Flipped Script: When the Provider Becomes the Patient
Knowledge Informs. Experience Transforms.
“Just relax and take some deep breaths… in about 10 seconds you will feel the propofol kick in."
This time, it wasn’t me counseling a patient about the effects of a medication they were about to receive in the hospital. This time, I was the patient.
Before we get too far into this story, there are a few things you should know about me.
Up until this exact moment above, I had never undergone any type of surgery (well, besides a wisdom tooth extraction as a teenager and then laser eye surgery last summer… neither of which required general anesthesia).
As a clinical pharmacist who spent the first decade of my career working in hospitals, I have witnessed a multitude of surgeries, procedures, and life-altering events. From an intricate open heart surgery on a tiny infant to a laproscopic hysterectomy…from bone marrow biopsies and spinal taps to rapid sequence intubation and resuscitation events, I’ve witnessed a lot of intense medical situations. I have been in the room when a brand new human takes their very first inhale…and also in the room when a final, sacred exhale exits the body.
But none of those facts or experiences mattered as I laid there on the OR table last week, because this time I was the patient. There I was, feeling completely vulnerable - naked under a flimsy hospital gown, about to count backwards from 10 before I would literally be cut open. I only needed 10 seconds of insane courage. But for the first few seconds, sheer panic set in and my mind started rushing … 9. I know how this works…but…what if this doesn’t actually WORK? …8. I am still fully conscious, and everyone around me seems oblivious that I’m still awake. Breathe, Leigh. 7. Still here, alert and aware. Breathe. Ok, but what if… 6…. *walls closing in* 5. … … … …
Mere moments before, I had been joking with my nurse, who asked if I have ever experienced a reaction to anesthesia. “Well, it looks like we are about to find out…First timer here!” I proudly proclaimed. When my medical providers had asked me to confirm the procedure I would be undergoing, I said [jokingly] with a straight face, “tummy tuck and breast lift.” While my nurse giggled, my surgeon hadn't skipped a beat when he fired right back, “Oh, well I have you down for an appendectomy.”
Healthcare providers are human, too. And laughter is medicine. (Especially when you are nervous).
But why was I actually here on that OR table, counting down from 10? Well, HIPAA says I don’t have to tell you. But it’s my own story, so I will. I was having a benign tumor removed from my neck. Suffice it to say, my friendly little tumor needed to go; however, my main medical team wouldn’t touch it, due to the location and complex nerves involved. So, they sent me to a surgeon who knew my neck anatomy like the back of his… hand?
That day, I knew what I was getting myself into. I even chatted in detail with my anesthesiologist during pre-op about the specific medications in my anesthesia cocktail. So why was I suddenly SO anxious, laying there on that OR table?!
I was anxious because of this fact:
Knowing ABOUT something is not the same as experiencing something.
Of course, knowledge can be empowering. However, we can know all about a topic, and even witness other people experiencing it - but when it affects us personally? Different ballgame.
When it is me laying on that operating table, with medications being pumped into my veins, it doesn’t really matter what I know about as a pharmacist in that moment. When it is me in the hospital, I am no longer in control (but are we ever, really?!) I am not the one double checking the medication doses, verifying the infusion rates, or screening for drug interactions. I am vulnerable and at the mercy of the people who are in control.
That shift in power - from being knowledgeable to being completely vulnerable, left me thinking…
Just like there are a lot of things we know about in our jobs, there are also a lot of things we know about our neighbors in this world. We know the statistics. We’ve heard the stories. We can cite the issues surrounding poverty, healthcare, immigration, and injustice. We may even be actively involved in the causes we support. But until we have been on the other side of that equation, it’s hard to know what it actually feels like to be vulnerable, overlooked, or at the mercy of those in power.
Enter, the crucial role of empathy and compassion. Knowledge can inform, but connection and experience transforms. Loving our neighbors in this big, wide world means more than knowing about them. It means letting their experiences and stories and vulnerability transform us enough that it changes the way we see them - and the way we act.
Maybe the point isn't actually to know everything about the surgery ahead - or about the stranger, the foreigner, the neighbor next door. Maybe cutting through the surface to remove the underlying tumor (or underlying assumption) is just the beginning of seeing the humanity in our neighbor’s journey… and letting it call out the humanity in our own.
Deep breaths and counting down from 10,
Dr. Peek
P.S. Are you or someone you know a healthcare professional who found themselves on the “other side of the equation?” If you’re willing to share your story, I’d love to hear from you and include you in a future project. Shoot me an email at peekperspectives@gmail.com!