Doctors get sick too and this is a good thing

Every time I get sick, it changes my practice just slightly.  It doesn't change my medical management, but I can tell that I react to people differently.  Here's an account I wrote ages ago, then forgot about, that illustrates this well.

So I have this lump in my breast.  No, no, don't freak out; it meets all the criteria for likely being benign:

1. young patient with no medical problems
2. no family history of breast cancer, or really cancer of any kind
3. lump is well-defined
4. freely movable (i.e. doesn't seem attached to the chest wall)
5. tender (super tender.)
6. started suddenly
7. no funny-seeming lymph nodes
8. no other symptoms

All of that put together likely equals a cyst that is infected or blocking a duct or something like that.  At worst, it may be a benign tumor, but even that seems like a stretch.  All other possibilities are way out there in The Land Of Rare Things.  Despite all that, though, I still needed to see a doctor myself.  I thought this thing should probably get checked out, and also it was hurting and I wanted it to not hurt anymore. 

I'll be honest; it was a good reminder of the patient experience. 

It was hard to be perfectly on time.  Getting a breast exam was kind of awkward despite how professional and nice my doctor is.  I completely forgot something I wanted to tell him and he had to come back in.  When he said he thought this was "kind of weird" and that he wanted to get a mammogram "just to be safe," I felt a little chill; we'd just finished talking about low risk I am for cancer, but still!  I worried a bit about the cost of all this stuff.  I went for some labwork and that needle really hurt, although I was a big girl and didn't swat at the nurse.  I'm grateful that I'm on vacation this week so I can go and have these tests without using sick days, but at the same time I really don't want to go and have this tender lump squished about by a mammogram machine. 

In the end, I got an ultrasound rather than a mammogram, and they put me on antibiotics for a week, which seemed to take care of it.  I still had to see a breast specialist and get several breast exams to make sure the lump was gone, though; at my last visit, he told me I wouldn't need any more extra surveillance.  It was just a small infection after all.


I like to think I take good care of my patients in that I not only give good medical treatment, but also do my best to respond to my patients with sensitivity.  But the fact is that it's very easy to gloss over the reality of someone else's experience, especially when each individual is just one in a long line of people you have to see that day.  When you are a totally healthy person, you simply forget that medical care is awkward and time-consuming and at times nerve-wracking for patients.  Sickness, mild or severe, reminds us of all these things.

To put it simply, having my share of normal human suffering allows me to connect with people better, which is the most fulfilling part of my job.  So I'm glad that I've had back pain and bronchitis and breast infections.  I'm glad that I've been that patient that was so miserable from a cold that I went to my doctor, hoping against hope that it might be bacterial so I could get an antibiotic to feel better (it was viral.  I was grumpy and ill for two weeks).  Having known the poison of depression lets me pray for those who are depressed with empathy and compassion.  Knowing the agony of migraines makes it easy to really care when someone comes in and tells me that his headaches are ruining his life.  Experience with grief allows me to offer better comfort to those who are grieving.  I know what I'm saying when I tell someone that His grace is sufficient in their weakness.  His grace is sufficient in my weakness, too.