Hey Stethoscope, Do You Have A Soul?

I seldom wonder, what all whirls in the mind of a patient who happens to be at the wrong side of consultation desk with a doctor. The heightened hope, the abundant anxiety and the heaps of anticipation; all make a confused assortment in the shallow sulci of patient’s brain. The doctor is observed and studied with electric eyes, whether he is paying enough attention to the array of symptoms; or seems pre-occupied? If psychomancy would have been as easy as humming a nursery rhyme, the patient would have deciphered every smidgen of scientific knowledge dwelling deep in the cerebral cortex of the clinician. The patient normally comes with pre-occupied set of answers, only if the clinician is clever enough to pop the right question at the right time.

The white-coat syndrome threatens to attain monstrous manifestations to the ill prepared patient. The sight of sphygmomanometer and stethoscope, the smell of fumes of formalin, the sound of tongue-twisting medical syllables; all make the patient feel like tittle drop of water in the gory fire of tropical forest. The occasional question put forward by the all-knowing clinician that trespasses the mental boundaries of the ordinary person, makes the patient dilapidated. The Greenwich longitude starts settling with flashy pace. The patient finally adjusts his focal length to dire measures and attempts to observe the illegible handwriting of the doctor; the hopes get dashed again.

Now comes the counseling time. The good doctor will give ample of time to the patient and his most scintilla of concerns with big ears. The rapport establishment exercise does half the work for ideal acquiescence with the treatment. I feel that patient should be given every opportunity to express himself as many tangled cases get solved with the focus on seemingly inconsequential points in symptomatic narration by the patient. We are here to treat illnesses; we should make our personalities more approachable, more interactive and gentler.