Time Machine

I looked down at my watch and felt a small surge of panic rise in my chest. 6:42am. 18 minutes until morning report. 18 minutes to talk to my patient and examine her before I had to be sitting in a conference room on the other side of the hospital.

Mrs. X, can you tell me how your night went?

Mrs. X, did you get some sleep?

Mrs. X, have you had any headaches? 

I began asking my usual battery of questions to a sleepy, semi confused elderly female patient. She interrupted me to say that she needed some water. I hurriedly explained that I would have the nurse bring some in once we were done.

6:47am. 13 minutes.

Any nausea?

Any vomiting?

Again, she asked me for some water.

"I know your throat is dry Mrs. X. We have you on NPO in case we need to do any procedures. I'll have the nurse get you a small cup of water as soon as we finish up here. "

6:51am. 9 minutes.

That time when I looked up from my watch, I noticed Mrs. X gently rubbing her throat, eyes closed. I stopped. I felt like someone had smacked me in the face. Here was an 88 year old female patient, a patient who I had been assigned to follow. A patient who looked remarkably like my grandmother. A patient who was sick and tired and scared. And she was asking me for water. Water.  And all I could focus on was getting the information I needed so I wouldn't make an ass out of my self in front of my attending. Here I was behaving exactly like the type of doctor I had sworn to never become.

I paused. Grabbed her hand and said that I was sorry she was so thirsty. I filled up her cup with a little bit of water (NPO is the worst) and patiently waited while she slowly took a few sips. After she was done I took the cup from her and started over.

I was 6 minutes late to morning report that morning. And I though I can't say that I didn't care -- the watchful eyes of my resident stung a little as I took my seat,  I was more grateful for a lesson learned.  I realized just how easy it is to give in to the endless demands placed on pretty much everyone working in a hospital. I also realized that the choice of giving in to the ever present tick-tock of an over-packed schedule, or taking the time to truly care for the living, breathing human being in front of me will always be just that -- a choice.

Realistically, as a third year medical student, my choices don't impact much right now. Mrs. X would have eventually gotten her water at 7:00am anyways when her nurse came in to administer morning meds. But one day, my choices will have more lasting consequences. And I want them to be positive ones.