A Good Morning

This morning, as I prepared for a visit to my doctor, I thought about a patient whom I had not seen in many years. He had presented with a complex problem, involving an incorrect diagnosis, given by reputable physicians at a reputable medical center, and treatment proposal, and my job was to establish the correct diagnosis, tell him that he did not need chemotherapy, tell him that the most appropriate treatment at that time was surgical, and help him get on with what turned out to be a long, well-lived life. Early on, I had presented his "case" at an academic conference at a nearby University Medical Center.  My last thought about him this morning was that our experience had taught me that no physician should be arrogant about establishing a patient's diagnosis, particularly if in the process meant correcting another physician's diagnosis.  After all, the second doctor is always smarter because he has the work of the preceding doctor to look back on and a time interval between that doctor's evaluation and the time the patient presents for further advice, to clarify the situation.

On my arrival at my doctor's office, the nurse brought me to his examining room. She asked me questions appropriate to my visit and that told me that, as his daughter,  she had accompanied the patient described above to my office on several visits. She described her father's opinion concerning the way I practiced.  She told me about her father's death, a number of years after my retirement from active practice. I did not remember her trips to the office with her father, and told her that,  though I did remember significant elements of what he had related to me.  I mentioned that I had thought about her father this morning and demurred when she asked me why I had thought about him, questions I later answered.

This time, I was the patient. She and the doctor in the office were the health care professionals. It was a good morning.