dad is suffering through that.. he craves company as he is a very social person... so I totally understand.
Hope you are feeling better. =)