Thursday, February 28, 2013
"He even had her smiling"
In a recent comment on an OSF St. Francis "DAISY Award" card, it was said that student doctor Matthew Fischer (Class of 2014) "was very calm, compassionate and caring while examining [a patient]. He even had her smiling by the end of his visit."
Wednesday, February 20, 2013
Humanism Every Day
Just an obvious reminder—humanism and compassionate care should be there 100%, 365 days a year.
L. Whittaker, Jr MD, FACS
Sunday, February 17, 2013
Families of Patients Appreciate Compassion in Care
One of our senior medical students shared this inspiring story about an Emergency Medicine physician's expression of how he was touched by a dying patient http://m.cbsatlanta.com/w/main/story/85029303/
In turn, his revelation of an emotional connection provided some measure of comfort to the patient's family.
Although this story did not happen in Peoria, I think it could have. Over the years I have read letters in the newspaper and heard comments from families who deeply appreciated the compassion and caring shown by our local emergency room physicians and nurses during some the darkest moments in their lives. I am grateful that our students are able to train with such inspiring role models.
Linda Rowe, EdD
GHHS Chapter Advisor
University of Illinois College of Medicine at Peoria
In turn, his revelation of an emotional connection provided some measure of comfort to the patient's family.
Although this story did not happen in Peoria, I think it could have. Over the years I have read letters in the newspaper and heard comments from families who deeply appreciated the compassion and caring shown by our local emergency room physicians and nurses during some the darkest moments in their lives. I am grateful that our students are able to train with such inspiring role models.
Linda Rowe, EdD
GHHS Chapter Advisor
University of Illinois College of Medicine at Peoria
Monday, February 11, 2013
Pediatric Surgeon Goes Above and Beyond
My daughter had numerous admissions to the children’s hospital between the months of November 2011 until December 2012. This included too many surgeries to keep track of. We had the utmost privilege of having Dr. Mark Holterman involved in her care from day one. Not only was he relentless in finding the cause of her pain, he was also relentless in keeping her happy and safe.
After a major surgery, Steph asked why he left his starbucks in the hall. He stated that it wouldn’t have been polite to drink in front of her since she was NPO. He then offered to bring her one when she could drink again and asked her favorite kind. The next day, he asked his PA to get Steph what she wanted. Around noon, Dr. Holterman himself showed up in our room with the Starbucks she had ordered, that he personally had went and purchased. Talk about making a kid’s day and a good doctor/patient relationship scaled to the next level.
It is just the little things in life that keep it human in the medical world.
We are forever grateful for those little things that mean so much to a teenager trapped in pain and in the hospital
M.L.
OSF St. Francis Medical Center
Monday, February 4, 2013
More than a Doctor
For the last few weeks of my internal medicine rotation, I traveled more than an hour away from Peoria to work with Dr. Mark Fernandez in his outpatient office. As I prepared to see my first few patients, I pored over their medical records, gathering every detail, lab result, diagnosis, and other relevant historical information. After interviewing the patient and gathering my thoughts, I would locate my preceptor to present my findings. Before each of my presentations, without fail, rather than delving into the intricacies of their illnesses, Dr. Fernandez preferred to tell me about his patients - not in reference to their medical conditions, but rather with respect to their lives. He would say something like, "Oh, Don is here today? He's been my patient for a long time. He's a really great guy! I see him at the gym and our kids are in scouts together." Time and again, it impressed me how well Dr. Fernandez knew his patients. No matter how many appointments he had scheduled on any given day, he would always take some time to update me on how amazing his patients were as indviduals, then would turn the ensuing clinical interview into a conversation between friends.
The most remarkable enounter I witnessed was with an elderly patient with multiple problems. The patient's son was a fairly close acquaintance of Dr. Fernandez. It quickly became apparent to me that the patient's health was deteriorating rapidly. The gentleness, care, respect, and compassion that Dr. Fernandez showed this patient was more than a doctor-patient relationship; it was something akin to how a son would treat his ailing parent. Through it all, I could see in the patient's eyes that Dr. Fernandez was more than a doctor; he was part of the family.
As my time in the office came to a close, Dr. Fernandez left me with this final thought: "My patients don't come to this office to see the doctor. They come to see me." the most brilliant and intuitve doctors can effectively treat diseases, but true success and satisfaction come from treating patients. In the end, that's what it's all about.
Christian Nunez
Class of 2013
(some details in this story have been altered to protect privacy)
The most remarkable enounter I witnessed was with an elderly patient with multiple problems. The patient's son was a fairly close acquaintance of Dr. Fernandez. It quickly became apparent to me that the patient's health was deteriorating rapidly. The gentleness, care, respect, and compassion that Dr. Fernandez showed this patient was more than a doctor-patient relationship; it was something akin to how a son would treat his ailing parent. Through it all, I could see in the patient's eyes that Dr. Fernandez was more than a doctor; he was part of the family.
As my time in the office came to a close, Dr. Fernandez left me with this final thought: "My patients don't come to this office to see the doctor. They come to see me." the most brilliant and intuitve doctors can effectively treat diseases, but true success and satisfaction come from treating patients. In the end, that's what it's all about.
Christian Nunez
Class of 2013
(some details in this story have been altered to protect privacy)
Friday, February 1, 2013
A Human Connection in the Trauma Room
"Excuse me," I shouted, barely avoiding running into two nurses as I jogged down the long, dimly lit hallway. The trauma pager had beeped at 2:15 AM, waking me from a light sleep in one of the call rooms on the opposite side of the hospital. As I continued my half run, my brain was still waking up. Injured people from a motor vehicle accident involving a semi-truck and a SUV had been transported to our hospital. My imagination was kicking into full gear. Entering the trauma room, I found the charge nurse and scribbled the information I needed on my pad of paper. The doors burst open as the driver of the SUV was rushed in with the emergency transport team. The whole room erupted into chaos as I did my best to stay out of everyone's way.
After thirty minutes of tubes, fluids and continuous CPR, the patient was no longer breathing. There was no pulse on the monitor and most of the staff had stopped running around frantically. Suddenly, the doctor applying chest compressions yelled out, "Where's the medical student? Medical student?" I rushed over with my paper and pen in hand, ready to transcribe. To my surprise, he handed me a pair of gloves, stepped down from his stool and instructed me to continue with the chest compressions. I frantically pulled on the latex gloves, tripping up the one-step stool, unprepared for what was about to occur. As I began compressions, I looked down into a face whose eyes stared into mine with no feeling and no warmth, but what appeared to me to be a pleading not to stop, not to give up. "1...2...3...4...5," I counted in my head as I pushed with all my might, wishing I could somehow push the life back into his eyes. This individual whose life was unknown to me had become in that moment everything that I cared about.
This one memory has taught me many things about medicine and the value of people. What was it about this man that drove me so much, emotionally and physically, to bring him back from death? Previously, I would have said this was due to the altruistic nature that resides within most medical professionals, the reason we claim to be in this career from the beginning. While this is still true, I believe there is something deeper that drove me and pushes others to give everything they have to save a complete stranger: the human connection. As people, we are blessed with the capability to comprehend that there is more to a person than what we simply perceive with our senses. We are a collection of our parents, friends, and family. We embody our achievements and failures, our hopes and dreams. These are things most everyone can share and appreciate with one another. The human connection allows us to look past the exterior and see a little of ourselves in everyone we meet. For me, I looked into this stranger's dying eyes and wanted to not only rescue this man, but myself as well.
"Didn't you hear me?" the doctor shouted while grabbing my shoulder. He had been speaking, trying to tell me the time of death had been announced and all efforts for resuscittion were to be stopped, including chest compressions. I backed away from the table, filled with questions that were impossible to answer. What did I do wrong? Why didn't he live? Why did they let him die? While my mind understood there was nothing more that could have been done, especially by me, my emotions overruled the logic of the situation. At the end of that clerkship, I left with an understanding of the human connection, the bond we as practitioners have with patients that drives us to be physicians. During a few short hours, I learned a lesson that I will continue to reflect upon and use to enrich not only the lives of my patients but mine as well.
Samuel Abebe
Class of 2013
After thirty minutes of tubes, fluids and continuous CPR, the patient was no longer breathing. There was no pulse on the monitor and most of the staff had stopped running around frantically. Suddenly, the doctor applying chest compressions yelled out, "Where's the medical student? Medical student?" I rushed over with my paper and pen in hand, ready to transcribe. To my surprise, he handed me a pair of gloves, stepped down from his stool and instructed me to continue with the chest compressions. I frantically pulled on the latex gloves, tripping up the one-step stool, unprepared for what was about to occur. As I began compressions, I looked down into a face whose eyes stared into mine with no feeling and no warmth, but what appeared to me to be a pleading not to stop, not to give up. "1...2...3...4...5," I counted in my head as I pushed with all my might, wishing I could somehow push the life back into his eyes. This individual whose life was unknown to me had become in that moment everything that I cared about.
This one memory has taught me many things about medicine and the value of people. What was it about this man that drove me so much, emotionally and physically, to bring him back from death? Previously, I would have said this was due to the altruistic nature that resides within most medical professionals, the reason we claim to be in this career from the beginning. While this is still true, I believe there is something deeper that drove me and pushes others to give everything they have to save a complete stranger: the human connection. As people, we are blessed with the capability to comprehend that there is more to a person than what we simply perceive with our senses. We are a collection of our parents, friends, and family. We embody our achievements and failures, our hopes and dreams. These are things most everyone can share and appreciate with one another. The human connection allows us to look past the exterior and see a little of ourselves in everyone we meet. For me, I looked into this stranger's dying eyes and wanted to not only rescue this man, but myself as well.
"Didn't you hear me?" the doctor shouted while grabbing my shoulder. He had been speaking, trying to tell me the time of death had been announced and all efforts for resuscittion were to be stopped, including chest compressions. I backed away from the table, filled with questions that were impossible to answer. What did I do wrong? Why didn't he live? Why did they let him die? While my mind understood there was nothing more that could have been done, especially by me, my emotions overruled the logic of the situation. At the end of that clerkship, I left with an understanding of the human connection, the bond we as practitioners have with patients that drives us to be physicians. During a few short hours, I learned a lesson that I will continue to reflect upon and use to enrich not only the lives of my patients but mine as well.
Samuel Abebe
Class of 2013
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