Only Anecdotal

Back last fall, when my mom had experienced another frustrating exchange with her primary care physician, she announced her plan of action.

“He never listens. I am going to bring this up at the next appointment.”

At that appointment, my mom swiftly asked her doctor, “Do you like me?”

I was taken aback by the question, and I believe the doctor was, as well. In talking to someone else about her concerns, my mom had learned of personal tragedies in her doctor’s life. Perhaps that explained his inattention, she thought. Or maybe it was true that he just didn’t like her much.

My mom was a difficult case, in many ways. An order to cut back on salt that she received in the hospital seemed so overdue that we wondered if it really was the first time she had heard it. She had given up smoking, albeit pretty late in the game. Her lifestyle was not an active one, comforted as she was by being home, immersed in a book,  or Downton Abbey… damned be exercise. Noncompliant, I am sure.

But aren’t we all? I mean, really. There is such a big relief in getting past that encounter with any authority… you know? those days, or weeks, behaving as we are supposed to… not necessarily to be healthier, or better in some other way, but to avoid the scolding (or worse). And then, we walk out, free at last… this is the problem with the relationship that even entertains the notion of  “compliance”.

And as I have said so many times before, compliance may be more a question of feasibility. If an individual cannot afford the prescribed medication, how will he be able to follow the doctor’s orders? If she cannot get to the doctor’s office because a ride never shows up, how can she avoid being a “no-show”? If I do not understand why you want me to change a habit, if the reasons you give me seem so intangible, why would I give up something I love, or start something I dislike? And speaking of this, why should I trust you at all?

I am very sure–have felt it myself at times–that what doctors perceive as noncompliance may indeed be just that: stubborn refusal to follow orders. In my mom’s case, I know that it was hard for her (though she did it anyway) to make the trips to the lab for endless blood tests for a doctor who seemed to dislike her, and who also seemed to have no notion of why these trips into the lab were so taxing on her. It is hard, after a bad–or even traumatically pointless–experience, to return to the doctor who started it, and have faith in the advice (or orders) that this doctor, or any doctor sometimes, hands out.

It is clear in this year that the climate is changing enormously. There is a much more noise now about the need to take the consumer’s point of view seriously. Is it real? Slowly getting to real, yes, I think it is. How can we make healthcare easier? How can we deliver care more conveniently, and effectively, not just for the professionals, but for the people who seek the care? I see people from the home care world now popping up at technology-related events where I never saw them a year ago. Social workers will cover the hospital not just during weekdays, but at night, on weekends, so that people who end up there will always have the opportunity to talk to someone about the realities of life, no matter when they are in the hospital. Can we afford continuity of care? I hope that we see the error of years of neglect, at the real costs of constantly cutting out the human contact in favor of the urgent, impersonal procedures. It is time that we need more–time for listening, and for actual, physical help–and smarter ways to figure out how to create more connections, not fewer.