Delivering Care

Marisa-Nicole Zayat, MS4, Class of 2024

“Patients do not care how much you know until they know how much you care,” my dad, a physician, told me as I started my clinical rotations. These words have echoed through my head during many patient encounters.

During my obstetrics and gynecology clerkship, I assisted on Jane’s cesarean-section. In awe of the surgeon’s skills, I carefully observed as the team operated. The skin and fascia were dissected, the uterus was exposed, the baby was delivered and immediately whisked by the NICU team out of the room, and Jane was sutured layer by layer. The operation was uncomplicated, so the surgeons went to their next procedure. Jane was left alone, lying on a narrow, cold OR table. I heard her say, “it hurts, goodness, it hurts so bad.” I wiped her tears and gently held her hand while providing comfort and reassurance. It was all that I could do. The next day I could not stop thinking about Jane. I felt compelled to check on her, and she welcomed me with a sadness in her eyes—she could not visit her baby in the NICU since she was non-ambulatory. I offered to take a video of Lucy, which we watched together. Tears rolled from Jane’s eyes, but these were different; these were tears of joy. The following day during rounds, I found Jane to be distraught. She had to send her older kids to her parents in Missouri since she did not know when she was going to be discharged. “I don’t know when I will see my kids next,” she shared. Tears of helplessness streamed down her face. I encouraged her to share her concerns with the medical team. I let my attending know about the situation, and he reassured her that she would be dismissed in the next day or two. When I reported when she would be reunited with Lucy and the rest of her family, she was relieved and finally beamed with delightful hope.

Another patient encounter comes to mind when reflecting on lessons of empathy in medicine. Sarah, a 24-year-old, was admitted for labor, which was complicated by fetal bradycardia. She was quickly rushed to C-section, leaving her mother behind to wonder what might happen next. I stayed by her mother’s side and comforted her during this time of uncertainty. Six months later, my dad came home, excitedly announcing that one of his patients told him that she had met me while her daughter was delivering. She shared the story and told him that I was very kind, compassionate, and made them feel at ease. What a privilege for me to be there, I thought to myself.

As a physician-in-training, I feel honored, humbled, and grateful as patients allow me into their lives at times of vulnerability and need. Medicine is truly the art of healing, for health is the product of a nourished body, spirit, and mind. My dad’s words seem to echo even more true as I further my training. What distinguishes an outstanding physician is the empathy and compassion that they have for their colleagues and patients—caring makes all the difference.

Delayed Delivery

Azeez Baig, MS3, Class of 2025

Heading into my last shift of labor and delivery, I took some time to reflect on what many of my fellow colleagues and superiors have described as one of the most distinct memories of their medical education. Whether it was the adaptability necessary to complement the unpredictable nature of labor, the privilege to share the momentous experience of childbirth with families, or the multidisciplinary team all working towards a common goal, the labor and delivery unit served as a reservoir of education not only limited to academic, but personal growth.

My reflection was abruptly suspended, as I entered the workroom and was met with a board demonstrating nearly every bed full with laboring mothers. Shortly after, our triage beds also reached capacity. A lively start had already begun for myself and the rest of the night team.

The prior shifts leading up to this night were busy, but steady. Tonight was unlike any prior night. The amount of births that occurred over an entire night was the amount of births we had completed just a few hours in. As I bounced between triage, deliveries, and cervical checks, there was a constant amidst the exuberance. One patient I was following was scheduled to have a non-emergent c-section, and other laboring mothers with concerning monitoring led to her waiting hours longer than anticipated. Prior to entering the room, I could hear a flurry of Spanish between a few family members, and could sense uneasiness. In addition to the patient, I was met by her parents and the father, who was particularly vocal. He expressed frustration with the delay, questioning whether we had forgotten about his wife. A day as unparalleled as the birth of one’s child should proceed exactly how a mother envisions, and feeling forgotten is the last emotion we want our patients to associate with their experience. Acknowledging their frustrations, I apologized for the time spent wondering about our commitment to their care. Explaining the volatility of the service, including the urgency of delivering some mothers with concerning fetal monitoring and the shortage of team members, I saw the irritation dissipate from the room. As they thanked us before leaving, I was met with a wave of understanding and appreciation, a stark contrast from the initial energy in the room.

Experiences like this not only remind me of the privilege I have to study medicine, but also emphasize the values I hope to uphold as a future provider. While there is a standard of mastery of clinical medicine that I expect of myself, the physician-patient relationship is the foundation upon which all high-quality care is built. Accountability is a powerful tool to establish rapport with patients and, consequently, trust. Providers across disciplines are accustomed to the unpredictable nature of healthcare, where delays in care can be perceived as part of the ebb and flow of medicine. For patients, each tick of the clock can create a lasting memory, shaping their perception and relationship with healthcare.

While providers cannot alter the inherent unpredictability of medicine or the policies guiding their practice, they wield significant influence over a crucial domain – their mindset. Embracing this allows us to harness the unquantifiable facets of medicine that profoundly impact patient care. Elements such as active listening, genuine acknowledgment, and the conscientious avoidance of paternalism become potent tools within our grasp, enabling us to elevate the human dimension of healthcare.

As my last shift in the unit came to an end, my aforementioned suspended reflection resumed. However, I found myself far from my initial train of thought. Rather, I was left pensive, fixed on that patient. What I learned, the deliveries, the team, the clinical knowledge, was blurred by how I felt. The gratefulness, appreciation, and empowerment emanating from that patient served as the epitome of the type of health care I hope to provide for my patients. With the various players that comprise the team of healthcare, I strive to put my patients voice at the forefront, recognizing the impact of emotions on experience.