What a trip to the mechanic taught this Philly doctor about talking to patients
As a doctor, I know what’s serious, what’s not, and when to be concerned enough to do something. My patients rely on me to provide information they do not know.
“Is this something that I should be worried about?” I asked the mechanic at the dealership who was diagnosing the rattling and the drive-train warning sign in my car.
An issue with the spark plugs, I was told. They were working on it.
But I needed to get to work — by car or other means — so I pushed for more information: What’s a spark plug? How dangerous is it when they don’t work? And how long will it take to fix?
“Well, it’s not going to blow up on you, but it would also be smart not to ignore it,” the mechanic said. His tone suggested that this was a situation he dealt with often and that I shouldn’t make a big deal of it.
“If it’s really serious, we’ll let you know,” he said.
I returned to my seat in the waiting room, feeling frustrated and helpless. This was a subject I did not know much about. I didn’t have the experience to understand the issue and was completely relying on someone else.
At some point, we will all experience being on each side of such an interaction. I hope it makes us better at helping each other.
As I started looking up all the mechanic’s jargon, I started to feel a lot like my patients when they’re worried about a new symptom.
“My incision looks a little red. Is this normal?”
“I coughed up some mucus today. Am I OK?”
“My blood pressure is 100/60 this morning. Is that too low?”
Most of the time, these are benign findings that do not point to a more serious condition. In the past, I’ve been like the mechanic — unimpressed and perhaps a little annoyed. I have certainly felt that some of my patients were being unnecessarily anxious or hyper-vigilant.
» READ MORE: Life lessons from the operating room
But after my trip to the mechanic, I realize that’s because I know what’s serious and what’s not, and when to be concerned enough to take action.
My years of medical training and experience as a doctor have taught me how to recognize when redness, mucus, or low blood pressure are no longer part of the routine recovery process.
My patients don’t have the benefit of this knowledge, which I now understand is why they worry. I, too, worried about the rattling noise in my car — a common, easily fixed problem to the mechanic. Instead of dismissing these fears as being unfounded or excessive, I now realize that it’s better to empower people with knowledge, so they can better mitigate their own fears.
At some point, we will all experience being on each side of such an interaction. I hope it makes us better at helping each other.
Jason Han is a cardiac surgery resident at a Philadelphia hospital and contributor to The Inquirer’s Health section.