Remember the compelling 1991 film, The Doctor, starring William Hurt? It wasn’t just a movie with William Hurt and Mandy Patinkin; it was a poignant exploration of the doctor-patient relationship. If you’re unfamiliar with this William Hurt Doctor Movie, take a moment to find it on a streaming service – it’s a worthwhile watch. The Doctor centers around Jack McKee, portrayed by William Hurt, a surgeon who navigates his professional and personal life with a detached demeanor, often appearing brusque and even unkind to those around him, including his patients and family. His world shifts dramatically when he receives a cancer diagnosis, transitioning him from physician to patient.
When The Doctor was initially released, I was on my path to becoming a physician. The film resonated deeply, and I aspired to embody the transformed William Hurt, the doctor who emerged from his patient experience with renewed purpose and empathy. However, revisiting The Doctor recently, decades into my medical career, evoked a different response. I found myself identifying more with the initial portrayal of William Hurt – the emotionally distanced, almost cynical doctor. Thirty-two years, a medical degree, residency, and countless patient encounters have, it seems, tempered idealism with a degree of cynicism. This shift, I suspect, is not uncommon among healthcare professionals. The relentless demands of the profession – the long hours, the complexities of electronic health records, the financial pressures, and the ever-present challenge of patient interactions in the age of online health information – can erode even the most dedicated practitioner’s initial idealism.
How does this emotional detachment develop in those dedicated to patient care? And more importantly, how can healthcare professionals reconnect with the empathy that drew them to medicine in the first place?
One path to rediscovering empathy, as depicted in The Doctor, is to experience healthcare from the patient’s perspective. While not a path anyone would willingly choose, becoming a patient offers profound insights. Recently, I had the unexpected opportunity to walk in my patients’ shoes, gaining a perspective nearly as transformative as William Hurt’s character in The Doctor.
This past May, I underwent a kidney transplant, with my husband, David, as my living donor. This experience plunged us into the healthcare system in a way neither of us had anticipated, neither having previously faced major surgery. We became reliant on our adult children, our families, and our community in ways we hadn’t been in years. For me, it was a stark and illuminating lesson in what it means when the doctor becomes the patient. Despite receiving exceptional care in a specialized unit with a dedicated and cohesive medical team – truly a best-case scenario – and navigating the system with the advantage of my medical background, numerous gaps in the patient experience became glaringly obvious. While my current practice is solely outpatient, this personal journey has fundamentally reshaped my approach to patient care and communication.
These are the key lessons from my experience as a patient that I intend to carry forward throughout my career:
The Fog of the Unknown: Patient Comprehension in Healthcare
Even with my medical background and familiarity with the hospital where I was treated, the inner workings of the hospital were often opaque. The constant flow of staff, the seemingly random timing of lab draws and vital checks, created a sense of disorientation. Ordering meals, a seemingly simple task, became a source of frustration as I consistently received the “default tray,” leading to humorous suspicions of day-old leftovers. Coordinating conversations with my husband’s medical team and my own proved challenging due to mobility limitations and conflicting schedules. Questions that arose throughout the day often vanished from memory by the time the medical team made their rounds. I resorted to keeping a written list to ensure I received the necessary information. A seemingly minor issue, like obtaining a stool softener for my husband, became an hours-long ordeal due to his surgeon’s operating schedule, highlighting the systemic delays patients frequently encounter. In the meantime, our daughter, in a simple act of patient advocacy, purchased an over-the-counter solution from a local pharmacy.
Going forward, when a patient presents me with a list of questions, I will consciously resist the urge to feel impatient about the waiting room. Instead, I will prioritize ensuring that the patient in front of me leaves with the clearest and most comprehensive answers I can provide. Similarly, requests for prescription refills or over-the-counter medications, particularly those related to flexible spending accounts, will be addressed immediately rather than deferred. Crucially, I will proactively take every opportunity to set realistic patient expectations and provide thorough education about the processes involved in their care.
The Unspoken Burden: Patient Concerns About Healthcare Costs
While direct control over healthcare costs is largely outside my purview as an employed physician within a large healthcare organization, patients understandably look to their doctors for guidance. Dismissing cost concerns with a simple “I don’t know, contact billing” is insufficient. It is incumbent upon healthcare providers to offer whatever information we can and direct patients to specific resources for further clarification.
Furthermore, the complexities of the billing system are often bewildering to patients. The itemized bills from various entities – the hospital, surgeons, anesthesiologists, radiologists, labs, and pharmacies – are confusing and seemingly disconnected. Many patients also lack a clear understanding of their own insurance coverage. By demystifying the system and providing clear explanations of how to navigate it, we empower patients to access the information they need and advocate for themselves when necessary.
Beyond Guidelines: Validating Patient Experience and Pain
My husband’s discharge instructions, typical after his type of surgery, assured us that his pain would gradually subside and included a prescription for pain medication. However, as his pain intensified at home, he was uncertain whether it warranted readmission or how to initiate that process. Healthcare professionals can sometimes become frustrated with patients who return to the hospital, labeling them as “bounce backs.” However, it’s critical to remember the fear and uncertainty experienced by a non-medical person attempting to interpret their body’s signals at home. Improved patient education is part of the solution, but the most vital component is a compassionate healthcare professional who listens, validates their experience, and addresses their concerns with empathy.
The Vulnerable Patient: Advocacy in Action
Patients often interact with healthcare providers during moments of profound vulnerability, making self-advocacy challenging. I am committed to becoming a more proactive patient advocate, offering assistance with appointment scheduling for referrals, resolving prescription issues, and navigating the myriad administrative hurdles that patients encounter.
The Web of Dependence: Recognizing Patient Reliance
My husband and I were fortunate to be enveloped by the unwavering support of our families, our adult children, and our community. However, many patients lack such robust support systems. Even with a loving network, the experience of dependence was humbling. It underscored the immense challenges faced by patients who rely on caregivers, social workers, or distant relatives during vulnerable times. While healthcare professionals cannot single-handedly solve issues of social isolation, we can ensure clear communication with all involved in a patient’s care, provide explicit instructions, and approach patient dependence with compassion and understanding.
The Undercurrent of Fear: Acknowledging Patient Anxiety
Despite my lifelong awareness of my genetic kidney condition, my planned transplant, my compatible and willing donor, my medical knowledge of the procedure, and my faith, fear was a palpable presence throughout the process. Lying on the pre-operative bed, answering seemingly endless questions from the nurse, the initial prick of sedation – each moment was tinged with anxiety. Waking in the ICU, grappling with pain, grogginess, and the unfamiliar landscape of tubes and machines, fear was a constant companion. I can only imagine the amplified fear experienced by patients lacking medical knowledge and facing acute, unexpected medical crises. While I am not a surgeon, I recognize the myriad opportunities I have, even in outpatient care, to alleviate patient fears and offer genuine reassurance. These moments are not to be taken for granted or viewed as interruptions, but rather as privileged opportunities to connect with individuals seeking care and comfort.
I recognize that my experience, while impactful, is not equivalent to the extreme burnout depicted in William Hurt’s initial character in The Doctor. It also represents an ideal scenario, and it is unrealistic to expect healthcare professionals to meet every need of every patient perfectly. Time and resources are finite. However, if we can strive to approach each patient interaction with the sense of awe and privilege that characterized our early aspirations in medicine – the wonder of the human body, the honor of sharing intimate moments in people’s lives – we can collectively improve the patient experience. I cannot single-handedly dismantle the systemic issues within the U.S. healthcare system, and attempting to do so would inevitably lead to burnout. But I can focus on “plugging the holes” for one patient at a time, and then the next, and the next. This incremental, patient-centered approach embodies the essence of compassionate healthcare and reflects the values that drew many of us to this profession in the first place.
