How an injury gave me a new understanding of our patients’ perspective.
I thought 2022 would be a year filled with possibilities. I sold my practice to private equity on Dec. 30, started as chief medical editor for Ophthalmology Management on Jan. 1 and made a New Year’s resolution that 2022 would be my year of self-care. I was excited to focus on my work-life balance, get back into shape after a long COVID “winter” and catch up on all the medical appointments I had put off for so long.
The year started off well. In addition to riding my Peloton regularly and lifting weights, I had planned two amazing ski trips, which are my greatest joy — aside from my family, friends and ophthalmology, of course.
MY BAD BREAK
Fast forward to the AECOS symposium in Aspen in late February, which was a great meeting in a beautiful location for skiing. Before the trip, my husband warned me to take it easy and slow down, and reminded me that I’m not so young anymore.
Despite skiing less intensely than I have in the past, my knee started to hurt a little (if I’m honest, it hurt a lot) by the third day of the meeting. I hadn’t had a significant fall and diagnosed myself with a lateral collateral ligament sprain because it hurt when I shifted my weight on the outside of my leg or turned suddenly.
Logically, I took the next day off from skiing, but I returned on the fifth day. Heartbreakingly, I couldn’t even make it down one run. I called an orthopedic surgeon friend who yelled at me and told me to get off my leg, take a baby ASA and see him immediately when I got home.
Low and behold, I had a tibial plateau fracture and needed surgery. The doctor had become the patient.
I DON’T LIKE BEING A PATIENT
I’ve had minor injuries and elective surgeries, but I’d never really experienced an unplanned complete upheaval of my life and the life of my family. I have always been athletic and kept in good shape, and it never occurred to me that my body could possibly “fail” me. We are all strong, competent and invincible, right?
As it turns out, I have osteoporosis (Thanks, Mom!) but never had a DEXA scan. Why would I? I’m not a patient. I’m a doctor who takes care of patients.
I don’t like being a patient. I don’t like having people go out of their way to help me with simple things, keeping to a regimen so I can get better, filling prescriptions, seeing lots of doctors and having multiple appointments. When the doctor tells me to take two weeks off then ease back into my routine slowly, I nod agreeably but secretly know I will be back to work in one week. When the doctor tells me he is not sure whether I will be able to ski again, I nod agreeably and make a vow to prove him wrong.
WALKING IN OUR PATIENTS’ SHOES
Even after the break and surgery, I found it hard to give myself a minute to be the patient and heal. It made me realize what many of our patients feel when we give them a diagnosis and tell them what they should expect and what to do.
In some cases, we tell them we can treat their disease but not cure it. We hold them to a standard of complete compliance and are frustrated when they can’t keep up the regimen or fall behind on their follow-ups. Once the patient is gone, we move on to the next one and the first is forgotten. We are unaware that each of those encounters with a patient can have a tremendous impact on the person’s confidence, family, work and social life.
I still don’t like being a patient, but the upside of my experience is that I have a new understanding of what it feels like to be the patient, to receive news I don’t want to hear and to accept the change it will have on my life.
I am more determined than ever to take control of my health, make myself a priority every day and be grateful for each moment, knowing how quickly everything can change. OM