Month: March 2016

Categories
Emotion Opinion Poetry

A poem

With our white coats on we feel the aura of pressure.
Pressure to be professional, to act accordingly.
We walk through the hospital with our heads held high, knowing we have a duty.

Tossing our white coats aside, true personalities shine through.
Most are gleaming of kindness and enthusiasm to learn,
Others are tainted.
These souls strive to reach a level of professionalism behind their white cloak,
but fail to reach expectations while unhidden.

What I see frightens me,
because these individuals will one day be responsible for the lives of others.
They lie to professors to get what they want.
They come to mandatory sessions, only to depart minutes later.
They cheat.
They sell prescription drugs.
They abuse prescription drugs.
They get intimate in the study spaces.
They do it all with a cheerful face.

What I see frightens me,
because I never want to be like them.

What can be done?
I’ve tried to approach them,
it ended friendships.
Administration knows,
yet I see no change.

Perhaps most terrifying,
these individuals exist at all medical schools.
They hide amongst the rest of us,
polluting the image of our profession.

So here I stand, turning a blind eye,
but what can I do?
I can’t change the mindset of others.
I can’t change their actions.

I only hope they aren’t my doctor.

Featured image:
Rainbow pollution by gambler20

Categories
Emotion General

A Caution Against the Extinction of Emotion

“Well, you know, I was recently diagnosed with cancer,” my friend said lightly in the middle of a spirited conversation about the merits of eating organic vegetables. She smiled as though she had just mentioned a factoid about organic kale, and not told me something earth-shattering. She continued eating her lunch while I sat there slack-jawed, trying to arrange myself. So consumed was I with the news of the diagnosis, I cannot recall a single other thing that we discussed during that lunch.

Throughout medical school, our professors have often told us to “get comfortable with being uncomfortable.” Diligent student that I am, I believed I had mastered discomfort. I believed that no matter how difficult the patient or awkward the situation, I could muster up some empathy and manage to make that prized human-to-human connection that separates the clinicians from the caretakers.

It’s an illusion to believe that we are comfortable with discomfort if we only ever experience discomfort as physicians. In this unique profession of ours, we are prepared to meet strife and pain on a regular basis. Whether we are delivering bad news or seeing a struggling patient, discomfort is no stranger to us. It is essential, however, that we recognize the power imbalance inherent in these situations. As physicians, we are the ones delivering the bad news or offering advice to our patients. As such, we must come from the position of strength. I have also detected the unspoken expectation that no matter what awaits us when go through the door to see a patient, we must remain unchanged when we come back out the other side. While we empathize with our patients and do our best to help them, ultimately, once we step out of the examining room, that bad test result or unfortunate lifestyle choice is the patient’s emotional burden to carry forward, not ours. In other words, our professional responsibilities call upon us to maintain that misfortune as ‘other.’

Even as a student, I’m already seeing how challenging it can be to disentangle my professional identity from my personal life. In my professional life, I have cultivated a sort of empathetic stoicism that allows me to connect with patients ‘in the moment,’ and then quickly wash my emotions off and redirect my focus toward whatever task comes next. It’s a survival tactic that I suspect many of us have deployed. In our personal (non-professional) relationships, however, our identities as children, siblings, lovers, and friends must come before our identities as doctors. Unfortunately, the more time we spend practicing in our professional roles, the more difficult it seems to transition from professional to personal. In personal relationships, we cannot always anticipate when we’re going to receive news, either good or bad, but when we do, we cannot expect to go through the door and come back out unchanged.

In our professional lives, we’re expected to be compassionate but composed. We’re taught to deliver bad news, perform motivational interviewing, and deal with difficult patients, but I wonder where the line is between beneficial sensitivity training and detrimental emotional taming. Before we walk into an exam room, we read through the patient’s chart so we know what to expect, and this allows us to create a sort of comfortable discomfort to protect ourselves. I would argue that this emotional fortitude is not beneficial to all aspects of our lives. Emotions are sloppy—something  that doctors cannot afford to be—but I worry that if we don’t let our feelings bleed through the lines, emotional composure could pave the way for an extinction of feeling. After having lunch with my friend, I had felt frustrated with myself for being so stunned and scared by her news. I didn’t have the emotional composure that I would have with a patient, but that’s the key difference—loved ones are not patients. It’s a testament to our most intimate relationships to express our genuine feelings however uncomfortable they may be. Perhaps, as physicians, we need to work even harder to stay in touch with these feelings so that we never lose our ability to access them.

Featured image:
Feeling. by Javi Sánchez de la viña

Categories
General Lifestyle Reflection

New Job

Every 4 weeks I start a new job. New boss, new co-workers, new hours. This is both the curse and blessing of a medical student in the clinical years. There are some rotations I just can’t wait to end, while others I wish could go on all year. (If there are any of my preceptors reading this blog wondering which category they fit into, don’t worry, yours was definitely the one I wanted to continue forever!) Since I’m a non-traditional student, I had a few jobs over the years. For instance, I worked for a couple years as a civilian contractor for the military. I was doing stuff that sounded really important on paper but was perhaps a bit more mundane in real life. In those days, I knew career civil servants who had been doing the same thing for 30 years or more, sometimes scarcely moving from their desk. I cringed at the thought, but for them, 4 weeks was like a day, and even my entire 4 years of medical school would be seen as no time at all. In fact, one old curmudgeonly co-worker once consoled me after my project was shot down by a Colonel who was also our boss: “Don’t worry, we can get that done when the next guy comes along. These military guys move on after 3 years anyway.” I remember thinking, “In 3 years?! I’m not waiting that long!” It’s no wonder I don’t do that job anymore.

There have been other jobs along the way that have been equally confounding. My first job after grad school was at a non-profit science and tech operation. I was so excited about what I was doing; I thought I really was playing a big part in the volumes of analysis that they put out. Then, a couple months after I started, my boss took me out to lunch for Secretary’s Day, which I promise is a real thing. I sat there eating my meal in utter confusion. I was apparently an assistant, and I always thought I was an analyst.

I recently started a new rotation, my ninth “new job” since beginning my third year. Nowadays it takes me just a couple hours to figure out if it’s going in the good or not-so-good category. Luckily, this one seems to fit squarely in the former. It’s a clinic position, so I have to learn where everything is, and of course most importantly, who to talk to about lunch, as in if there will be any free meals and on which days. This office is used to medical students. I can tell because they made very little initial effort to welcome me. That’s not to say they weren’t nice, indeed they very much were. But there is a different mentality for those who see faces like mine come and go every month. They already know me to a degree, since I’m just the interchangeable body inside the same white coat, with the same 3 or 4 books stuffed into my pockets, and the same questions. They won’t waste their time unless I turn out to be “one of the good ones,” whatever that means.

Sometimes as I wander through all these positions as such a neophyte, I think, does a med student even matter? Are we contributing? The short answer is probably no, until you get that one patient who starts talking maybe just a bit more because the med student seems to have a little more time. Or that patient who feels better just from having been heard, or perhaps reveals some small detail that they didn’t tell anyone else.  Then, in those few moments, I don’t mind being new on the job. I remember that being new is not always a bad thing. In fact, occasionally it can come in handy.

Featured Image:
Lost? by Susanne Nilsson

Categories
Clinical Disability Issues Reflection

Asperger’s & Neurodiversity

“He who is different from me does not impoverish me – he enriches me. Our unity is constituted in something higher than ourselves – in Man… For no man seeks to hear his own echo, or to find his reflection in the glass.” 

–  Antoine de Saint-Exupery (11)

We live in a world of increasing diversity and acceptance. With more efficient travel, greater connections and more robust discrimination laws, never before have so many opportunities been laid out for us to endeavor. Women can vote, same-sex couples can marry; we are on the cusp of entering a new era. Yet amongst all these historical, cultural and economical changes, what we often forget is the psychological. If we are to accept people for who they are, with respect and dignity, then why do we then choose to label them with terms such as ‘Asperger’s’ or ‘Autistic’ and to then reduce the paths they may be able to follow?

What is Neurodiversity?

‘My brain is a jewel. I am amazed with the mind that I have.’ – Muskie, diagnosed with Asperger Syndrome (2)

In the late 1990s, sociologist Judy Singer invented the term neurodiversity; a term that described conditions such as Autism and ADHD (5). This neurodiversity movement was born out of the autistic civil rights movement in the 1990s, and has grown rapidly thanks to the internet. The movement consisted mainly of members who had been diagnosed with Asperger’s, but did not wish to be ‘cured.’ This perspective, a step away from the mainstream method of  categorization, led to books (12) and articles (13) being written, the launching of groups such as the Autism Self Advocacy Network, and a novel  perspective of human thinking.

Neurodiversity is a term very similar to cultural or biological diversity; it takes into account the wide variety of human experiences, and respects people for their differences. Such an approach steps away from the medical model of viewing disability, instead focusing on the talents and perspective that each person can bring to the world. The implications of such a movement are widespread; the right to be treated with respect and dignity, regardless of the way one thinks.

What is Autism?

‘Autism is pervasive, colors every experience, every sensation, perception, thought, emotion, and encounter, every aspect of existence’ – autistic activist Jim Sinclair, 1993 (2)

Autism is found under Pervasive Developmental Disorders in the International Classification of Diseases-10. The criteria listed include impairment in social communication and social attachments (6). First used in 1910 by a Swiss Psychiatrist named Bleuler, it was transformed into its modern-day meaning in 1944 by the Austrian paediatrician Hans Asperger, when he published its first definition. The disorder has been termed Asperger’s Syndrome ever since (7).

Since its first use, the incidence of Autism has increased, leading to increased public attention both in the media and within the medical circle (1). This gradual increase has often led to the question: is this a disease of biology, or of society? Indeed, as our society has become more medicalized, Autism has entered into an era fixated with treatment and cure.

What is ‘normal’?

By continuing to medicalize a different way of looking at the world and of interacting with others, we must first define what it means to have a ‘normal’ perspective of such things.

This question brings to light the very fact that no one is normal. From the way we dress, to the jobs we undertake. From our hobbies to our distractions, our loves to our hates, our desires to our ventures, we are all different. How do we then take out our marking pen and draw a line between those who are ‘normal’ and those who are not? In fact, from an ‘autistic’ point of view, people who are non-autistic are easily distractible, obsessed with social interaction and suffer from profound deficits in attention to detail. The idea of normality changes with time, place, date and gender; what is normal here in the UK may well be considered unacceptable in Sub-Saharan Africa.

Rather than focusing on the normal, we should be focusing on individuality; on what each person can contribute to our society, and to themselves. This boundary between normality and disability is an artifact, a division drawn by man that merely reflects the values of the society in which he resides. For example, dyslexia is based upon our value to read sufficiently, something that would  not have been as significant hundreds of years ago. So what does our medicalization of Autism tell us about ourselves?

As the modern era continues to be transformed by technology, perhaps what we build in the future –with the internet in our laps and a screen at every corner – will become a haven for those who have difficulty with eye contact and with body language. The diagnosis of Autism today may well be different from the diagnosis tomorrow.

Is Autism an identity or a disease?

In the absence of any biomarkers for diagnosing psychiatric illnesses, psychiatry often utilizes behavioural deviations instead (4). Using this argument, one could suggest that psychiatry may end up ignoring advantageous behaviors that are outside the ‘norm’ (4). What we may see instead are the difficulties that entrench a person. Rather than encouraging a young child to develop their interests and their hobbies, instead we may focus purely on their intense obsessions on the minutest details. Imagine what this means for a child. Instead of being seen as a building block of opportunities for ideas and growth, these children may instead see themselves as having un-breakable boundaries.

Yet, a label can have a lot of power. A diagnosis places upon the person a special status within society. It opens the doorway to specialist interventions and support from multiple sectors, helping the individual to succeed in certain areas of life that they may find more demanding than others.

There are clearly many things that children with Asperger’s have difficulty with; areas where they require intensive support and management. It is through these interventions that children may then be able to better integrate with society and feel valued. But the idea of finding a cure seems a step too far. As science continues to delve into our lives, we gradually begin to see everything with a different lens; that there must be pathology in everything that is different, and there must be an answer – a pill, an operation, a test.

But it is not all bad. The medical model has brought with it huge shifts within science – new drugs, new insights and a new life for many, many people. By medicalizing something, by using physiology to explain a condition, you are then able to destigmatize it. Thus, a person is no longer a schizophrenic, but instead suffers from schizophrenia – a disease entity of its own.

Whether or not such a viewpoint can be used for a diagnosis such as Autism is a difficult question to answer. For some, the explanation that Autism is an ‘atypical wiring of the brain’ (2) may help them to understand the difficulties that they face. Yet others may strongly identify with such a diagnosis, claiming that it is a gift that allows them to view the world through a different lens, giving them the opportunity to appreciate the depths of the human mind. They may choose to see themselves not as pathological, as wiring gone wrong, but as privileged beings who have been granted a gift of insight that others cannot fully appreciate.

Different vs Defective

As with many things in life, Autism falls on a spectrum. One could argue that by focusing on those who are high-functioning, and therefore able to have this debate, you are minimizing the true suffering of those who do not have this privilege. Indeed it can be argued that because it is on a spectrum, one should be careful not to blanket everyone with Autism as either having a ‘disability’ or simply being ‘high-functioning.’ The aim is to view Autism with a more open mind, rather than as something that requires a gene to be unlocked. This has received appreciation by the American Psychiatric Association, who recently converted the diagnoses of ‘Autism’ and ‘Aspergers’ into one simple diagnosis of ‘Autism Spectrum Disorder.’ Through the creation of this diagnosis, the emphasis has been placed on the idea that people do not fit into boxes, but lie upon a continual line that can encompass a wide range of behaviour.

Neurodiversity is the idea that neurological differences such as Autism are due to normal variation, rather than a sign of pathology. This point of view emphasises the fact that these people do not necessarily need to be ‘cured’ but helped and accommodated. If we look at the progression of science and the humanities, we see that the breakthroughs have been developed by minds that think differently; create links where others have drawn their blinds. If we are to grow as human beings, then this is the approach that is required; not just to grow scientifically, but also morally. Unfortunately, we are currently drawn towards questions of causation and cure – the link between Autism and MMR by Wakefield being just one example (8); an attempt to find blame, and ask the question: why is my child the way he/she is?

And to people with these conditions themselves, surely the idea of being part of a natural variation is much more appealing than being seen as something that is broken and needs to be ‘fixed.’ To describe someone as defective is to take away the essence of who that person is, and what they can bring to the world, to their family, to themselves.

Instead of creating a world focused on finding cures, on ridding the world of autism, we should be building the foundations to allow people to receive the support they deserve, to have their rights heard. Such efforts include early interventions for speech and behavior therapies, and building more accommodating home and work environments.

If we are to accept the fact that equality has been applied to race, religion, gender and sexual orientation, then why can it not be applied to people with different ways of thinking and interacting as well?

We are already seeing glimmers of this in our current society. Mark Haddon’s novel, The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time, written from the point of view of a young boy with Autism, helps readers to transcend their lives and view the world from eyes that see differently, a mind that whirs at a different tone. This novel  is studied by English students across the UK (9), and perhaps by encouraging these types of empathetic endeavours, rooted in the humanities rather than the sciences, a new way of thinking can be formed, where we can focus on acceptance rather than on cure.

‘An autistic child can only be helped if a serious attempt is made to see the world from his point of view.’ (10)

References

  1. Baker, D.L. 2006. Neurodiversity, neurological disability and the public sector: notes on the autism spectrum. Disability & Society. 21:15-29
  2. Ortega, F. The Cerebral Subject and the Challenge of Neurodiversity. 4:425-445
  3. Jaarsma, P., Welin, S. 2012. Autism as a Natural Human Variation: Reflections on the Claims of the Neurodiversity Movement. Health Care Analysis. 20:20-30
  4. Kapp, S.K., Fillespie-Lynch, K., Sherman, L.E., Hutman, T. Deficit, Difference, or Both? Autism and Neurodiversity. Develeopmental Psychology. 49:59-71
  5. Silberman, S. 2013. Neurodiversity reqires conventional thinking about brains [Online]. Available at: http://www.wired.com/2013/04/neurodiversity/ [Accessed: 1st January 2016]
  6. World Health Organisation. 2016. ICD-10: International statistical classification of diseases and related health problems. Geneva: World Health Organisation
  7. McGuinness, S. 2015. History of Autism [Online]. Available at: http://www.autismuk.com/home-page/history-of-autism/ [Accessed: 1st January 2016]
  8. Godlee, F., Smith, J., Marcovitch, H. 2011. Wakefield’s article linking MMR vaccine and autism was fraudulent. The British Medical Journal. 342:c7452
  9. 2013. Subject Content [Online]. Available at: http://www.aqa.org.uk/subjects/english/aqa-certificate/english-literature-8710/subject-content/why-choose [Accessed: 1st January 2016]
  10. Stanton, M. 2006. What is Neurodiversity? [Online]. Available at: https://mikestanton.wordpress.com/my-autism-pages/what-is-neurodiversity/ [Accessed: 1st January 2016]
  11. Evans, T. 2015. Counselling Skills for Becoming a Wiser Practitioner: Tools, Techniques and Reflections for Building Practice Wisdom. Jessica Kingsley Publishers.
  12. Silberman, S. 2015. NeuroTribes: The Legacy of Autism and the Future of Neurodiversity. Avery
  13. Solomon, A. 2008. The Autism Rights Movement [Online]. Available at: http://nymag.com/news/features/47225/ [Accessed: 28th January 2016]

Featured image:
Diversity by Séb

Categories
Emotion General Reflection

What We Carry

I recently stumbled upon an entry on another blogging site I follow, featuring a piece by Pamela Wible, MD. She’s a family physician who recently published Physician Suicide Letters — Answered. She also gave a moving TEDx Talk last year where she spoke about the four hundred physicians (and medical students) who commit suicide each year. She discussed some of the stressors physicians face, like losing income to hospital overhead or working incredibly long hours. Her unhappiness in the field motivated her to start what she calls an Ideal Medical Care practice.

After listening to this talk and looking into ordering her book, ironically, I felt kind of depressed. As a pre-med student, I was always so excited to become a doctor. I think I glorified this career choice for a long time, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing. As I’ve made my way through my first two years of medical school, I’ve experienced some of the heavy burdens that we can endure by choosing this career path. Long hours of studying, high-stakes exams and, ultimately, the responsibility of another human’s life.

These same stressors can be applied to many other rigorous fields. I’m sure law students spend countless hours reading up on cases. Engineers might make a decision that has a lasting impact on whether someone lives or dies in a car accident. So why does the medical field have such an epidemic of suicide on its hands?

One of the main differences I see between professional fields is the proximity medical providers have to death. I’ve become quite confused on how exactly we are supposed to grieve. Many medical students have heard that in the past you weren’t supposed to show emotion and to separate yourself from death when a patient passes. Obviously, the sentiment has changed and the values we instill in future physicians are different, but I don’t think our coping skills have drastically improved.

As early as the pre-medical years, students in this field encounter death. I worked in a cadaver lab in college where I was intimately exposed to death in a way I had never dealt with before. As first-year medical students, it becomes easy to forget our cadavers are human bodies, and in the clinical years, in the hospital, death is everywhere.

When will we stop to cope? Can we take a week off to grieve when we experience death? Will our superiors understand why we seem “off”? When you deal with death on a frequent basis, it’s easier to forget. We bury the emotions that we carry. However, keeping things in and not going through a proper grieving process can be detrimental to our health and well-being. It’s important for medical providers to understand the weight of death that we carry and its effect on our own mental health.

In my opinion, teaching proper grieving and allowing medical students time to cope would be a useful addition to the medical school curriculum. This might even lower the suicide rates in our field. The things that lead someone to commit suicide are ultimately multi-factorial, but I think this is one way we can try to improve these numbers.

Featured image:
sunrise and silence by x1klima