They Inform Me the Craft of the Physician Resides in the Sewing of Skin
In the solitude of an examination space, where the walls embrace murmurs of numerous ailments and aspirations, the craft of the physician commences. It’s not solely in the sewing of skin, where threads intertwine to mend the visible, nor only in the interpretation of shadows on X-rays, those spectral indicators that silently disclose. It’s discovered in decoding numbers that parade across a medical chart, each figure a note in the intricate melody of the human body. Indeed, there is expertise. The surgeon’s unwavering hand, the diagnostician’s keen eye, and the scholar’s reliable memory for pathways and procedures all unite here.
Yet a question lingers in this sterile environment—where within a brief 20-25 minutes lies the art that eludes quantification or coding? It resides in the fleeting stillness of listening, where the burden of one individual’s narrative is gently placed in another’s hands—a sacred exchange of the spoken and the unspoken.
The doctor, amid this, retreats and progresses like a pendulum, swinging from room to room, propelled by the metronome of time, not the patient’s misunderstood and anxious heartbeat across from him. Time, not compassion, now dictates the tempo. Faces blend, narratives transform into echoes, and trust—the delicate bridge between physician and patient—remains unfinished, akin to art left incomplete.
Is this medicine? Or a cog in the corporate machinery, meticulously lubricated for profit, swiftly guiding patients through a well-rehearsed assembly line? I recall an earlier era, a time when physicians filled the warmth of your home, seated at the kitchen table, perceiving not just the cough in your chest but the worry in your voice—the dual essence of medicine and humanity.
When healing was not merely about identifying a cure—it encompassed care, a belief in another individual, taking the time to recognize, to genuinely see.
Have we lost perspective on the true nature of effective medicine? Effective medicine cannot flourish in the impersonal corridors of efficiency. No, it resides in a gaze that lingers, a question articulated twice, a pause that allows for a challenging narrative, and in the hand that not only closes wounds but opens pathways to trust.
The sutures, the scans, the charts—they are simply instruments, tools of the trade. Genuine healing springs from the nurturing bond forged between patient and physician—a connection where the patient feels genuinely seen and heard, and the doctor listens, both working towards health’s harmony. Medicine reaches its zenith when a patient comprehends they are not traversing this journey alone.
Michele Luckenbaugh, a patient advocate, subtly and poignantly reminds us that in the field of medicine, human connection is the foundation from which healing emerges.