Today I was on-call, covering the wards with my colleague. It wasn't a particularly busy night. In my blue scrubs, I clocked off from my day job in ITU and began doing jobs handed over to us from the ward teams. The serendipitous encounter happened when I was walking down one of the narrow hallways in the hospital. With my bright pink stethoscope hung around my neck, I just came from running a patient's blood gas. The results showed that the patient I reviewed had high potassium levels, so I was enroute back to him to prescribe medication to correct it.
Although the task wasn't super urgent, I had a long, fast stride. A walking style very familiar to the those who understand and practice the ways of hospital life. Before approaching the end of the same hallway, a man appeared from the front doors of a surgical ward. At first, I didn't pay any attention to him. But suddenly, I heard him say, "Thank you for all the work that you do."
I looked back at him, trying to recall whether he was one of my patients or maybe a patient's family member. Could he be patient A's father? No it can't be - I have nothing to do with surgical patients. It quickly registered in my mind that I have never seen this person before - and the way he said what he said made me realise that he wasn't thanking me personally, but thanking me for the work generally. Surprised, and equally confused with his statement, I instinctively replied in a generic British way. "No worries," I said, giving him a smile.
"Really," he replied. "Thank you."
In return, I too said, "Thank you."
Our little encounter lasted a few seconds. But it really made my day. I was dreading the long stretch of working hours that I have in front of me this weekend. But what he said really did give me the motivation to keep doing what I do. He reminded me why I love this job. As doctors, we get more complaints and scorn than we do praise. So for a stranger to literally appear out of the blue and acknowledge the importance as well as the hardships of this profession, it really means alot.
So far in my short 6+ months as a doctor, I haven't once shed a tear. I have somehow managed to withstand intense work pressures and persevered through sad patient stories and the sometimes long, gruelling hours. The work was yet to break me. But as I walked away from that brief moment today, tears of happiness began to pool in my eyes. My strong professional facade was finally broken by an act of random kindness. How honoured I felt to be given the opportunity and skills to help people when they are at their most fearful, vulnerable and sometimes lonely times of their lives. Truly, there is no greater privilege.
I walked back onto the ward, blood gas results still in hand. I greeted my patient and told him that I was to give him more medicine for his potassium levels. "Will I be ok, doc?" he asked. "Yes, don't worry. Everything will be fine."
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