The doctor is always in
An interaction in a busy pharmacy that threatened to go off the rails is brought back on track with some compassionate communication.
It’s reassuring to have a doctor around when an unexpected medical emergency occurs.
“Is there a doctor in the house?” is the infamous call when someone has chest pain on an aircraft, falls in the grocery store, faints in the theater, or experiences any sudden physical ailment or mishap. Recently, a physician colleague shared a story that illustrated the value of a foundational doctoring skill — empathetic communication — even in a situation that wouldn’t ordinarily call for a doctor’s expertise.
My colleague was in a crowded pharmacy, and a number of customers were growing irritated by the slow progress at the photo station. A part required replacement, which slowed the processing of print orders. When one customer approached the store manager to air his frustration, the manager appeared to ignore him. Then the manager abruptly turned to the customer and shouted, “You can leave my store!”
By now, lines were also getting longer at another checkout area, since the manager was too preoccupied with the photo problem to address the cashier’s issue. When he finally made it over, a customer expressed his frustration that so few checkout lanes were open.
“You can leave my store!” the manager responded.
My friend is a seasoned medical specialist who had been in line for a half hour himself. He observed the commotion and the manager’s dismissive retorts.
He decided to approach the manager, but with a different opener. “You seem to be having a really awful day.”
The manager looked up in surprise and replied, “You’re right. It’s been a horrendous day.”
“You know,” my friend whispered with a half smile, “if you keep telling everyone to leave your store, that might not be so great for business.”
They both chuckled a bit, and the tension in the room eased. The manager continued moving from task to task without much enthusiasm but my friend did not hear him invite anyone else to “leave my store.”
Compassionate communication is not unique to medicine, but it is the skill that I consider most essential to ensuring that patients leave feeling relieved and reassured after a doctor’s visit.
In the pharmacy, my friend never identified himself as a doctor, nor was he recognized as one. He didn’t need to. At the time, doctoring was not on his mind.
As I listened to his story, it was clear that his ability to notice someone’s distress and convey empathy is now so professionally innate as to be just part of the way he exists in the world.
Like the store manager, many of us may have been helped by a doctor in a nonclinical setting without realizing it. It’s nice to know those interpersonal skills don’t shut down at the conclusion of office hours.
Jeffrey Millstein is an internist and regional medical director for Penn Primary and Specialty Care.