A few years ago, I was that awkward medical student hiding behind her Registrar as he relays to the critically ill patient’s family that the patient most likely will not survive. That was my defense mechanism – hiding behind my someone or pretending to scribble in my notebook. I avoided the eye contact. I just dont have the heart to see the pain in their eyes. Or offer them solace in this trying time for them. I mean, really, what can we offer to counteract the hurting words? A hug? A hand squeeze? An empathetic look? Nothing really. Have you imagined yourself in these people’s shoes?
That night, my Registrar turned to me and said “it will get better with time..”. I guess my forlorn look said it all. I was disturbed. Breaking bad news to the patient and their families is the hardest thing I have to do every day. And it had been years since that incident but my little heart still breaks bit by bit. Each time I walked away from a distressed family, I’d feel a stab in my chest. So how was it supposed to be easier? The words that came out became easier muttered I guess. Yet, that was all that is easier. Handling the vibes, looking straight into the eyes, offering comfort were as hard to endure as ever.
Today I saw my patient in the surgical ward. Things are not looking good. We repeated the scan and my guy had his cancer spread to everywhere possible. Tough. I said what I had to say, that we have options still. We aim to control the disease. Or palliate the symptoms. What did it for me was how his elderly wife ran after me with scan report in her hand. Explain the report to me doctor, she said. My watch showed nearly 5 pm and I still have two more patients to see. Those sad eyes. So I sat through with her, laying out every detail in laymen terms. And as I watched her nodding to my words, my heart sank at how she wanted to actively understand and be involved. I drew the liver and showed her how the passage of bile is now blocked. Hence why her husband is as yellow as a banana at the moment. And she took it in, exhaling softly. In spite of the news, she was the one patting my arm and thanked me. As I looked back at her, now back by her husband side and holding hands, the tears welled up and I left swiftly.
So, how is it going to be easier? You tell me.
