Suck Up and Be Nice

I am surprised when people ask me why I am pleasant and very relaxed at work... My typical response is that I get up at 0430 and do some sort of physical activity for at least an hour, and also use that time to mentally prep myself for areas that I feel I need to continue to work on. I then throw in that I am not in the hospital bed and I am going home tonight. So regardless what the patient says to me, I let it roll off of my back - I'm not saying I'm not bothered by mean disrespectful comments, I am. But I am going home, so I smile and suck it up!

Beeman

Suck Up and Be Nice

Monica Kidd, MD, MSc

Medscape Med Students. 2008; ©2008 Medscape
Posted 07/24/2008


The card came in an envelope from the medical school. Inside was a second envelope addressed to me, care of the administrator for the residency program I am just starting. Marked in a lower corner was the word Personal. There was no return address.

I opened the envelope. Inside was a card that read, Congratulations on your achievement, and inside that was a letter, hand-written in block capitals.

"Dear Monica," it began. "You may not remember me, as I do you, and understandably so, but I met you several times while my late husband was a patient at the Health Sciences Centre in February and March 2007. You were a clinical clerk with the team of Drs..."

It took me a minute to cast my mind back more than a year and scan the thousands of patients and families I've met since then to come up with their faces. Then more came to me. I don't remember the details of L's (the husband's) case, but I remember he was very sick. More than that, I remember the near constant presence of his wife and daughter, the many meetings in the hallway, the many paper cups of coffee. They had left a thank-you card for me with the ward clerk after L had been discharged.

She congratulated me on my recent graduation from medical school. And then she went on:

"You left a lasting impression with me and my family with your pleasant and friendly personality, and your willingness to help, to your ability, when needed."

And the letter didn't stop there.

"It was quite a pleasant surprise to read [an article from the university] and to learn that you recently married to Dr. Steve Hunt. What a coincidence!! This is another doctor who I admire tremendously and who I met several times while undergoing and recovering from surgery in August 2007."

I showed it to Steve that night at supper. "Man, I can't remember her at all." Which is understandable. He sifts through so many details in a day as a resident on a busy surgical service that I'm sometimes amazed that he remembers my name. (Just kidding, Steve.)

One of my favorite songwriters is Ani DiFranco. She's got a song that goes:

Maybe you don't like your job
Maybe you didn't get enough sleep
Well, nobody likes their job
Nobody got enough sleep
Maybe you just had
The worst day of your life
But, you know, there's no escape
And there's no excuse
So just suck up and be nice

If her songs weren't filled with subversive politics, the lyrics might be taken as platitudes. But in this case, "be nice" means "stop thinking only of yourself for a microsecond and realize that other people are hurting too. Probably worse than you, you privileged baby." Or something to that effect.

I guess the stars aligned that both Steve and I managed to "be nice" to this particular patient and his family. I'm sure that there are other patients we've slipped with -- been too tired, too distracted, too bored -- but I sincerely hope that they're few in number.

The lesson is that everything matters: every patient encounter, every talk with the family. And not just for attending doctors, but for medical students too. I remember enough about L's case to recall feeling completely powerless to do anything to help the man. All I did was chat with him and his family, check his vitals, examine him, write a note, and run along to tell someone who had a say in his care. But now, more than a year later, and after L has passed on, that little bit mattered enough for his wife to reach out with a near-anonymous thank-you.

In his "Reflections of a Mountain," the story of a pilgrimage to the holy mountain of Athos, poet W.S. Merwin discusses with a young monk the nature of goodness, and secular altruism vs monasticism. The monk says, "What your works do will never be known to you." One woman was kind enough to change that for Steve and me.

Monica Kidd, MD, MSc, first-year resident, Memorial University of Newfoundland, St. John's, Newfoundland and Labrador, Canada

Disclosure: Monica Kidd, MD, MSc, has disclosed no relevant financial relationships.