When Doctors Become Patients

Doctors are said to make the worst patients. But does becoming a patient make someone a better doctor?

depression doctorDr. Robert Klitzman (Charles Manley)

Columbia University Medical Center psychiatrist Dr. Robert Klitzman explores that question in his latest book, “When Doctors Become Patients.” It’s based on Dr. Klitzman’s own experience as a patient, and on interviews with more than 70 men and women who have experienced both sides of medicine, as doctors and as patients. Some had to cope with depression or cancer; others with heart disease, H.I.V., hepatitis or various other illnesses.

When doctors get sick, they discover fissures in the health system that they didn’t know existed. They learn that seemingly small annoyances they never paid attention to as doctors — like long waiting times or a broken television in a hospital room — really are a big deal when you are the patient. Even doctors who thought of themselves as compassionate recognize they can do better once they experience life as a patient.

Dr. Klitzman starts the book with his own poignant tale of illness. His sister worked on the 105th floor of the World Trade Center and died on Sept. 11, 2001. After the funeral, his body gave out. He couldn’t get out of bed. He developed what felt like the flu. Even though he’s a psychiatrist, he resisted the notion that he was depressed. Later, after acknowledging his illness, he gained new insight into his own patients. He was amazed at how pronounced the physical symptoms of depression really were. “I felt weak and ashamed, and began to appreciate, too, the embarrassment and stigma my patients felt,” he writes.

I spoke with Dr. Klitzman this week about what he and other doctors learned after becoming patients themselves.

Q.

In the book, you share your personal story of illness. How difficult was it for you, as a doctor, to admit that you had also become a patient?

A.

I felt like I was “coming out” with it. I think there is a stigma with being a psychiatrist or any kind of doctor and talking about being depressed or having any illness really. I feel like I’m putting myself out there. I realize people may be looking at me differently. I cringe a little bit, but I feel the purpose and the point is important. Many doctors then come up to me or e-mail me about their experience with illness. My talking about it has freed up people to speak about this.

Q.

But doctors know more than anyone that people get sick. Why is there a stigma when a doctor gets sick?

A.

I have a chapter called “Magic White Coats.” Doctors felt again and again that they wear magic white coats. Illness happens to them over there, not to us. It starts Day 1 when you go to medical school. The first day you are given a cadaver and told to start opening it up. It immediately distances you. Over there is sickness, illness, patients, disease and death. And you are here.

It’s part of the hubris of medicine. It teaches a professional hierarchy over patients and over disease. Some of the doctors in the book said they worked harder when they were ill. One doctor said, ”If I worked harder and harder and treated more patients and helped more people, then I wouldn’t get sick, and I wouldn’t die.”

Q.

How does learning about a doctor’s experience as a patient help the rest of us?

A.

It can help train doctors to do better. When patients complain, we think, “That’s just a patient complaining again.” We dismiss it way too often. These doctors, because they have this unique position as patient and doctor, they can say, “I’m one of you guys and these are the things we’re doing wrong.”

Q.

So what did they learn?

A.

One thing they became aware of is how patients try to please their doctors. The doctor stands in the room and says, “Is everything O.K.?” Everything is not O.K., but they realized that if they say that, the doctor gets a long face. There is a normal natural instinct to want to please people. They realized that this must mean their patients have all these years been trying to please them. It gets in the way of doctors and patients really saying what is wrong. They think doctors unconsciously don’t really want to hear about problems. Patients often feel uncomfortable saying a lot about what’s going on.

Q.

In your book, you talk about how many doctors, including yourself, were surprised at how powerful some symptoms of illness really are?

A.

I interviewed a gastroenterologist who treated abdominal pain and suddenly she developed it. She said, “I had no idea that when patients said pain, this is what they were talking about. It was so much beyond words.” And she couldn’t describe it. Patients have to learn to really convey as powerfully as they can when things are painful.

Take nausea and fatigue. Doctors said that for years they had sort of dismissed those kinds of symptoms. But then they had nausea or insomnia, and they said, “It was so much worse than I ever would have imagined.” That, to me, means that we as doctors are missing the experiences patients are suffering. We don’t pay attention.

Q.

What was the most surprising thing you learned from doctors who became patients?

A.

The spiritual issues. Doctors would spontaneously say they realized how important spiritual things are. They’d say, “Patients used to ask me to pray for them, and I’d say, ‘Whatever.’ When I became a patient, I realized how important that was.”

Medical school doesn’t teach a single thing on religion or spirituality. The doctors weren’t getting it, but they realized that was important, particularly when facing end of life. Some of these doctors even said, “I don’t believe in anything, but I reconsidered my beliefs.” Or they tried to find something they believed in. They said, “I realize it helps my patients.” I didn’t expect to hear any of that, but again and again it came up.

Q.

What did spending time in the hospital teach doctors about life as a patient?

A.

They talked about the physical plant and the bureaucracy — things like a broken window, all that stuff we put aside in training. That’s not important, but of course it’s important. Again and again doctors talked about how the TV in the room didn’t work, or the phone didn’t work. They also became aware of how many mistakes are made, like the wrong dose of medication. They were astonished by that.

Q.

How does the experience of having an illness change how doctors treat patients going forward?

A.

These were good doctors to start. I always thought I was compassionate and listened. I had no idea what patients were going through. My eyes were completely opened.

One surgeon told me that the night before he underwent surgery, his surgeon told him there is a 5 percent chance you will die in the O.R. He could have said, “There’s a 95 percent chance things will go O.K.” He had been a surgeon for 30 years, and he said he’d never thought about how those two kinds of information trigger such completely different emotional responses.

Rather than standing at the foot of the bed, another doctor would sit on the edge of the bed and fill out the chart, giving him a few more moments of interaction. The fact that he would sit down made an impression. After having that experience, the doctor said, “Since then I’ve done that with all my patients in the hospital.”

… Another doctor always says to patients now, “I’m sorry to have kept you waiting.” He never said that before.

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Interns and residents should be required to spend some time as a patient. I was recently hospitalized with extremely painful osteomyelitis in my lumbar spine. The morphine wasn’t working well, and I begged to have the Pain Management Team see me. The resident told me that all they would do is “increase the morphine”. When they finally were called they not only increased it a lot, but added two additional medications to the regimen. As a nurse, I tried to keep some degree of control over what was occurring, asking to see my lab results. The resident asked me if I wanted to “micromanage my case”. She really needed to see things from the other side of the bed. Having been previously hospitalized multiple times I feel I have a very good vision of what patients go through that carries over into my professional life.

One could say, a walk in someone else’s shoes?

This also tells a little bit more about a patients REAL mindset at the doctor’s office. Opening up a bit more, you’ll find doctors are actually sympathetic.

A great little piece; I’ll certainly pick up the book. As an internist I’ve worked with probably hundreds if not thousands of patients who went through some surgical procedure or another, but wasn’t until my first time having surgery that I really “got” their reactions to the things I said or did, or understood how the important the little things are in the clinical interaction as well as the hospital/clinic as a whole; stuff that I just would dismiss as unrelated to the outcome of a procedure, like having a friendly staff, getting a warm blanket as I went to the OR, people explaining things to me even though they could have assumed I would know it already…if being a patient taught me anything it was to slow down with my own patients, ask the questions that aren’t yes/no answers, things like that. I’m glad doctors are beginning to talk about these issues in the public sphere, it makes us both more humane to our patients and more human to them.

An important lesson for all medical professionals, not just doctors. It’s unfortunate that we don’t have an easy opportunity to “interview” medical professionals before committing to them, as we do bosses and partners and the like.

Everyone who serves others would do well to remember what it feels like to be in a position of need, and that a bit of compassion can make a tremendous difference.

Not that I wish a major medical illness or procedure on anyone, but it’s heartening to hear that doctors who have been patients themselves can become more empathetic to their own patients as a result. If only there were a way to convey this to all physicians without having them actually “walk in the same shoes.” Of course the same can also be said for anyone who is hospitalized or becomes seriously ill for the first time. Speaking from experience, I had no idea what one goes through when they enter the “system.” Thank you for bringing the book to my attention.

I almost wonder if part of medical training might involve turning doctors into patients? I have in mind medications like Tapazole, which blocks thyroid hormones to simulate hypothyroidism (a fairly common malady) or Cytomel to cause hyperthyroidism? I’m sure that someone with medical knowledge could come up with many more ideas.

Also, as part of training, do physicians undergo diagnostic procedures that can be unpleasant, like mammograms or colonoscopies? If not, it might lead to some of the understanding that the article describes.

Of course, there are certain to be ethical issues here, but I’d like to think that it is worthy of a least a bit of discussion.

Good reporting. Nothing else. Oh, I checked the byline and was pleasantly surprised to see your name.

Sometimes it’s hard to walk that delicate line of empathy and being able to stick an NG tube in someone’s nose, or a needle in a baby’s arm, just imagining how uncomfortable it must be.

At least it still is for me as a student. I think a lot of medical professionals distance themselves in order to be able to do what we do to people, for people, to help them. It’s a weird kind of balance that seems almost impossible to master.

As a patient I had a doctor who couldn’t look me in the eye when my jaw was swollen shut. I thought he didn’t care about me. That is, until I got better and he looked so relieved and happy, then I knew that he just cared too much to be there for me all the way.

It’s not easy seeing suffering all the time. Most of the time I think doctors care a lot, they are just human too and don’t always handle it in the best way.

Most doctors became doctors because they wanted to help people. That, sometimes, means simply to listen to their fears, concerns, and struggles. It is, however, easier said than done when you get only 15 minutes per patient and it takes 10 minutes just to sort through the 25 different medications he or she is taking.

As a new intern, I’d be standing in a room full of very sick people with endless demands. I was quite cocky, and felt very important and put upon, running this complicated show. When one little old lady asked for a pillow (we didn’t even have them), my reaction was, “What do you think I’m running here..a hotel?” (Fortunately I didn’t say what I was thinking!). On my last night as an intern, I had an anaphylactic reaction, went unconscious, and woke up on a gurney in that same room. My first request? A pillow. That was a big lesson. Now I’m in my 50s, and have had many procedures and hospitalizations, which is helpful because I can share that with patients. It has made me a more caring doctor.

I truly believe Dr. Klitzman has recognized the biggest problem between doctor and patient.

I went to the Dentist a few weeks ago. I needed impressions made for whitening and the trays to cover the teeth and hold the molding material were made of metal and they were very large causing me to gag. The tech was a young woman in her 20’s and she remarked, “I know it doesn’t taste good and it is unconfortable because I’ve had it down a hundred times.” I asked why somebody her age with beautiful teeth would have experienced this at least a hundred times. She said they pratciced on each other in school so they could learn the process. It felt good that she understood but I seriously doubt dentists do the procedure time and time again in school.

Hopefully this book becomes a bestseller in the medical community and leads to changes in medical school so our physiscians don’t have to learn empathy by becoming a patient themselves.

I am writing a masters essay for a degree in bioethics. It considers the often unconscious assumptions, attitudes and biases health professionals hold toward patients with disabilities and their affect on care given and received. Empathy, rather than pity or indifference, requires awareness. This book will go as long way toward increasing it, especially important for those with disabilities because we are frequent, yet underserved, consumers of healthcare. In a society compelled to consider practical medical ethics issues like quality of life and just resource allocation, empathy can go a long way towards personalizing an often daunting “system.”

Just as in “Secrets Revealed” blog-piece, this is more about changing markets and people’s attitudes than it is about medicine. Sure, MDs are much more sympathetic when they have been patients. Likewise, journalists are much more sympathetic when they have been targeted (or merely have suffered from sloppy reporting), and everyone becomes much more sympathetic when they actually go through the day with someone with a challenging disability, or live for awhile as the one person who looks different from, and cannot understand the language of, the people who surround them.

This does not, of course, mean we should all get abused, run over, misdiagnosed and insulted.

Perhaps the better approach might be to say “why can’t we seem to be touched by others’ pain?”

Probably no good answer, without even considering “simple or accurate.” It has to do a lot with hubris–especially the sort of “innocent” deception we so easily tolerate among our friends. Part has to do with a limited world view and experience.

As the uncomfortably too-true joke goes: “What do you call a person who speaks three languages?” “tri-lingual”

“two languages?””bi-lingual”

“one language?” “American. . .”

Douglas Ashendorf, M.D. February 8, 2008 · 11:35 pm

I have been a pain management physician for twenty-two years, twenty of which were spent as a chronic pain patient. My experience as a patient ranged from bad to abysmal; I carry this with me to work each day as surely as any piece of equipment. At all times I at least attempt to give the kind of treatment that I would have wanted, personally, in my own darkest hours. Being a patient – and a father of one – was my own personal destiny, and one in which the development of empathy and spirituality was the only way to make sense of human misfortune and misery. It has changed my life utterly: surely personally and – I would like to think – professionally.

Douglas Ashendorf, M.D.

Eeva Ekker RN BSN MEd February 9, 2008 · 2:08 am

It is an excellent and enlightening experience for EVERY doctor to be on the “receiving” end. Chronic, unrelieved pain is still something that is poorly managed and “felt” by MD’s.
Prayer? You bet! It’s one of the most compassionate things I, as a nurse, can and do offer my patients. Body, mind and SPIRIT are all
connected; I knew that 35 yrs ago, as a nursing student. Now it’s finally getting credibility.

I think that’s why ‘witch doctors’ may have had a better education in illness than conventional doctors.

I can’t imagine why a person would be a psychiatrist without having experienced depression or other psychiatric symptoms. How could he understand what his patient’s were going through?

Mark Gary Blumenthal, MD, MPH February 9, 2008 · 7:51 am

I have practiced family medicine for nearly 20 years, first as full-time faculty in a family medicine residency program, then as a public health medical officer with the State of Tennessee.

I have experienced life-threatening illnesses twice in the past 10 years.

When I was diagnosed with vocal cord cancer last summer, I met with my personal physician, a close friend and professional colleague.

In discussing my illness, and the approach we would take to treating it, Larry shared his own personal experiences.

He said “When patients learn that they have serious illnesses, they often wonder ‘Why me?’ My attitude is different. I always ask myself ‘Why not me?'”

Larry’s compassionate and personal remark, echoing my own approach to life and practice as a physician, deeply moved and comforted me, and reminded me why my own patients have often told me how much they appreciate my willingness to approach them on their own terms.

Yes, experiencing serious illness can make doctors become better doctors. Thank you for this fine article.

Mark Gary Blumenthal, MD, MPH, Knoxville, TN

It’s interesting that a lot of the posts have mentioned aspects of care they received as patients that they formerly, as physicians, would “dismiss as unrelated to the outcome of the procedure” (to quote post #3)–things such as having a warm blanket laid over you before going into a frigid operating room, or securing a pillow when you’re flat on your back on a stretcher.

And yet not one of these posts has acknowledged that these seemingly “unimportant” gestures are the art and science of quality nursing nursing care. We know that the OR is kept at a colder temperature level so that the surgeons and nurses working under intense pressure and a lot of layers can be more comfortable. That’s why RNs use warming blankets on patients undergoing procedures.

We also know that people laid out in supine positions without a pillow can raise blood pressure and exacerbate orthopnea and increase risk for aspiration pneumonia, so we encourage side-lying positions with plenty of pillows to prop around the patient’s back and head.

So, please, feel free to post more about the wonderful nursing care you received when you were a patient, and how you now have a better appreciation for the nursing profession and all we do. The fact that you left that part out just perpetuates the popular myth that the “important” care provided in hospitals is that given by physicians, when we know that you know that it isn’t even a little bit true.

I’ve always thought doctors should experience some of the physical things involved in hospitalization… b-o-r-e-d-o-m, the dizziness of being moved on a guerney, sitting in a dirty wheelchair waiting for a test and urgently needing to use the bathroom, the awkwardness of using a bedpan and trying to get clean. It’s not that the docs shouldn’t order an x-rays or procedures, but one hopes they will know how the patient feels after the experience.

An adult suddenly confined to a bed experiences the loss of freedom,”Nurse I need to use the bathroom” being addressed in the third person, and the knowledge that the doctors are in a hurry while the patient is trying to figure out how to described how he feels and how it hurts…

For starters, try lying on your kitchen floor for a couple of hours and staring up at the lights while a fan blows cold air on your backside.

No kidding, doctors ignore fatigue. It took me 35 years and probably as many doctors to be diagnosed with narcolepsy. I was a textbook case–one of those rare people who had all the symptoms. I had been to several neurologists, not one of whom ever asked about my sleep or other symptoms relating to narcolepsy. Narcolepsy is as common as MS or Parkinson’s disease, but its cardinal symptom–excessive daytime sleepiness–is one that doctors dismiss.

I think this is a marvelous and much-needed book…but one thing that none of the posts above address is the incredible time-crunch both residents and attendings face to see patients. I am a fellow at a busy teaching hospital and one of my attendings aptly pointed out that as soon as a patient can stand up, they are out the door. Insurance companies and utilization committees have dramatically reduced the amount of time we have with our patients. It is a shameful reflection on the reimbursement scheme today which drive our hospitals and clinics–which pays the M.D. for procedures rather than thoughtful contemplation about a patient’s case. Those of us in thinking fields are penalized rather than rewarded for the very values integral to being a good diagnostician and listener.

Physicians are told to “empathize.” But it is really quite difficult.

When trying to get the history, I often explain that I am not in their body, and I need their words (and anything else) to try to understand what they experience(d). [The time frame may be especially important in diagnosis.] And, finding those words can be very difficult. (I was learning this skill of interviewing and doing physical examinations (PDog, in the vernacular) when I sought help about something as mundane as a (common) knee problem. Just thinking about how to describe this ailment according to the 7 standard parameters was daunting. But, as I also explain to patients, the retelling of the story also helps as some other aspect of the experience comes out or is recalled. Depending upon the relationship, the receiving end, this telling can also be aggravating or therapeutic.

As for training: my psychiatry med school rotation had almost daily seminars using literature. This can give a better sense of what the patient experiences. These were true wordsmiths, and often (as Styron) writing from experience. In some respects, that can be the closest I will get to actually experiencing what the patient may experience. But it is invaluable. Maybe more so than some of the “rounds” on the inpatient psychiatric unit.

With the time pressures imposed by the limited/miniscule insurance reimbursements, the physician too often want the Joe Friday story that reads like a board question – “A 44-year-old woman is evaluated for a 2-month history of increasing joint pain and swelling of the bilateral second and third metacarpophalangeal joints, wrists, metatarsophalangeal joints, and left ankle. Her symptoms are worse in the morning. She also has morning stiffness that lasts approximately 3 hours after awakening. She takes ibuprofen as needed with minimal relief. She has a 6-year history of a chronic rash limited to her knees but has never sought medical care for this condition.” The “payoff” for true empathy is in the doctor-patient relationship, not in financial terms (except via reputation.)

The current system treats the medical encounter, the doctor-patient relationship, as no different than your check out from the grocery store – as a commodity, each identical to the next, with throughput as the (only) parameter that counts. We are viewed as check lists, not experiences. (This applies to nurses as well as physicians. Nurses, especially in hospitals, now have a greater duty to assure that the JCAHO parameters are checked off, not that they minister to the patient. EMRs also enhance this: I note “agitated” is checked for overnight shift, not that the patient was calling for a family member and tried to get out of bed without assist.)

As a family doctor, I think the diagnosis is only partially accurate and the prescription is sometimes not realistic. Doctors and other health care professionals are well aware that being sick is a nasty business, but we’re often operating at the limits of human capacity. Some specialties have a workload and stress level similar to that of combat. This is no one’s fault-it is how the medical system is structured-in this society and other societies. And of course empathy is time-consuming. Educating doctors about empathy is a useful, relatively easy thing to do. But it is no magic bullet. If you want to change doctors’ behavior you must also change their situations, which will require more doctors, which in turn will require more money in the health care system.

I can’t tell you how many times I have said, “I bet that doctor would not do this.” Yes! I think physicians should undergo some experiences…for one, facedown recovery. After some eye operations, a gas bubble is inserted and you have to keep your face parallel to the floor for up to two weeks. They told me this had to be 24 hrs a day. The implication was that if my head came up, it would ruin this horrifying and disgusting surgery. I sent my frisky dog away and he was killed by a car. Later, I learned most top retina surgeons let you look up 5 mins of every hour. If they made doctors try a week of facedown, this would not have happened. This is just one example. I could name a dozen more. As for the nurse, who said we should really be talking about the great care nurses and their staffs give, I have had this go both ways. I have been yelled at by nurses! And I have had some who truly were angels who sneaked in.

thanks for another great piece. I do think it’s interesting that physicians express the feeling of resistance to disease. as a 2nd year medical student, all i see are my classmates variously coming down with arthritis, leukemia, HIV, pyelonephritis, rheumatic fever and benign prostatic hyperplasia. Not coincidentally, it’s always when we’re studying the given subject. (We’re currently doing a domestic abuse case, and not surprisingly, having an crass boyfriend is the disease du jour.) I wonder when the changeover happens, between thinking you have everything to thinking you will never get anything?