PT is a 62-year-old man referred for an initial clinic visit by the medical center president. He is an executive at a Fortune 500 Company, a large donor to the University, and a member of the hospital board of directors. He is healthy, comes to the visit impeccably dressed, and knows exactly which tests are warranted – some which the doctor also recommends. At the end of the visit, he asks if the phlebotomist can come to the exam room so that he does not have to wait to have his blood drawn at the lab.
There are transactional and non-transactional relationships. Commercial relationships are transactional. When you get your car fixed, or pay your rent, or buy groceries, the transaction is simple: one person pays, the other delivers a good or a service.
Although there may be transactional aspects to our personal relationships, these are far more complex, involving human needs and emotions.
The patient doctor relationship sits somewhere between the commercial and the personal. The patient is looking for a service - a diagnosis, prognosis, or treatment – but the exchange is more complicated than that for cash.
Our modern healthcare system has made the relationship much less transactional. A patient almost never pays the doctor personally.1 Long gone is the exchange of cash (or a hen) for a consultation. If any payment is made at the office, it is made to “the staff” and usually for less than we consider the service to be worth – the “copay.” In the United States, most care is paid for with money taken surreptitiously. It is deducted from our paycheck as health insurance and as state and Medicare taxes. It is also raised indirectly through employer contributions to health insurance premiums.
Without a direct payment, what incentivizes the doctor to provide care? There remains, of course, a financial incentive. Each patient served enables the doctor to keep her job and burnishes her reputation, leading to future patients. A fear of being charged with malpractice and the desire to please also motivates the doctor.
The incentive we rely on most is professional obligation. Because this is so intrinsic to good healthcare, we take it very seriously. Students are accepted to medical school only if they seem likely to develop a sense of this obligation. We train students and residents in the definition and practice of professional standards. We admonish and discipline doctors for unprofessional behavior. Part of what worries us about medicine becoming a job rather than a vocation is a fear that this will lead to doctors feeling less obligated to their patients.
Because the professional obligation is so amorphous, and because the patient doctor interaction is so like normal human interaction, patients have a role in securing good care for themselves. Patients behave during their visits in ways they think – usually without realizing it – will lead to the provision of excellent medical care. This is not unreasonable. No matter how professionally obliged a doctor is to her patients, patient behavior affects care.
How a patient manages the doctor during the office visit is a product of their socialization – what enables him to get what he wants and needs in other aspects of his life. How a patient approaches the visit is something I only notice on one of my forest days — a day when I am particularly relaxed and mindful. What I am about to write is a gross oversimplification. Not only is our behavior at a doctor’s visit driven by our socialization; it is affected by everything else happening at a given appointment.
What are we hoping for? A pat on the back, or an important diagnosis?
How are we feeling? Fine, or are we on day four of a horrible gastroenteritis?
Are we feeling empowered or powerless? Sitting in a jacket and tie, or donning a paper gown, in the lithotomy position, waiting for a cystoscopy?
Are we seeing a doctor who treats us as a peer or as just one more name on a busy schedule?
The behavior of most of my patients, even on forest days, does not even register with me. These are either people who expect from me what I expect to provide or long-term patients with whom I share an established rapport. I think these visits are collegial -- I hope my patients see them in the same way.
Then there are the behaviors that stand out. Two are easiest for me to identify.
There are the bullies, entitled “Masters of the Universe.”2 These are the people, like PT, who are accustomed to telling people what to do and are used to getting exactly what they want. A doctor’s office is a particularly uncomfortable space for these people, one in which they are not in charge – none of us can control our health. These patients make demands. Some of these are reasonable, some are not.
A classic teaching in clinical medical ethics is that the patient/doctor relationship works best when the doctor sticks to what she knows – the medicine – and the patient weighs the possible decisions based on their values.3 Visits with PT and his ilk are often trying because the patient, feeling like he has mastered one thing – often demonstrated by the accumulation of wealth -- believes he has mastered the complexities of medicine as well.
At the other extreme are the disenfranchised: people who feel as powerless in a doctor’s office as they do in the rest of their lives. Experiences have taught these people that they are unlikely to get what they are entitled to unless they work for it. They navigate doctors’ visits by expressing excessive appreciation and respect. They may even be solicitous and deferential. My experience is that trainees often comment on how “wonderful” and “thankful” these patients are, often missing the injustices that underlie the behavior.
As doctors, we are professionally obligated to provide the best care to each patient, irrespective of who they are and how they treat us. As an insider, I know that we strive to meet this obligation and usually do. However, it would be foolish to argue that we are unaffected by how we are treated. Our treatment may not affect the care we deliver and only affect how we feel at the end of the day. It is probably impossible to know.
As patients, we respond to our doctor in a way that we hope (or expect) will make the visit tolerable and productive. How we behave is affected by past experiences and our previous interactions with medicine. Some of us are lucky enough to expect to be treated fairly, and with respect. We interact with the doctor collegially. Others have succeeded by being demanding and entitled. These people often bring this to their visits. Still others are accustomed to mistreatment, to getting less than deserved. These patients often resort to ingratiation and solicitousness.
I use this in the Tom Wolfe Bonfire of the Vanities sense rather than the action figure one.
To reference one of my critical appraisal pieces, you could see this as doctors overseeing the decision node and probabilities and patients controlling the utilities.
I appreciate this article showing the doctor's perspective on how patients present, and what might be the underlying experiences and history, leading to the behaviors.....
This caused me to reflect on my own experiences as a patient (never a doctor) over the decades.... when I was younger, the doctors were older than me, and I really respected and looked up to them and trusted them to look out for my best interest.
As the years have gone by, I have met and passed the point where the doctors are my age, and now mostly younger than I am (the age of my children). I have doctors in my social circle, and I see them as fellow human beings; equals -- fallible. Sometimes with useful knowledge, but not always. I've had some truly wonderful doctors.
But I've been on the receiving end of medical errors, and I've been on the receiving end of dismissive treatment. I've been on the receiving end of disrespectful, even unprofessional (sexually crossing the line, with no nurse present) behaviors by doctors. I've felt my concerns dismissed and my dignity while unclothed pooh-poohed. I've had a few operations/hospitalizations and I've been there for family members who have been hospitalized. I've seen a lot.
Doctors are human. I cannot elevate them above me, and unfortunately, due to my past experiences over the years, I am wary and avoid checkups. I did not start out this way. This is what the years have done to me. I'll go to the doctor if I feel he/she can do something for me, but otherwise, I tune into my body and I'm accepting of the fact that I am not professionally trained and may miss the signs of something serious. If so -- so be it. I'd rather not subject myself to the indignities and dehumanization and vulnerability of being in a patient position. I'd rather live my life with peripheral awareness of and experience with the medical "system." This is tough to do; constant commercials about cancer screening come onto the radio, and pills are pushed on the TV and in magazines. This is a culture of illness -- I'd rather just be healthy and take good care of myself without the constant worry that seems to be promoted these days.
Again, I really appreciate your articles and perspective. Very good food for thought. BTW, I think when I go to the doctor, I present as "collegial" and "undemanding" -- I extend trust but I'm wary, and I really do want to trust my doctors. I really do appreciate the care that they give me. I ask questions that may be annoying, but I truly want to learn and understand what the doctor is recommending, and I absolutely want to know what to expect in advance of any procedure. I greatly appreciate doctors who admit they don't have all the answers, and then they go off and do some research and let me know what they find.
Very nice piece.
One interesting observation I have had in my surgical practice: sometimes I feel like people agree to major surgery (when most probably wouldn’t when faced with the same facts) because they want to show me/their family/themselves that they aren’t afraid of it.
And it’s good to hear that someone else teaches to the trainees “never talk to a patient about life and death when they’re wearing a paper gown“