Strokes are never foreseen, anticipated events. The devastation of these catastrophes are evident enough when assessing the patients themselves, but the shock and confusion experienced by the families can often go unnoticed. Walking by the Neurology Intensive Care Unit is a daily occurrence, and I would always see family members of patients standing outside, and their expressions were always quite varied. Some were sad and crying, some anticipating good news and hopeful, some simply trying to console those closest affected by the tragedy, but it seemed that they all shared a look of confusion, of being lost. It wasn't until I began my stroke rotation and I had a chance to speak with these family members that I realized how their sense of facing the unknown was truly bearing down on them. On the very first morning of service I was overwhelmed by the amount of questions I received from the first family I spoke with. I didn't have all the answer, but I assured them that the attending physician would be able to accurately deal with any questions they would have.
Unfortunately, this is where the information flow will, all too often, stop. Whether it is because of overall forgetfulness, the rapidity of events, the respect and paradoxical fear that the families have for the attending physician, or whether they become overwhelmed by the short tidbits of information the physician provides the families with, the families will not ask the physician any questions. A common quote heard by patients and their families is 'I've got no questions for you now, but I'll have a million questions as soon as you walk out.' Only to return the next day to hear the same thing. Even when questions were asked, the answers are seldom remembered.
It was under this trend that I had started stroke service, and I didn't expect any deviation from the status quo. There was one doctor, however, that seemed to be able to get families to talk, to ask questions, to be involved. After meeting the doctor and going on rounds with him for the first time, I was surprised at how he was able to talk with and explain difficult concepts to the families about the condition, prognosis, and everything else that the families usually were curious about. He seemed to know exactly what it was the families wanted to hear, and he told them everything in an understanding, calm, and collected voice. One of the more remarkable things I witnessed was that he would refer back to questions asked on previous days to realign his previous answers with current information. And while the mood of the families depended mostly on the status of their loved ones, they realized just how special it was to have a doctor that would take the time to do so much for those not even physically hurt by the diagnosis.
I as well am grateful to have met a doctor of his caliber, and I can only hope to maintain the same level of empathy, understanding, and patience he showed day in and day out during my future years as a physician.
UICOM-P Student, Class of 2012
