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This transcript has been edited for clarity.
What do we do if we don’t like patients? We take the Hippocratic Oath as young students in Glasgow. We do that just before our graduation ceremony; we hold our hands up and repeat the Hippocratic Oath: “First, do no harm,” and so on.
I was thinking back over a long career. I’ve been a cancer doctor for 40 years and I quite like saying that.
I can only think genuinely over a couple of times in which I’ve acted reflexively when a patient has done something awful. The couple of times it happened, it was just terrible racist comments to junior doctors who were with me. Extraordinarily dreadful things such as, “I don’t want to be touched by ...” or something of that sort.
Without really thinking about it, you react as a normal citizen and say, “That’s absolutely awful. Apologize immediately or leave the consultation room, and never ever come back again.”
I remember that it happened once in Glasgow and once when I was a young professor in Birmingham, and it’s just an automatic gut reaction. The patient got a fright, and I immediately apologized and groveled around. In that relationship, we hold all the power, don’t we? Rather than being gentle about it, I was genuinely angry because of these ridiculous comments.
Otherwise, I think most of the doctor-patient relationships are predicated on nonromantic love. I think patients want us to love them as one would a son, mother, father, or daughter, because if we do, then we will do better for them and we’ll pull out all the stops. “Placebo” means “I will please.” I think in the vast majority of cases, at least in our National Health Service (NHS), patients come with trust and a sense of wanting to build that relationship. That may be changing, but not for me.
What about putting the boot on the other foot? What if the patients don’t like us rather than vice versa? As part of our accreditation appraisal process, from time to time we have to take patient surveys as to whether the patients felt that, after they had been seen in a consultation, they were treated with dignity, the quality of information given was appropriate, and they were treated with kindness.
It’s an excellent exercise. Without bragging about it, patients objectively, according to these measures, appreciate the service that I give. It’s like getting five-star reviews on Trustpilot, or whatever these things are, that allow you to review car salesmen and so on. I have always had five-star reviews across the board.
That, again, I thought was just a feature of that relationship, of patients wanting to please. These are patients who had been treated, who were in the outpatient department, who were in the midst of battle. Still, the scores are very high. I speak to my colleagues and that’s not uniformly the case. Patients actually do use these feedback forms, I think in a positive rather than negative way, reflecting back on the way that they were treated.
It has caused some of my colleagues to think quite hard about their personal style and approach to patients. That sense of feedback is important.
What about losing trust? If that’s at the heart of everything that we do, then what would be an objective measure of losing trust? Again, in our healthcare system, it has been exceedingly unusual for a patient to request a second opinion. Now, that’s changing. The government is trying to change it. Leaders of the NHS are trying to change it so that patients feel assured that they can seek second opinions.
Again, in all the years I’ve been a cancer doctor, it has been incredibly infrequent that somebody has sought a second opinion after I’ve said something. That may be a measure of trust. Again, I’ve lived through an NHS in which seeking second opinions was something of a rarity.
I’d be really interested to see what you think. In your own sphere of healthcare practice, is it possible for us to look after patients that we don’t like, or should we be honest and say, “I don’t like you. Our relationship has broken down. I want you to be seen by a colleague,” or “I want you to be nursed by somebody else”?
Has that happened? Is that something that you think is common or may become more common? What about when trust breaks down the other way? Can you think of instances in which the relationship, for whatever reason, just didn’t work and the patient had to move on because of that loss of trust and what underpinned it? I’d be really interested to know.
I seek to be informed rather than the other way around. Can we truly look after patients that we don’t like or can we rise above it as Hippocrates might have done?
Thanks for listening, as always. For the time being, over and out.
Dr. Kerr, Professor, Nuffield Department of Clinical Laboratory Science, University of Oxford; Professor of Cancer Medicine, Oxford Cancer Centre, Oxford, United Kingdom, disclosed ties with Celleron Therapeutics, Oxford Cancer Biomarkers, Afrox, GlaxoSmithKline, Bayer HealthCare Pharmaceuticals, Genomic Health, Merck Serono, and Roche.
A version of this article appeared on Medscape.com.
This transcript has been edited for clarity.
What do we do if we don’t like patients? We take the Hippocratic Oath as young students in Glasgow. We do that just before our graduation ceremony; we hold our hands up and repeat the Hippocratic Oath: “First, do no harm,” and so on.
I was thinking back over a long career. I’ve been a cancer doctor for 40 years and I quite like saying that.
I can only think genuinely over a couple of times in which I’ve acted reflexively when a patient has done something awful. The couple of times it happened, it was just terrible racist comments to junior doctors who were with me. Extraordinarily dreadful things such as, “I don’t want to be touched by ...” or something of that sort.
Without really thinking about it, you react as a normal citizen and say, “That’s absolutely awful. Apologize immediately or leave the consultation room, and never ever come back again.”
I remember that it happened once in Glasgow and once when I was a young professor in Birmingham, and it’s just an automatic gut reaction. The patient got a fright, and I immediately apologized and groveled around. In that relationship, we hold all the power, don’t we? Rather than being gentle about it, I was genuinely angry because of these ridiculous comments.
Otherwise, I think most of the doctor-patient relationships are predicated on nonromantic love. I think patients want us to love them as one would a son, mother, father, or daughter, because if we do, then we will do better for them and we’ll pull out all the stops. “Placebo” means “I will please.” I think in the vast majority of cases, at least in our National Health Service (NHS), patients come with trust and a sense of wanting to build that relationship. That may be changing, but not for me.
What about putting the boot on the other foot? What if the patients don’t like us rather than vice versa? As part of our accreditation appraisal process, from time to time we have to take patient surveys as to whether the patients felt that, after they had been seen in a consultation, they were treated with dignity, the quality of information given was appropriate, and they were treated with kindness.
It’s an excellent exercise. Without bragging about it, patients objectively, according to these measures, appreciate the service that I give. It’s like getting five-star reviews on Trustpilot, or whatever these things are, that allow you to review car salesmen and so on. I have always had five-star reviews across the board.
That, again, I thought was just a feature of that relationship, of patients wanting to please. These are patients who had been treated, who were in the outpatient department, who were in the midst of battle. Still, the scores are very high. I speak to my colleagues and that’s not uniformly the case. Patients actually do use these feedback forms, I think in a positive rather than negative way, reflecting back on the way that they were treated.
It has caused some of my colleagues to think quite hard about their personal style and approach to patients. That sense of feedback is important.
What about losing trust? If that’s at the heart of everything that we do, then what would be an objective measure of losing trust? Again, in our healthcare system, it has been exceedingly unusual for a patient to request a second opinion. Now, that’s changing. The government is trying to change it. Leaders of the NHS are trying to change it so that patients feel assured that they can seek second opinions.
Again, in all the years I’ve been a cancer doctor, it has been incredibly infrequent that somebody has sought a second opinion after I’ve said something. That may be a measure of trust. Again, I’ve lived through an NHS in which seeking second opinions was something of a rarity.
I’d be really interested to see what you think. In your own sphere of healthcare practice, is it possible for us to look after patients that we don’t like, or should we be honest and say, “I don’t like you. Our relationship has broken down. I want you to be seen by a colleague,” or “I want you to be nursed by somebody else”?
Has that happened? Is that something that you think is common or may become more common? What about when trust breaks down the other way? Can you think of instances in which the relationship, for whatever reason, just didn’t work and the patient had to move on because of that loss of trust and what underpinned it? I’d be really interested to know.
I seek to be informed rather than the other way around. Can we truly look after patients that we don’t like or can we rise above it as Hippocrates might have done?
Thanks for listening, as always. For the time being, over and out.
Dr. Kerr, Professor, Nuffield Department of Clinical Laboratory Science, University of Oxford; Professor of Cancer Medicine, Oxford Cancer Centre, Oxford, United Kingdom, disclosed ties with Celleron Therapeutics, Oxford Cancer Biomarkers, Afrox, GlaxoSmithKline, Bayer HealthCare Pharmaceuticals, Genomic Health, Merck Serono, and Roche.
A version of this article appeared on Medscape.com.
This transcript has been edited for clarity.
What do we do if we don’t like patients? We take the Hippocratic Oath as young students in Glasgow. We do that just before our graduation ceremony; we hold our hands up and repeat the Hippocratic Oath: “First, do no harm,” and so on.
I was thinking back over a long career. I’ve been a cancer doctor for 40 years and I quite like saying that.
I can only think genuinely over a couple of times in which I’ve acted reflexively when a patient has done something awful. The couple of times it happened, it was just terrible racist comments to junior doctors who were with me. Extraordinarily dreadful things such as, “I don’t want to be touched by ...” or something of that sort.
Without really thinking about it, you react as a normal citizen and say, “That’s absolutely awful. Apologize immediately or leave the consultation room, and never ever come back again.”
I remember that it happened once in Glasgow and once when I was a young professor in Birmingham, and it’s just an automatic gut reaction. The patient got a fright, and I immediately apologized and groveled around. In that relationship, we hold all the power, don’t we? Rather than being gentle about it, I was genuinely angry because of these ridiculous comments.
Otherwise, I think most of the doctor-patient relationships are predicated on nonromantic love. I think patients want us to love them as one would a son, mother, father, or daughter, because if we do, then we will do better for them and we’ll pull out all the stops. “Placebo” means “I will please.” I think in the vast majority of cases, at least in our National Health Service (NHS), patients come with trust and a sense of wanting to build that relationship. That may be changing, but not for me.
What about putting the boot on the other foot? What if the patients don’t like us rather than vice versa? As part of our accreditation appraisal process, from time to time we have to take patient surveys as to whether the patients felt that, after they had been seen in a consultation, they were treated with dignity, the quality of information given was appropriate, and they were treated with kindness.
It’s an excellent exercise. Without bragging about it, patients objectively, according to these measures, appreciate the service that I give. It’s like getting five-star reviews on Trustpilot, or whatever these things are, that allow you to review car salesmen and so on. I have always had five-star reviews across the board.
That, again, I thought was just a feature of that relationship, of patients wanting to please. These are patients who had been treated, who were in the outpatient department, who were in the midst of battle. Still, the scores are very high. I speak to my colleagues and that’s not uniformly the case. Patients actually do use these feedback forms, I think in a positive rather than negative way, reflecting back on the way that they were treated.
It has caused some of my colleagues to think quite hard about their personal style and approach to patients. That sense of feedback is important.
What about losing trust? If that’s at the heart of everything that we do, then what would be an objective measure of losing trust? Again, in our healthcare system, it has been exceedingly unusual for a patient to request a second opinion. Now, that’s changing. The government is trying to change it. Leaders of the NHS are trying to change it so that patients feel assured that they can seek second opinions.
Again, in all the years I’ve been a cancer doctor, it has been incredibly infrequent that somebody has sought a second opinion after I’ve said something. That may be a measure of trust. Again, I’ve lived through an NHS in which seeking second opinions was something of a rarity.
I’d be really interested to see what you think. In your own sphere of healthcare practice, is it possible for us to look after patients that we don’t like, or should we be honest and say, “I don’t like you. Our relationship has broken down. I want you to be seen by a colleague,” or “I want you to be nursed by somebody else”?
Has that happened? Is that something that you think is common or may become more common? What about when trust breaks down the other way? Can you think of instances in which the relationship, for whatever reason, just didn’t work and the patient had to move on because of that loss of trust and what underpinned it? I’d be really interested to know.
I seek to be informed rather than the other way around. Can we truly look after patients that we don’t like or can we rise above it as Hippocrates might have done?
Thanks for listening, as always. For the time being, over and out.
Dr. Kerr, Professor, Nuffield Department of Clinical Laboratory Science, University of Oxford; Professor of Cancer Medicine, Oxford Cancer Centre, Oxford, United Kingdom, disclosed ties with Celleron Therapeutics, Oxford Cancer Biomarkers, Afrox, GlaxoSmithKline, Bayer HealthCare Pharmaceuticals, Genomic Health, Merck Serono, and Roche.
A version of this article appeared on Medscape.com.