Years of navigating life without needing emergency room care came to a halt one day, marking my first personal trip to the ER. My previous ER experiences were as a support person for friends and family, ranging from a friend’s accidental encounter with a glass door to more serious diagnoses for loved ones. These visits, on the whole, instilled a sense of confidence in the healthcare system’s ability to provide competent care. My background in healthcare human resources and risk management further shaped this perspective, though it also made me aware of the potential for things to go wrong. All of these past encounters played in my mind as I found myself bleeding in the emergency room.
Living in a rural area without a local hospital meant an hour-long drive to the nearest ER. Even after arriving, a part of me questioned whether my visit was truly necessary. Earlier that day, a mishap with a four-inch razor blade resulted in a deep cut to the bone on my left index finger. Embarrassment mingled with the sight of the profusely bleeding wound. Finally, yielding to the insistence of my partner, I agreed to seek medical attention and get stitches. My initial question to the triage nurse, who I’ll call Nurse Warmth, was filled with self-doubt: “Should I really be here? Was I overreacting? I do need stitches, right?”
Nurse Warmth, true to her name, reassured me with kindness and professionalism. She confirmed that stitches were indeed necessary and that seeking hospital care was the right decision. She gently chided my family’s tendency to downplay injuries – I even recounted my three-year attempt to “walk off” a foot injury – a decision I now know was ill-advised. She shared a humorous anecdote of her own, and a comfortable rapport quickly developed between us. I felt immediately at ease with her judgment. Her gentle encouragement to seek timely care in the future further solidified my positive impression. “The system works,” I thought, “and I’m glad I came to this hospital.” Nurse Warmth created an environment where I felt welcomed, comfortable, and assured that my needs would be met by the medical professionals. I felt confident that the doctor would soon provide the necessary treatment.
After a considerable wait, punctuated by the removal of disruptive individuals by police officers and the arrival of a patient in distressingly minimal attire, I was finally led to a treatment room. It was 2 AM, the end of a long day, but my spirits remained optimistic and calm. However, the demeanor of the doctor assigned to my care, who I’ll refer to as Dr. Giggles, was far from what I anticipated. Dr. Giggles was abrupt, lacked empathy, and unsettlingly, punctuated the procedure with inappropriate laughter while inflicting pain. It seemed as though the urgency of my need for four stitches, or even the well-being of my finger, was of little concern to her. My latex allergy was met with exaggerated annoyance as she procured nitrile gloves. To reduce blood flow for the stitching process, she resorted to improvising a tourniquet from a glove finger, since a proper one wasn’t readily available. She snipped off the fingertip of a glove and rolled the remaining piece to use as a makeshift rubber band at the base of my injured finger. Adding to the discomfort, the local anesthetic failed to take effect. It seemed Dr. Giggles was attempting to instruct a medical student in the procedure, and the student’s repeated attempts at administering the anesthetic proved unsuccessful. Despite my generally high pain tolerance and lack of needle phobia, the repeated injections, including feeling the needle graze bone as they attempted to get closer to the wound site, were starting to test my patience.
The real surge of pain, however, came when Dr. Giggles repeatedly manipulated the makeshift glove tourniquet directly over my open wound. At this point, my primary desire was simply to escape the hospital as quickly as possible. I told her to forgo further anesthetic attempts and just proceed with the stitches. She responded with a strange giggle and began stitching. Ironically, the stitching itself was significantly less painful than the glove tourniquet. The lesser pain was almost a welcome distraction as I focused on the rhythmic motion of the needle closing the laceration. Upon completion, Dr. Giggles matter-of-factly informed me of the need to return in ten days for stitch removal. She also cautioned me about potential infection, particularly given the delay in seeking treatment – a delay that was compounded by the extended waiting time at the hospital, I couldn’t help but think. In that moment, a firm resolve solidified within me: I never wanted to encounter Dr. Giggles or set foot in that hospital again. After settling the bill and passing through security, I began the hour-long drive home, the clock reading 3 AM.
Dr. Giggles never inquired about my life outside the ER, never learned that I’ve been a musician for over three decades and a composer. She offered no reassurance regarding potential complications or concerns about the impact on my musical abilities, despite the wound’s proximity to my knuckle. I returned home feeling a mix of anger and relief. Ten days later, I opted to remove the stitches myself. This singular hospital experience left me reflecting on the stark contrast between Nurse Warmth’s compassionate care and Dr. Giggles’ detached approach. The critical difference, I realized, was empathy. Nurse Warmth demonstrated genuine empathetic concern, while Dr. Giggles displayed a complete absence of it. This scenario, unfortunately, is not unique and plays out daily for patients across healthcare settings in the US. The Cleveland Clinic’s video, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cDDWvj_q-o8, powerfully illustrates this very point.
Empathy is not merely a desirable trait in healthcare; it’s a fundamental element that fosters pro-social behavior, leading patients to develop rapport and trust with their clinicians. Trust and rapport are the cornerstones of effective communication, which, in turn, empowers clinicians to better understand patient needs and arrive at optimal solutions, ultimately leading to improved patient outcomes. As Kasley Killam highlights in her interview with Dr. Helen Riess of Harvard Medical School concerning building empathy in healthcare, effective communication is paramount.
“It’s associated with higher patient satisfaction, better adherence to medications, lower likelihood of mistakes, and fewer malpractice cases. It even affects patient health outcomes; a review of research concluded that effective physician-patient communication improves patients’ emotional health, symptoms, physiologic responses, and pain levels. Empathy is good for patients. It builds trust, which increases patient satisfaction and compliance. When patients perceive that they connect on common ground with the physician, they have better recovery rates.” Dr. Riess emphasizes the critical role of healthcare providers in creating a comfortable space for patients to articulate their concerns, fostering open communication and understanding. Nathan Wanner, medical director of the University of Utah Hospital’s palliative care service, eloquently summarizes this need: patients need to “feel they are listened to, respected, and valued as individuals.”
For healthcare leaders dedicated to enhancing patient satisfaction, understanding the pivotal role of empathy in successful clinical communication is crucial. Sharing personal narratives serves as a powerful means to express and elicit empathetic concern and to convey vital information. When clinicians are overburdened or emotionally detached, hindering their ability to recognize and respond to these cues, patients may perceive a lack of care, and critical details can be overlooked during interactions. While my encounter with “Doctor Giggles” didn’t result in dire consequences, and my finger healed with only minor nerve damage, it left an indelible negative impression of that hospital. Although the experience didn’t lead to litigation, the likelihood of my return or recommendation to others is nonexistent. The story of “Doctor Giggles” serves as a persistent reminder of the profound impact of empathy, or the lack thereof, in healthcare.
If you’d like to learn more about how to lead an organization toward higher patient satisfaction, contact University of Southern California, Price’s Executive Masters of Health Administration staff to Pre-Qualify Now.
Written by Anna Montgomery, MPA
Anna Montgomery earned her MPA at USC Price and is pursuing her EdD at USC Rossier.
