Right now I am a lowly medical student, a second year medical student at that. My responsibilities for patient care are zero, while my responsibilities for my schoolwork are everything. But in ten short months, I will begin my third year, which is comprised of clerkships; miniature rotations (usually 4-8 weeks) that will take me through the various medical specialties. It is then that, I am told, I will begin learning the hallowed practice of “how to do stuff to people.”
I like the field of Emergency Medicine, and I am reasonably certain that I will be an ER doc when I grow up. In this field, as in many medical fields, I will be given the legal right to take a knife and perform acts upon another human being that, in any other circumstances, would land me in prison. Of course, my right to perform these acts is based upon the assumption that I will always be acting in the patient’s best interests. “Well, naturally,” you’d say, rolling your eyes. “You’ll be a doctor. Of course you’ll be acting in the patient’s best interests, right?”
A chest tube is a long, plastic tube that is inserted into the thorax to help re-inflate a collapsed lung. The procedure sounds fairly straightforward: make a small, deep slice between the ribs to reach the pleural cavity (the “sac” that contains the lungs). Stick the tube in there to drain any air or liquid that has collected outside of the lung, decompressing the cavity and allowing the lung to re-expand. Stitch the tube to the skin of the chest to keep it in place. That’s it! There are more steps involved in making macaroni and cheese. (You can see a NSFW photo of the finished product here).
Ha, I got you! The gory chest tube photo is here. Many blunt or penetrating traumas to the chest require a chest tube, so this is a very common procedure in the ER. Now, before I ever give somebody a chest tube, I will do everything I can to learn as much as possible about the procedure. I will read about it, I will watch videos of it, I will observe the real thing in the ER. But no matter how prepared I might be, there will be that first time when I actually take the tube in my inexperienced little hands and actually shove it through some guy’s ribcage.
This is the conundrum, laid out in lovely outline-y form:
- If I want to be an ER doc, I will have to learn how to put in a chest tube
- This means I will need to practice on real people
- This means there will be “that first person” who I will operate on with zero experience
So what is the best way to train the new docs? I have no answer for this, since my real training has yet to begin. Say two patients come in who both need a chest tube: one is a homeless guy with no family and the other is a 35-year-old woman with a husband and two kids. Which patient do I take and which patient does the more experienced attending physician take?
In reality, we would both take both patients. Under no circumstances would a rookie doctor be allowed to do a dangerous procedure without supervision. Now, it is probably a bit riskier to be treated by a rookie under careful supervision than it is to be treated by an experienced doc alone, but I think that’s the price we need to pay now as a society to train the new docs who will take care of us when we’re older.
If it is in fact riskier to be treated by a rookie under supervision, this means people are dying because of their doctors’ lack of experience. This is going on right now, in hospitals all across the country. As an inexperienced doctor, I will be asking my patients to take a chance with their lives. I will be asking them to submit to what may be inferior care in order to contribute to my training and therefore to the betterment of society as a whole. This is huge and, frankly, it scares the hell out of me.
One evening at the hospital, I watched two young residents put a nasogastric tube into a little old lady. This is a long, thin tube that goes down through the nose, down the throat, and into the stomach. I think they were doing this to take a sample of the stomach juices, which they could test for blood and see if she was bleeding somewhere in her upper GI tract. Unfortunately for the patient, these two residents suffered from a common condition called “Immature Doctor In Occupational Training Syndrome” (that is, they were I.D.I.O.T.S.). The whole time that they were doing this procedure, they were ignoring the patient and chatting with each other about their plans for the weekend. They did not notice how roughly they were handling the patient. They did not notice that the patient was crying from the pain of the procedure.
I think the best thing inexperienced doctors can do is to just take it seriously. Every time we perform a procedure in training, we need to recognize that the patient is giving us a gift by helping us become better doctors. We can’t refrain from learning and practicing new procedures, and ethically, we can’t choose who we practice on based on our level of experience. So we thank them by recognizing the added risk, doing our best to minimize that risk, and then making sure that risk is justified by taking it seriously. Every time.
Incidentally, I went a bit overboard with this post with the luxury of the three-day weekend. I hope you enjoyed reading all of this, but future posts will probably be shorter. And thanks to BurnPTCruisers for putting this blog together. This is a great idea, and I hope we can keep it going.
-- DMD
2 comments:
oh yeah.. it's also good to hear that doctors are humans too! :)
dmd,
thanks for the insight! hopefully most people can have a better understanding 1) of what the new doctors are going through and be patient with them as well as the training procedure, and 2) other doctors maybe ponder your insights! :) the maccaroni photo was pretty cool stuff too!
abraços,
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