Theodore Roosevelt eloquently stated in a 1910 speech that “it is not the critic that counts, not the man the points out where the strong man stumbles or where the doer of deeds could have done them better; the credit belongs to the man who is actually in the Arena.” As an aspiring physician, prospective business owner, and current EMT, I live by these words and strive in every way to “do the deed,” especially as it relates to attaining experience in the medical field that I seek to lead. Recommended to me by a friend and former VIP, the Crossroad Volunteer Internship Program presents an excellent opportunity to learn about the non-clinical side of medicine—one that physicians are affected by but often poorly understand—without requiring excessive training or certification, so I leapt at the chance and matriculated into the program the first semester I was eligible.
One of my main goals during my internship was to gain an understanding of the barriers patients face in receiving adequate medical care, and indeed, I learned of several, including financial need, lack of transportation, busy work schedule, lack of child care, and sometimes just a lack of caring. The latter case is most significant and meaningful to me—as well as being one of the saddest—because it usually entails a patient simply advancing in years and deciding that his or her life is finished. Such patients often develop a mild condition that they let go for years without treatment, and when Crossroad’s physicians finally get the chance to address the condition, it has developed into a critical stage, and the job may then fall to VIPs to convince these patients to seek the specialist care they need.
My most meaningful patient interaction developed along these lines, but I remember that it started out unremarkably—my patient had multiple outstanding referrals, and like most of my calls, I assumed that he would be grateful for my help in scheduling his much-needed medical care. To my surprise, however, he informed me that he was tired of hospitals and would rather I “take him outside and burry him” than schedule even one more appointment, and he was about to hang up when I noticed in his chart that he was a veteran and decided to ask him what branch he had served in. My question had the intended effect: instead of ending the call, my patient realized that I had a genuine interest in him as a person and proceeded to tell me his life story—including that his wife had recently died in a hospital—giving me the clues I needed to discover that he now viewed hospitals as places of death, not of healing. Using this information and my previous experience, I was able to provide him with additional details about the care he would be receiving and convince him that medical care was in his best interest, ultimately prompting him to provide me with his availability and commit to attending his appointments.
I don’t know how my patient would have turned out without my words, but I hope that my small bit of caring and empathetic communication has helped to improve his quality of life. Indeed, I have learned that being an effective VIP—as well as an effective clinician—revolves around the ability to communicate, and I would advise new VIPs to make a measured and deliberate effort toward genuinely understanding each and every patient. No feeling is better than knowing your words have reshaped a person’s life, and no feeling is worse than watching a patient in need slip away, but in either case, learn, grow, and become better prepared for your next opportunity. Experience is truly the best teacher, so take on the hardest referrals, the most difficult patients, and the most challenging cases; become the man in the Arena, and when your time comes, you—and your patient—will win the game.
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