“Did you hear about the next patient?” the nurse asked me.
“Which one, the AAA repair?”
“Yeah. Apparently he’s a speed freak. He was smoking meth when his abdomen began to pulse, and he’s been in and out of here ever since…he can’t go for more than a few hours without jonesing for some meth, so he’s left Againt Medical Advice about a dozen times…it’s a miracle he’s come this far.”
“Why do we bother to do this? These belligerent assholes don’t even deserve it.”
:::::::
I know that we in healthcare are not supposed to judge, but it’s something I think we all do. It’s the exception to the rule that I meet someone who unquestioningly treats patients without passing some kind of judgment on them. In the ICU and ER environment in which I find myself, I have met almost nobody who does not judge their patients, and often unkindly.
In defense of judging, it’s a human trait. We judge our neighbors, the other patrons at the store, the people in the news. Everybody does it. People who judge me for being judgmental are themselves being judgmental.
That being said, we should strive in healthcare not to judge, because we just never know where these people come from…THAT being said, I’m probably one of the more judgmental people at my place of employment, though I am self-aware about it.
::::::::
An hour or so later, I received a page that my patient was inbound in five minutes. I went and readied the ventilator, and anesthesia wheeled out a tattooed, toothless, disheveled looking old man with a huge dressing on his abdomen. Anesthesia and I exchanged pleasantries and made some cruel jokes at the patient’s expense, and I began the process of working the man off the ventilator as he gradually woke up.
After a few hours, he was awake enough that I could extubate him based on our postoperative standing orders. I double-checked his parameters, drew an ABG, and extubated the man, expecting the typical postoperative drug addict: controlling, mean, grumpy, unpleasant. I tried to be cordial, but I was anxious to avoid having to deal with what a prick this guy inevitably would be.
I was wrong.
He was pleasant, courteous, polite. He was genial and funny. He made us all laugh, and he was a joy to work with, making an effort to help his recovery along. He was compliant and kind, and he was easily the nicest patient I’d cared for in months.
I felt bad for judging him. Addict? Yes. Sketchy character? Most definitely; most meth users are. But he was also polite and compliant, two traits lacking in the modern patient.
The lesson: sometimes, you really can’t judge a book by it’s cover. Perhaps in the future I should be a little less willing to bang the gavel.
“Did you hear about the next patient?” the nurse asked me.
“Which one, the AAA repair?”
“Yeah. Apparently he’s a speed freak. He was smoking meth when his abdomen began to pulse, and he’s been in and out of here ever since…he can’t go for more than a few hours without jonesing for some meth, so he’s left Againt Medical Advice about a dozen times…it’s a miracle he’s come this far.”
“Why do we bother to do this? These belligerent assholes don’t even deserve it.”
:::::::
I know that we in healthcare are not supposed to judge, but it’s something I think we all do. It’s the exception to the rule that I meet someone who unquestioningly treats patients without passing some kind of judgment on them. In the ICU and ER environment in which I find myself, I have met almost nobody who does not judge their patients, and often unkindly.
In defense of judging, it’s a human trait. We judge our neighbors, the other patrons at the store, the people in the news. Everybody does it. People who judge me for being judgmental are themselves being judgmental.
That being said, we should strive in healthcare not to judge, because we just never know where these people come from…THAT being said, I’m probably one of the more judgmental people at my place of employment, though I am self-aware about it.
::::::::
An hour or so later, I received a page that my patient was inbound in five minutes. I went and readied the ventilator, and anesthesia wheeled out a tattooed, toothless, disheveled looking old man with a huge dressing on his abdomen. Anesthesia and I exchanged pleasantries and made some cruel jokes at the patient’s expense, and I began the process of working the man off the ventilator as he gradually woke up.
After a few hours, he was awake enough that I could extubate him based on our postoperative standing orders. I double-checked his parameters, drew an ABG, and extubated the man, expecting the typical postoperative drug addict: controlling, mean, grumpy, unpleasant. I tried to be cordial, but I was anxious to avoid having to deal with what a prick this guy inevitably would be.
I was wrong.
He was pleasant, courteous, polite. He was genial and funny. He made us all laugh, and he was a joy to work with, making an effort to help his recovery along. He was compliant and kind, and he was easily the nicest patient I’d cared for in months.
I felt bad for judging him. Addict? Yes. Sketchy character? Most definitely; most meth users are. But he was also polite and compliant, two traits lacking in the modern patient.
The lesson: sometimes, you really can’t judge a book by it’s cover. Perhaps in the future I should be a little less willing to bang the gavel.