To the Man that Yelled at Me

I need to thank you.  If you hadn’t yelled, I would have killed you. I was driving, slowly, mind you, but that makes things even worse.  A slow death is worse than a fast death, right?  You were in the bike lane. I wanted to veer right.  Not turn.  Just…veer.  But, my children were in the car and they were insisting on changing the music.  I was looking down at my phone desperately trying to type in “toddler tunes”.  It’s a lot of letters, you see?  And, I don’t usually listen to that on my phone so it didn’t just pop up.  I had to type in twelve letters.  That wasn’t worth your life.  And you knew it.  That’s why you yelled.  You probably have several children and lots of grandchildren.  You looked really fit. You were gray, but fit.  You looked like the kind of guy that kept up with younger folks easily.  You kept yourself alive and you kept me out of prison. 

My first thoughts were not of gratitude.  My first thoughts were, “You don’t have to be a maniac about it!”.  But you did!   You did have to be a maniac!  You did have to sit up tall and wield your arm around and throw your voice and spittle at me.  I would never had known, otherwise!  So, thank you! 

I only appreciated what you did minutes later.  It was then that I realized that I need to pay more attention.  I was just going about my day doing things the way I’ve always done them.  Paying attention as much as I’ve always needed to pay attention.  Not more, not less.  Just – the same.  But, sometimes “the same” isn’t ok.  We never know when “the same” is ok. Which means that “the same” is actually never ok. 

I think about that moment in the car with my children, the music and the cyclist often. 

I’ve always held a high standard for my care with patients.  I try to be responsive in emails, I try to communicate with the other providers on their team . I try to explain things in a way that patients understand.  When it comes to the actual treatments I provide, I try to make sure that I’m better every six months.  My patients should get better faster because I should be better and more efficient and more knowledgeable every six month.  If I’m not, then I’m stuck in a pattern of “the same”.  Because “the same” isn’t ok.  Because “the same” is actually never ok.  When I find myself doing “the same” I don’t grow and my patients don’t improve. 

It’s the patient presenting me with a clinical challenge that is actually that grandfather yelling at me on the bike.  This is what wakes me up and jolts me into reality.  I need to do better.  It’s these patients that force me to grow and challenge my beliefs about what I know and what I don’t know.  It is these patients that pull me out of a sticky, but safe place and shove me into a new reality that is uncomfortable for me.   Growing does not feel good.  Growing is necessary for me and for my patients. 

Some of the things I’ve been forced to learn is that the whole body is connected to the rest of the body.  I always knew that, but I am guilty of becoming complacent.  I have to consider the upper back, the neck, the ankles. 

I’ve always incorporated the hip into my practice, but with more and more actual practice, my appreciation of the hip is evolving. 

I have never wanted to respect nutrition.  Not my own and not my patients’.  To me, that is boring.  I want to do only exciting things.  But, maybe nutrition isn’t exciting because I don’t understand its role entirely, but I need to.

Then there are times I’m trying to pull up toddler tunes while I’m missing something happening that I shouldn’t be missing.  I’ve been in someone’s case so deep that I cannot see the obvious.  Like, check your blind spot when you change lanes.  I might stupidly make the assumption that someone’s severe pain couldn’t possibly be related to something basic like a leg length issue.  So I don’t check it.  Or, I forgot to check it.  I get embarrassed when I miss this.  I don’t miss this often, but when I do, I do not feel very interesting.

As a human I make mistakes.  As a woman I make mistakes.  As a friend I make mistakes.  As a wife I make mistakes.  As a mom I make mistakes.  As a provider I make mistakes.  The only thing I can do, the one thing I try to do is figure out how they happened and how to learn from them. 

All healthcare professionals are doing the best in every moment.  No healthcare professional wants to mess up.  But, we are human and sometimes we forget to check our blindspot because we are doing something stupid. 

So when we do this, when we make our human mistakes, if we can own up to them to you, please forgive us and let us all move on.  From this we have grown and we thank you for yelling at us.