How We Dress Matters

Once upon a time, the Chairman of Medicine (also my mentor) practically blew a gasket when he saw one of his faculty members wearing blue jeans to work on the weekend. The doctor was rounding on the hospital wards, seeing patients on a Saturday morning.

I wasn't present to witness what occurred in the moment but there were all sorts of stories floating around. What I do remember like it was yesterday was what The Chief told us residents as we gathered for Morning Report in the conference room adjacent to his office shortly after this event. His words have stuck with me forever; they are so ingrained that conscious thought about the issue comes up only when I happen to see a colleague in jeans.. In the 30 years since The Chief imparted his wisdom on the subject,  I wouldn't dream of putting on a pair of jeans and heading into work, weekend or not.


"When you dress like that [jeans], the message you send to your patient is loud and clear; you'd rather be out on the golf course or anywhere else rather than where you are right now."

I think he was/is absolutely correct. Yesterday was Sunday and I was on call, rounding in the hospital. Standing in a patient's room with three attentive and concerned family members at the beside hungry for information and a sense that their loved one was in good hands, in walked a surgeon, dressed in blue jeans.. Was it just my impression or was every word out of his mouth colored by what he had chosen to wear?

I may be old school but, in my view, jeans of any kind have no place in a hospital except on visitors. The Chief said it best.

Bravery?

I finally learned what not to say to my patient who is battling a chronic illness whether it be cancer, recurrent strokes, kidney failure on dialysis, diabetes with endless complications or anything remotely similar.

Never (ever) say: "You're so brave." in response to their hardships, struggles, and the seeming courage they show making it through each day.

Guilty of this faux pas on an embarrassingly frequent number of occasions, a light bulb finally went off in my head. Uniformly I've received the same response from my patients to my perceived encouraging and complimentary statement. I've been told nicely by some and with exasperation by others something on the order of "Brave? I had no choice in the matter." In other words, trying to pin the word brave on someone fighting for their life is likely neither reassuring nor endearing. In fact, many who've heard these words come out of my mouth probably say to themselves, "Doc just doesn't get it.".

I suppose I'll never really know how annoying my comment, however innocent, feels since I don't walk in their shoes. What I learned was to hold back on this reflexive comment and instead, listen more deeply, respond with the squeeze of my hand on theirs and say less. For this, I'm grateful.

Intermission

I want (desperately) to post on this blog. Flooded with ideas, I'm struggling to focus. What I need to do is stop thinking so much and just write. Write.

In part I'm plagued by wanting what I say to stand up to a self imposed standard. "It's got to be good", I tell myself. An overwhelming need to produce at my peak, to write my best does nothing but push me into paralysis.

"I'll write later", the voice inside says. Procrastination is alive and well in my soul.

I find myself pondering a potential post and sinking into weariness considering all the seemingly important background facts or figures or data or proper recollection that need some research;  any one of number of other details which spoil the spirit of writing.

Here's my resolution: Begin again and ignore the background noise  that wants to disrupt what could be good stuff emanating from my screen.  Hit the publish post button. Just go with the sentences longing to be free.