So Why do I Stay in Medicine?

A friend called me the other day. He has been following my blog since I started, and asked me, "If it's such a pain in the ass, why do you stay in it?" This got me to thinking that very question. There are alot of smart ass answers I could give, at least as many dumb ass answers, and just a few really good answers. In the end, it comes down to this: I like to help people, to make a difference in their lives. I also just like people, which is sort of an oxymoron in surgeons, as we are notorious for not being people persons. I'm quite sure it costs me in the short run, since I don't mind spending a little more time with my patients, especially the ones with complex or difficult diagnoses. I'm always interested in what my patients do for a living, and have come across a few careers I've never heard of. Here in the midwest, it's mostly farming and agriculture, but I've also treated a rock star or two (just passin thru), college professors, engineers, soldiers, pilots, and train engineers. If you give a person a little time, just about everyone out there has a story, and all of them are interesting. Here today are a couple of tales from my past, reasons why I stay in this.

Mr Green was an elderly gentleman, approaching the end of his time here on earth, but still plugging. He and his wife, in much the same condition, lived comfortably in an assisted living center, and like so many elderly couples, stayed upright pretty much by leaning on each other. Tug either one out, and the other would probably just fall right over. They had been married for something close to 60 yrs, and when I met Mr. Green, Mrs. Green was admitted to the hospital across town with pneumonia, and in the ICU. I really met Mr. Green by accident. He developed severe abdominal pain, and went in to the ER at the other hospital. His CAT scan looked bad, but the hospital was full, and so he was transferred to our hospital, and I caught him. I did emergency surgery on him almost immediately, and then took him back in a couple more times to wash out the abdomen. Because of his bad lungs and heart, he soon had a tracheostomy, a tube in his neck into the windpipe to ventilate him through. Meantime, his family, bouncing between two hospitals, had transferred Mrs. Green over to our hospital. The two of them had rooms side by side in the ICU, and for about a week, the nurses would move one or the other over to the other's bedside for several hours each day. They would sit and hold hands, and it was obvious the love and devotion that existed there. Within a week, Mrs Green came off the ventilator (breathing machine), and was transferred out of the ICU. Mr. Green, while sicker, was slowly working his way off the vent as well. On Friday morning, however, Mr. Green took a nosedive, and it was necessary to ramp up the vent support. It quickly became clear that he was becoming septic, that an infection had set in somewhere. About noon, word came down from the floor on Mrs Green. Mrs. Green had passed away sometime between breakfast and lunch, probably from a heart attack or stroke. She had been DNR (Do Not Resuscitate), so, while the family mourned, they also rejoiced in her return home. That evening, I met with the family on Mr. Green, who had been deteriorating all day. They were thinking about withdraw support, but wanted to wait until after Mrs. Green's funeral, which would be within the next few days. They didn't want two funerals right on top of each other. I suggested they consider withdrawing support sooner, and having a joint funeral. I could see the idea quickly take hold, as they realized the meaning of this to their parents, as well as to all of the surviving family. They decided to wait until the following afternoon to withdraw support. Mr. Green had the last word. About 4am the following morning, he passed away peacefully. When I talked with the ICU nurse, she reported that his pulse had been slowing for several hours, and at almost exactly 4am, it simple stopped, the EKG went flatline. I didn't speak with the family again, as Mr. Green had already been picked up by the funeral home by the time I arrived at the hospital later that morning. One of my nurses was from the Greens' hometown, and attended the funeral, she said it was beautiful. I reflected that Saturday, as I made my rounds, on the Grace of living together for nearly 60 yrs, and going Home within 24 hrs of each other. Surely the Hand of God was present here.
I didn't think much about the Greens again, until 5 months later. I was heading out to a fall festival on a beautiful fall day, and stopped in a little town to grab a soda and stretch my legs. A gentleman in the convience store looked vaguely familar, and, obviously, he recognized me from somewhere. He quickly cleared the mystery, he was Mr. Green's son. He told me of the funeral, and how very grateful the family was for all I had done for them, and that they still talked of me, the hospital and staff, and those final weeks. While I had been feeling tired after a long week in the hospital, I left that store rejuvenated, and with a new feeling of accomplishment. It's been close to 5 yrs now, and I still reflect on the Greens and their family. I can only hope that when my time here ends, it will be with such a feeling of completeness and closure.