Being Present

As a current second-year medical student, I have found my life to be very stressful recently. With my first board exam at the end of April looming on the horizon, the level of intensity has heightened among the majority of my class. I find myself staying up later than usual to review old material, secluding myself away from others more, and becoming more concerned about my understanding of such a vast amount of material needed to perform well on the boards. It has been difficult to manage time between my studies and personal life, as it appears that “the boards are all that matters” to future residency programs. With such an emphasis on achieving a high score, I have really tried to spend as much time as I can with my head in the books. For the past several months, I have experienced medicine through words, pictures, and lectures, with the exception of our time working with patients in our clinical skills course; however, even that pales in comparison to the days and nights spent studying drugs and diseases.

Not too long ago while I was studying at school, the pastor of my church contacted me on a Thursday night around 10 pm. He informed me that a woman from our parish was in very grave circumstances, and that he had just arrived to our hospital’s emergency department. Before I could even respond back with a text message, I found myself running over to the emergency department. The cold air and the stillness of the night was interrupted by my heavy breath and panting, as I ran as fast as I could outside, until I reached the front doors of the ED. After showing my student badge at the front and taking a moment to calm myself down, I searched the rooms until I found him standing outside the patient’s room. He greeted me with a big hug and introduced me to those present in the room.

I walked into a small room filled with the patient’s family. After greeting her husband, children and close friend, my eyes immediately focused on her. I walked to the left side of her bed, washed my hands, looked at her monitor while holding the patient’s hand and felt the pulse in her wrist. Having just learned about EKGs in school, I was trying to detect if anything was abnormal with her heart rate and rhythm. I quickly turned to her husband and asked what had happened and how they were doing. With a brief history, I found out that she had been suffering a great deal lately—she had been eating less, becoming more fatigued and unable to speak and struggling to maintain her health. She had a recent history of a variety of medical illnesses, and it appeared by a general visual exam that she looked very sick.

I washed my hands again and stepped away from the bed. I stood at the door of the room and tried to pick out her doctor and nurses, so that I could figure out what was happening to this woman. I wanted to know her clinical outcome and what could be done to treat whatever was ailing her. Before I could do that, my pastor looked at me and thanked me for taking time to come over and spend time with the patient and her family. And at that moment, I realized that there was something greater than me in that room. There was a sense of wholeness that I had not recognized upon entering. I looked around the room and then back into the eyes of the patient, and then it came to me. I felt her presence.

I ran as fast as I could that night for someone whom I had never met. I had wanted to use my medical knowledge (though I know it was very limited) to engage in someone’s care. I instinctively interacted with the patient in a way that I have been taught; yet, I seemed to focus more on diagnosis than on what was actually happening. I later realized that just being present was significant in that circumstance. Despite her inability to speak, I could tell that she was well aware of her surroundings, and I made it a point to make eye contact with her and smile.

I turned to my pastor who had always kept a smile on his face. He made it a point to say “thank you for doing what you do,” and tell a funny joke to passing nurses and healthcare workers. I noticed he was always able to crack a small smile from the many emotion-less workers in the emergency department. He looked at me and made it a point that everyone should feel loved, appreciated, and respected—especially in such a stressful healthcare setting as the emergency department. He understood the times when seriousness was needed, but also recognized that there is a lack of humanity that is often present in medicine. There is something to be said for opening one’s heart up and engaging other people in meaningful way.

I think that the majority of people who enter into the healthcare field do so for all the right reasons—mainly, to serve others. It seems that so many care providers become either numb or distant to our patients due to the high level of stress and demand within the medical profession. I have even caught myself becoming more distant due to the stress of school and the thought of my board exam in the near future; however, I realize that I can only do the best that I can, and that is enough for me. I think it’s patient encounters like this one which bring me back to how I felt before entering medical school. I felt a burning desire deep down to learn all that I could in order to provide for my future patients. It takes the ability to step back from our current stressful situations, though, and the wisdom to clearly assess that moment in time. My experience made me realize this: though my mind may find faults with many things and try to take me off my path, my heart will always remain true to serving others.

I sprinted across the medical campus that night, because I felt that someone was in need. I wanted so badly to engage with someone other than myself in a meaningful, real way. I wanted to hold someone’s hand and look him or her in the eyes, and be present in that moment. I believe that in order to serve others in medicine, we need to bring our wholeness into the patient’s room. We need to find a way to be both a professional diagnostician and also a compassionate brother and sister to whomever we are treating. There may be instances that call for us to go beyond “the standard of care,” and find ways to engage more with a patient and their families. Though there may be times when we just want to get away, I think there is something worth it in spending those extra minutes with a patient, because there is something beautiful about being present. Of all the hours and late nights pouring over my countless books, notes, and lectures, who knew it would be one night, one hour, and one patient that would teach me more about myself and medicine than the rest ever could.

Tee Griscom

I was born and raised in Nashville, Tennessee before heading to Furman University for my undergraduate studies. Football brought me to South Carolina, and I participated on the varsity team for a little over a year before deciding to focus more of my time on my studies and community involvement. I graduated Furman in May 2014 with a degree in Religion, and I believe that my background allows for a unique perspective into the lives of patients. I have been wanting to practice medicine since my youth, and I am grateful for the opportunity given to me by the USC School of Medicine Greenville to pursue that dream.