Grand-patients
When you have practiced in the same community for nearly three decades, it is not uncommon to encounter many old patients. Over the last six years, I have limited my primary care practice to children exclusively.
Although I enjoyed taking care of patients from cradle to grave in family practice, I do not miss dealing with elderly patients who come in with a bag full of medicines from six different doctors. I would like to retire from clinical medicine in about ten years, so I want my remaining years to be fun. Kids are fun and I love every day at my clinic. They help keep me younger.
On the day of my 50th birthday (five years ago if you are interested), I went up to the front desk to make a copy. A mother was setting up an appointment for her daughter for a kindergarten physical. The mother instantly became excited and stared at me. "Do you remember me?" "No", I responded. "Why not? She asked. You did my kindergarten physical!" That was a nice reminder that I have been doing this a long, long time.
In my clinic, I have many grand-patients. I can't take credit for this coined word. I borrowed it from another pediatrician who practiced for more years than me in the same office. I take care of the children of my former baby-sitter of my children, the kids of dozens and dozens of kids that I took care of from the last 1970's on. It is really great.
My wife is also a PA that still works in family practice. She gets to take care of the parents and grandparents; I get most of the kids. Yesterday, my wife performed an exam on a woman who recognized the last name. When she inquired if my wife was somehow related to Rod Moser, she was thrilled to discover that I worked in pediatrics now. She made appointments for her two children with me next week. What an honor and privilege it is to care for two (and soon to be three) generations of patients.
Years ago, I would periodically cover the practice of a really old pediatrician who did not know the meaning of retirement. He was over 90 years old then and still rode his bike to work. I walked in to see one of his patients one day only to discover that this child was 34 years old! Not that I have any trouble seeing adult patients, but it kind of shocks you when are expecting a little one sitting on the table.
At first, I looked under the table (a favorite hiding spot of kids), but then I was told the HE was the patient. He had been seeing this doctor for his entire life and had intention of changes. His medical chart was HUGE and I was absolutely thrilled to read about his potty-training and ear infections as a child. What better compliment for a medical provider than this type of loyalty. It is only now that I realize how special these generational patients are.
Busy primary care clinicians see several thousand patients per year and it is difficult to remember all of them unless our memories are jogged by chart entries. However, there are those special patients; the ones that touch your heart (or your funny bone) that you will always remember.
I tend to forget names and often fail to remember family connections, but I always remember the diagnosis, strange as that seems. Perhaps my failure to associate names to the diagnoses has something to do with patient confidentiality. Medical providers are often like Catholic priests hearing confession, so it is good that we do not associate both the person and the sin (or disease, in our case).
Needless to say, some of our patients become family. We see them in grocery stores or at the hardware store where I look more like a homeless man than a medical provider. They come up to us at a restaurant and tell us that the medication worked fine and they are back to work again. We offer a friendly nod and acknowledge their appreciation, but as soon as they are out of earshot, we often puzzled by who they were and what we did to make them better. The good news is that it worked. I would certainly hate to have my meal interrupted by someone complaining about my care, or a medicine that caused them to get diarrhea.
My first physician partner used to hide little codes on the chart jacket, like DW for "doctor's wife" or TM for "trouble-maker", or worse. During my more naive years of practice, he once asked me to take over the care of Mrs. Jones who had a consistently "high porcelain level". I had no idea what he meant until I took over her care.
A high porcelain level meant that he thought she was a crock. Crock or not, I found Mrs. Jones a delightful and interesting person, and a source of many great stories. It is a bit unprofessional to make fun of odd patients, but often we do it anyway. Besides, they make fun of us. Ever hear any of those doctor jokes?
I look forward to caring for my grand-patients for many years to come. I try to be nice to all children, because someday one of them will be taking care of me in a nursing home and help me sort through my bag of medicines.
Related Topics: 7 Key Traits of the Ideal Doctor, Choosing a Doctor
Technorati Tags: medical practice, pediatrics, primary care
Although I enjoyed taking care of patients from cradle to grave in family practice, I do not miss dealing with elderly patients who come in with a bag full of medicines from six different doctors. I would like to retire from clinical medicine in about ten years, so I want my remaining years to be fun. Kids are fun and I love every day at my clinic. They help keep me younger.
On the day of my 50th birthday (five years ago if you are interested), I went up to the front desk to make a copy. A mother was setting up an appointment for her daughter for a kindergarten physical. The mother instantly became excited and stared at me. "Do you remember me?" "No", I responded. "Why not? She asked. You did my kindergarten physical!" That was a nice reminder that I have been doing this a long, long time.
In my clinic, I have many grand-patients. I can't take credit for this coined word. I borrowed it from another pediatrician who practiced for more years than me in the same office. I take care of the children of my former baby-sitter of my children, the kids of dozens and dozens of kids that I took care of from the last 1970's on. It is really great. My wife is also a PA that still works in family practice. She gets to take care of the parents and grandparents; I get most of the kids. Yesterday, my wife performed an exam on a woman who recognized the last name. When she inquired if my wife was somehow related to Rod Moser, she was thrilled to discover that I worked in pediatrics now. She made appointments for her two children with me next week. What an honor and privilege it is to care for two (and soon to be three) generations of patients.
Years ago, I would periodically cover the practice of a really old pediatrician who did not know the meaning of retirement. He was over 90 years old then and still rode his bike to work. I walked in to see one of his patients one day only to discover that this child was 34 years old! Not that I have any trouble seeing adult patients, but it kind of shocks you when are expecting a little one sitting on the table.
At first, I looked under the table (a favorite hiding spot of kids), but then I was told the HE was the patient. He had been seeing this doctor for his entire life and had intention of changes. His medical chart was HUGE and I was absolutely thrilled to read about his potty-training and ear infections as a child. What better compliment for a medical provider than this type of loyalty. It is only now that I realize how special these generational patients are.
Busy primary care clinicians see several thousand patients per year and it is difficult to remember all of them unless our memories are jogged by chart entries. However, there are those special patients; the ones that touch your heart (or your funny bone) that you will always remember.
I tend to forget names and often fail to remember family connections, but I always remember the diagnosis, strange as that seems. Perhaps my failure to associate names to the diagnoses has something to do with patient confidentiality. Medical providers are often like Catholic priests hearing confession, so it is good that we do not associate both the person and the sin (or disease, in our case).
Needless to say, some of our patients become family. We see them in grocery stores or at the hardware store where I look more like a homeless man than a medical provider. They come up to us at a restaurant and tell us that the medication worked fine and they are back to work again. We offer a friendly nod and acknowledge their appreciation, but as soon as they are out of earshot, we often puzzled by who they were and what we did to make them better. The good news is that it worked. I would certainly hate to have my meal interrupted by someone complaining about my care, or a medicine that caused them to get diarrhea.
My first physician partner used to hide little codes on the chart jacket, like DW for "doctor's wife" or TM for "trouble-maker", or worse. During my more naive years of practice, he once asked me to take over the care of Mrs. Jones who had a consistently "high porcelain level". I had no idea what he meant until I took over her care.
A high porcelain level meant that he thought she was a crock. Crock or not, I found Mrs. Jones a delightful and interesting person, and a source of many great stories. It is a bit unprofessional to make fun of odd patients, but often we do it anyway. Besides, they make fun of us. Ever hear any of those doctor jokes?
I look forward to caring for my grand-patients for many years to come. I try to be nice to all children, because someday one of them will be taking care of me in a nursing home and help me sort through my bag of medicines.
Related Topics: 7 Key Traits of the Ideal Doctor, Choosing a Doctor
Technorati Tags: medical practice, pediatrics, primary care
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