“Show him the door,” my attending said, motioning his arms outwardly like an usher.
“What do you mean?” I asked. “The patient’s upset with my care. Shouldn’t I try to fix it?”
“Have you given him the best care you can?”
I nodded. For this patient, I’d emptied the pharmacologic cabinet and fired the therapeutic cannon.
“Sometimes Ryan, people need to be given a choice. Tell him he’s welcome to seek a second opinion. Give him three names today.”
“Where do I get the names?
“Doesn’t matter”—his arms ushered outward again—”Just show him the door.”
I arrived at my furniture wit’s end this week. I’d done my best, and for what my client wanted, that wasn’t enough. While I spoke with her on the phone, I thought of my attending, then heard myself say, “You know, it sounds like you might be looking for something that I can’t provide, but I bet there’s someone else in town who could provide what you want. Would you like some names?”
In the end, the client stayed, as did my patient. Medicine and furniture, as I’m understanding, have been a decade-long exercise in admitting my limitations and letting people be upset. Is there a return on this exercise, this showing people the door? It hasn’t been 5-star reviews or boons of cash. Nope, just the opportunity to stay inside the room, free to be myself.
To livin’ a life we love,
Ryan Fightmaster, MD
