I had an experience recently with a very nice medical professional and his staff which brought up afresh an old issue, which others may encounter when dealing with doctors or dentists: listening to the patient. To be brief: The doctor’s clinical skills are excellent; the staff does their job with dispatch; and the problem is actually, if finally, addressed well, a good end result.
Along the way, however, the hapless client-of-service is rendered a) exasperated b) angry c) despairing d) desperate to find a human being instead of what sounds like a boarding school headmaster on the phone.
As a confession, I have experienced all of these states – not caused by the medical professional himself or herself, but by those long-suffering ladies in flat shoes who sit at the front desk as assistants.
These earnest women may also have had professional training – or not – and, like their employers, must deal with everything from wailing toddlers to cantankerous old crocks over 70 (me), who wonder why nothing we say seems to penetrate the wall between those whose job is to control pain and those who are experiencing it.
I once worked with a greatly respected neurosurgeon. He was an icicle in the OR, but a kind boss, who knew when to depersonalize and when to offer patients comfort. Above all, he listened.
Front desk ladies, however, seem sometimes unable to do this, and their average age is ... perhaps 30? Twenties maybe? Mine, of course, isn’t, so perhaps this is a generational issue. More likely however, it is a matter of “No Clue.”
Let me explain: As a communication coach of many seasons, I am well aware of differences in the voice of a genuinely caring person and someone anxious to be rid of one caller and on to the next – or off to lunch. The flat, cool sound, sometimes delivered in talk-over as if the caller were an idiot child or voice mail machine, is hard to miss.
We’ve all heard it. In fairness, such a speaker probably fields 40 calls a day from patients, each with definite concerns, and we must all sound distressingly alike by about 3 p.m. Hence, the thinly veiled “Hey, I’m working on it – now go away,” is the loud and clear message which comes through the phone.
We get it. Never a shy violet, I have sometimes tried to pull rank (I’m much older than you) or do a bit of teaching before dismissal. No avail. The disembodied presence at the distant medical office intones instructions, exhortations to patience, explanations of why one cannot be seen by the professional until next July, etc.
Meanwhile, the hapless patient (me, or perhaps you, or your mother) on the receiving end of the line is left trying to explain that, yes, there is pain; no, I’m not out of meds, there are two left; and this has dragged on for three weeks, already, please have the doctor call ... so sorry, we handle all his calls. Or hers. And anyway, they never work on Thursdays. Is this gap in perception bridgeable?
Having been on the disappointing (read: powerless) end of such exchanges a few times, I can report the following: 1) The patient hangs up, having conveyed facts of her situation, but realizing that she has neither been heard nor seen as a person. 2) The employee’s view of patient-as-yet-another-problem has been clearly conveyed. You are an aching tooth or a diagnostic issue to us – not a human being. 3) The employee crisply hangs up, thinking she has done her job well and jots down a note which she may remember to give to the doctor next Monday. 4) Control remains firmly in the hands of the medical office representative, and the patient remains forcibly subservient, with no voice or options but to: 5) Accept this with good grace and no complaints, or 6) Hunt for another doctor or dentist whose staff sees patients as people, not annoyances, in the vain expectation that this will be so.
My friend Dr. Phyllis Hollenbeck wrote a book addressing some of these issues called “Sacred Trust: The Ten Rules of Life, Death and Medicine,” which every person who works in a clinic, dental office or hospital should be required to read. It presents the patient (us) as a real person, worth hearing and being treated with dignity, and having needs for healing beyond diabetic management, spiking blood pressure or an aching tooth.
Madam Front Desk Lady, however, may be unlikely to comprehend this until she has the same issues herself. God bless her.
Linda Berry is a Northsider.
