About a year ago, I came down with a nasty case of pinkeye. Having been about a semester into medical school at that point, I knew a little about pinkeye: what caused it, what was actually happening in my eyes, why my eyes were itchy and oozy... and that pinkeye is really called conjunctivitis. Knowing that my pinkeye was most likely bacterial, I knew that a course of antibiotics should clear it up, so I went to the urgent care clinic.
I went into the office and signed up with the receptionist. I wrote on my intake form: "pinkeye". Once I got back into the room with the doctor, having already had my vitals taken and my height and weight measured, the doctor asked me how I was, the normal small talk. She asked me what I did for a living, so I told her "I'm in my first year of medical school." She then asked me what was going on. Being a medical student, I was still 99% sure that what I had was pinkeye (AKA conjunctivitis), so that's what I said.
"I've got pinkeye," I said confidently, but with a sad look on my face. My eyes were burning and blurry and irritated after all. The doctor took one look at my inflamed, red sclera and the green ooze seeping from my eyes. She said, with a disapproving look on her face, "Yep, that's pinkeye, but now that you're a medical student, you should really know by now that it's called conjunctivitis and you should start calling it what it really is." I thought to myself, Of course I know that..., but I ignored it. She finished the exam, wrote me a prescription, and I went on my merry way.
On the way home, I started thinking: I know pinkeye is called conjunctivitis. I knew that from the start. I knew that even before medical school. But what person is going to walk into an urgent care clinic, medical student or not, and say "I believe I have a case of acute conjunctivitis" and not expect to get some funny looks? Wouldn't that make them seem a little presumptuous? Wouldn't the doctor scoff and think Oh, the typical medical student, trying to impress me with big words. Either way, if I called it conjunctivitis or the more common term, pinkeye, she would know exactly what I meant. So why did it matter? Why did she have to say what she said and make me feel inadequate? Would she have said that to any other patient? Was she calling me stupid? Was she criticizing my medical education? I thought I was doing pretty well, assessing my own symptoms and coming up with the correct diagnosis of pinkeye.
Clearly I am an overthinker, but that's the point. Medical students are bred to be overthinkers. We think about our course material day in and day out, we think about our progress in school and compare ourselves to others, we think about our future and how hard we have to work to get there, and most of all, we think about how others look at us. Are we good enough? Are we smart enough? Are we making ourselves look stupid on a regular basis, or are we holding our own?
Now, a year later, being a second year medical student and mentor to first-years and undergraduates who are interested in medicine, I have learned an important lesson. Teaching by intimidation does. not. work. Positive reinforcement works much better. I think that if that doctor a year ago had praised me for being confident in my diagnosis instead of criticizing me for not calling it by the "proper" terminology, I would have much fonder memories of that visit. I would remember it with feelings of pride: my first accurate diagnosis. I wouldn't remember it by the feelings of shame that I can still sense if I think about it long enough.
I know that situation may seem like nothing to most people, a simple correction. But an interaction like that, physician to future physician, could have been handled a little more gracefully. Even though I won't ever forget that doctor, I also won't forget the lesson she taught me and the method of teaching and mentoring that I will not be utilizing in the future. And I hope my future students and mentees with thank her for it.
Sincerely,
T
I went into the office and signed up with the receptionist. I wrote on my intake form: "pinkeye". Once I got back into the room with the doctor, having already had my vitals taken and my height and weight measured, the doctor asked me how I was, the normal small talk. She asked me what I did for a living, so I told her "I'm in my first year of medical school." She then asked me what was going on. Being a medical student, I was still 99% sure that what I had was pinkeye (AKA conjunctivitis), so that's what I said.
"I've got pinkeye," I said confidently, but with a sad look on my face. My eyes were burning and blurry and irritated after all. The doctor took one look at my inflamed, red sclera and the green ooze seeping from my eyes. She said, with a disapproving look on her face, "Yep, that's pinkeye, but now that you're a medical student, you should really know by now that it's called conjunctivitis and you should start calling it what it really is." I thought to myself, Of course I know that..., but I ignored it. She finished the exam, wrote me a prescription, and I went on my merry way.
On the way home, I started thinking: I know pinkeye is called conjunctivitis. I knew that from the start. I knew that even before medical school. But what person is going to walk into an urgent care clinic, medical student or not, and say "I believe I have a case of acute conjunctivitis" and not expect to get some funny looks? Wouldn't that make them seem a little presumptuous? Wouldn't the doctor scoff and think Oh, the typical medical student, trying to impress me with big words. Either way, if I called it conjunctivitis or the more common term, pinkeye, she would know exactly what I meant. So why did it matter? Why did she have to say what she said and make me feel inadequate? Would she have said that to any other patient? Was she calling me stupid? Was she criticizing my medical education? I thought I was doing pretty well, assessing my own symptoms and coming up with the correct diagnosis of pinkeye.
Clearly I am an overthinker, but that's the point. Medical students are bred to be overthinkers. We think about our course material day in and day out, we think about our progress in school and compare ourselves to others, we think about our future and how hard we have to work to get there, and most of all, we think about how others look at us. Are we good enough? Are we smart enough? Are we making ourselves look stupid on a regular basis, or are we holding our own?
Now, a year later, being a second year medical student and mentor to first-years and undergraduates who are interested in medicine, I have learned an important lesson. Teaching by intimidation does. not. work. Positive reinforcement works much better. I think that if that doctor a year ago had praised me for being confident in my diagnosis instead of criticizing me for not calling it by the "proper" terminology, I would have much fonder memories of that visit. I would remember it with feelings of pride: my first accurate diagnosis. I wouldn't remember it by the feelings of shame that I can still sense if I think about it long enough.
I know that situation may seem like nothing to most people, a simple correction. But an interaction like that, physician to future physician, could have been handled a little more gracefully. Even though I won't ever forget that doctor, I also won't forget the lesson she taught me and the method of teaching and mentoring that I will not be utilizing in the future. And I hope my future students and mentees with thank her for it.
Sincerely,
T