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Scenario I. Let’s say you wake with a collection of symptoms. None of them is concerning, but the combination seems a bit unusual, or at least confusing. You would like to speak to your PCP, whom you have known for a long time, and ask for either reassurance or advice on whether you should make an appointment. However, your experience with the front office’s organization tells you that the quick 4-minute conversation you’re looking for is not going to happen easily.
You have that robotic phone message memorized. It begins suggesting that you think you have an emergency to call 911. Then it reminds you that if have a question about COVID to press “2,” which will take you to a recorded message and eventually link you to a triage nurse if the recording doesn’t answer your questions. If you need a prescription refill you should press “3.” If you are a doctor’s office and wish speak to the doctor press “4.” If you know you need an appointment press “5.” And finally if you have a question press “6” and leave a message and a nurse will get back to you before the end of the day.
The good news is that your PCP’s office is good to its word and will return your call the same day, but the bad news is that it is likely to be well into the afternoon. And, while you don’t consider your symptoms life-threatening, you don’t want getting an answer to be an exercise in schedule disruption.
You were a doctor before you retired and you still have an “office.” It’s really more of a combination den and studio. So, technically you are a doctor’s office wanting to speak to the doctor. And, you know that pressing “4” will get you the answer you are looking for in a matter of minutes.
Scenario II. Your spouse, or your aunt, or the elderly widow next door asks you to accompany her at an upcoming doctor’s visit because she had been having trouble understanding the physician’s plan regarding further diagnosis and possible treatment. She believes having you along as kind of an interpreter/advocate would be a big help. Do you agree and do you make any stipulations?
Scenario III. Your PCP has referred you to a specialist. You are filling out the previsit form(s). Do you list your occupation as “retired physician” or just “retired”? Or just leave it blank?
Whether you deserve it or not, graduating from medical school has conferred on you a specialness in the eyes of many people. It is assumed you are smarter than the average bear and in taking the Hippocratic oath you have joined an elite club. And, with that membership comes some special undefined privileges.
But with that specialness there are are some downsides. For example, in some states being a physician once allowed you to have a license plate with “MD” in the number sequence. Sometimes that helped you avoid the occasional parking ticket. That is until folks realized the “MD” made you a target for car thieves and drug seekers who mistakenly believe we all carry drugs in our glove compartments.
So what about that first scenario? Do you press “4” to jump yourself to the head of the queue and avoid the inconvenience of having to wait for a reasonably timely response from your PCP? After all, you are fellow physicians and you’ve known her for a decade or two. If you are retired is your time any more valuable than that of her other patients? If you are still in active practice you can argue that getting special attention will benefit your patients. But, if it’s a weekend and you are off it’s a bit harder to rationalize special treatment. Playing the doctor card in this situation is your own decision but you must be prepared to shoulder the perceptions by your PCP and her staff as well as your own sense of fairness.
The other two scenarios are much different. In neither are you risking the impression that you are asking for a favor. But, they each have their downsides. In the second scenario you are doing someone a favor to act as an interpreter. How could this have downside? Unfortunately, what happens too often in situations like this is that when the patient’s physician learns that you are a fellow physician, the rest of the visit becomes a dialogue in doctor-speak between the two physicians with the patient sitting by as an observer. In the end this discussion may benefit the patient by creating a treatment plan that the patient can understand either because they overheard it or more likely because you eventually explained it to them.
On the other the hand, this doctor-to-doctor chat has done nothing to build a doctor-patient relationship that had obviously been lacking something. In situations like this it is probably better to keep the doctor card up your sleeve to be played at the end of the visit or maybe not at all. Before agreeing to be an interpreter/advocate, ask the patient to avoid mentioning that you are a physician. Instead, ask that she introduce you as a friend or relative that she has asked to come along to serve as a memory bank. During the visit it may be helpful to occasionally interject and suggest that the patient ask a question that hasn’t been adequately addressed. While some physicians may be upset when they belatedly find you have not revealed up front that you are a physician, I find this a harmless omission that has the benefit of improving patient care.
The final scenario — in which you are the patient — is likely to occur more often as you get older. When filling out a previsit form, I often simply put retired or leave it blank. But, how I answer the question often seems to be irrelevant because I have learned that physicians and their staff read those boilerplate forms so cursorily that even when I report my status as “retired physician” everyone seems surprised if and when it later comes to light.
My rationale in keeping the doctor card close to my vest in these situations is that I want to be addressed without any assumptions regarding my medical knowledge, which in my situation is well over half a century old and spotty at best. I don’t want my physicians to say “I’m sure you understand.” Because I often don’t. I would like them to learn about who I am just as I hope they would other patients. I won’t be offended if they “talk down” to me. If this specialist is as good as I’ve heard she is, I want to hear her full performance, not one edited for fellow and former physicians.
It doesn’t arrive gold edged with a list of special privileges. If it comes with any extras, they are risks that must be avoided.
Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at pdnews@mdedge.com.
Scenario I. Let’s say you wake with a collection of symptoms. None of them is concerning, but the combination seems a bit unusual, or at least confusing. You would like to speak to your PCP, whom you have known for a long time, and ask for either reassurance or advice on whether you should make an appointment. However, your experience with the front office’s organization tells you that the quick 4-minute conversation you’re looking for is not going to happen easily.
You have that robotic phone message memorized. It begins suggesting that you think you have an emergency to call 911. Then it reminds you that if have a question about COVID to press “2,” which will take you to a recorded message and eventually link you to a triage nurse if the recording doesn’t answer your questions. If you need a prescription refill you should press “3.” If you are a doctor’s office and wish speak to the doctor press “4.” If you know you need an appointment press “5.” And finally if you have a question press “6” and leave a message and a nurse will get back to you before the end of the day.
The good news is that your PCP’s office is good to its word and will return your call the same day, but the bad news is that it is likely to be well into the afternoon. And, while you don’t consider your symptoms life-threatening, you don’t want getting an answer to be an exercise in schedule disruption.
You were a doctor before you retired and you still have an “office.” It’s really more of a combination den and studio. So, technically you are a doctor’s office wanting to speak to the doctor. And, you know that pressing “4” will get you the answer you are looking for in a matter of minutes.
Scenario II. Your spouse, or your aunt, or the elderly widow next door asks you to accompany her at an upcoming doctor’s visit because she had been having trouble understanding the physician’s plan regarding further diagnosis and possible treatment. She believes having you along as kind of an interpreter/advocate would be a big help. Do you agree and do you make any stipulations?
Scenario III. Your PCP has referred you to a specialist. You are filling out the previsit form(s). Do you list your occupation as “retired physician” or just “retired”? Or just leave it blank?
Whether you deserve it or not, graduating from medical school has conferred on you a specialness in the eyes of many people. It is assumed you are smarter than the average bear and in taking the Hippocratic oath you have joined an elite club. And, with that membership comes some special undefined privileges.
But with that specialness there are are some downsides. For example, in some states being a physician once allowed you to have a license plate with “MD” in the number sequence. Sometimes that helped you avoid the occasional parking ticket. That is until folks realized the “MD” made you a target for car thieves and drug seekers who mistakenly believe we all carry drugs in our glove compartments.
So what about that first scenario? Do you press “4” to jump yourself to the head of the queue and avoid the inconvenience of having to wait for a reasonably timely response from your PCP? After all, you are fellow physicians and you’ve known her for a decade or two. If you are retired is your time any more valuable than that of her other patients? If you are still in active practice you can argue that getting special attention will benefit your patients. But, if it’s a weekend and you are off it’s a bit harder to rationalize special treatment. Playing the doctor card in this situation is your own decision but you must be prepared to shoulder the perceptions by your PCP and her staff as well as your own sense of fairness.
The other two scenarios are much different. In neither are you risking the impression that you are asking for a favor. But, they each have their downsides. In the second scenario you are doing someone a favor to act as an interpreter. How could this have downside? Unfortunately, what happens too often in situations like this is that when the patient’s physician learns that you are a fellow physician, the rest of the visit becomes a dialogue in doctor-speak between the two physicians with the patient sitting by as an observer. In the end this discussion may benefit the patient by creating a treatment plan that the patient can understand either because they overheard it or more likely because you eventually explained it to them.
On the other the hand, this doctor-to-doctor chat has done nothing to build a doctor-patient relationship that had obviously been lacking something. In situations like this it is probably better to keep the doctor card up your sleeve to be played at the end of the visit or maybe not at all. Before agreeing to be an interpreter/advocate, ask the patient to avoid mentioning that you are a physician. Instead, ask that she introduce you as a friend or relative that she has asked to come along to serve as a memory bank. During the visit it may be helpful to occasionally interject and suggest that the patient ask a question that hasn’t been adequately addressed. While some physicians may be upset when they belatedly find you have not revealed up front that you are a physician, I find this a harmless omission that has the benefit of improving patient care.
The final scenario — in which you are the patient — is likely to occur more often as you get older. When filling out a previsit form, I often simply put retired or leave it blank. But, how I answer the question often seems to be irrelevant because I have learned that physicians and their staff read those boilerplate forms so cursorily that even when I report my status as “retired physician” everyone seems surprised if and when it later comes to light.
My rationale in keeping the doctor card close to my vest in these situations is that I want to be addressed without any assumptions regarding my medical knowledge, which in my situation is well over half a century old and spotty at best. I don’t want my physicians to say “I’m sure you understand.” Because I often don’t. I would like them to learn about who I am just as I hope they would other patients. I won’t be offended if they “talk down” to me. If this specialist is as good as I’ve heard she is, I want to hear her full performance, not one edited for fellow and former physicians.
It doesn’t arrive gold edged with a list of special privileges. If it comes with any extras, they are risks that must be avoided.
Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at pdnews@mdedge.com.
Scenario I. Let’s say you wake with a collection of symptoms. None of them is concerning, but the combination seems a bit unusual, or at least confusing. You would like to speak to your PCP, whom you have known for a long time, and ask for either reassurance or advice on whether you should make an appointment. However, your experience with the front office’s organization tells you that the quick 4-minute conversation you’re looking for is not going to happen easily.
You have that robotic phone message memorized. It begins suggesting that you think you have an emergency to call 911. Then it reminds you that if have a question about COVID to press “2,” which will take you to a recorded message and eventually link you to a triage nurse if the recording doesn’t answer your questions. If you need a prescription refill you should press “3.” If you are a doctor’s office and wish speak to the doctor press “4.” If you know you need an appointment press “5.” And finally if you have a question press “6” and leave a message and a nurse will get back to you before the end of the day.
The good news is that your PCP’s office is good to its word and will return your call the same day, but the bad news is that it is likely to be well into the afternoon. And, while you don’t consider your symptoms life-threatening, you don’t want getting an answer to be an exercise in schedule disruption.
You were a doctor before you retired and you still have an “office.” It’s really more of a combination den and studio. So, technically you are a doctor’s office wanting to speak to the doctor. And, you know that pressing “4” will get you the answer you are looking for in a matter of minutes.
Scenario II. Your spouse, or your aunt, or the elderly widow next door asks you to accompany her at an upcoming doctor’s visit because she had been having trouble understanding the physician’s plan regarding further diagnosis and possible treatment. She believes having you along as kind of an interpreter/advocate would be a big help. Do you agree and do you make any stipulations?
Scenario III. Your PCP has referred you to a specialist. You are filling out the previsit form(s). Do you list your occupation as “retired physician” or just “retired”? Or just leave it blank?
Whether you deserve it or not, graduating from medical school has conferred on you a specialness in the eyes of many people. It is assumed you are smarter than the average bear and in taking the Hippocratic oath you have joined an elite club. And, with that membership comes some special undefined privileges.
But with that specialness there are are some downsides. For example, in some states being a physician once allowed you to have a license plate with “MD” in the number sequence. Sometimes that helped you avoid the occasional parking ticket. That is until folks realized the “MD” made you a target for car thieves and drug seekers who mistakenly believe we all carry drugs in our glove compartments.
So what about that first scenario? Do you press “4” to jump yourself to the head of the queue and avoid the inconvenience of having to wait for a reasonably timely response from your PCP? After all, you are fellow physicians and you’ve known her for a decade or two. If you are retired is your time any more valuable than that of her other patients? If you are still in active practice you can argue that getting special attention will benefit your patients. But, if it’s a weekend and you are off it’s a bit harder to rationalize special treatment. Playing the doctor card in this situation is your own decision but you must be prepared to shoulder the perceptions by your PCP and her staff as well as your own sense of fairness.
The other two scenarios are much different. In neither are you risking the impression that you are asking for a favor. But, they each have their downsides. In the second scenario you are doing someone a favor to act as an interpreter. How could this have downside? Unfortunately, what happens too often in situations like this is that when the patient’s physician learns that you are a fellow physician, the rest of the visit becomes a dialogue in doctor-speak between the two physicians with the patient sitting by as an observer. In the end this discussion may benefit the patient by creating a treatment plan that the patient can understand either because they overheard it or more likely because you eventually explained it to them.
On the other the hand, this doctor-to-doctor chat has done nothing to build a doctor-patient relationship that had obviously been lacking something. In situations like this it is probably better to keep the doctor card up your sleeve to be played at the end of the visit or maybe not at all. Before agreeing to be an interpreter/advocate, ask the patient to avoid mentioning that you are a physician. Instead, ask that she introduce you as a friend or relative that she has asked to come along to serve as a memory bank. During the visit it may be helpful to occasionally interject and suggest that the patient ask a question that hasn’t been adequately addressed. While some physicians may be upset when they belatedly find you have not revealed up front that you are a physician, I find this a harmless omission that has the benefit of improving patient care.
The final scenario — in which you are the patient — is likely to occur more often as you get older. When filling out a previsit form, I often simply put retired or leave it blank. But, how I answer the question often seems to be irrelevant because I have learned that physicians and their staff read those boilerplate forms so cursorily that even when I report my status as “retired physician” everyone seems surprised if and when it later comes to light.
My rationale in keeping the doctor card close to my vest in these situations is that I want to be addressed without any assumptions regarding my medical knowledge, which in my situation is well over half a century old and spotty at best. I don’t want my physicians to say “I’m sure you understand.” Because I often don’t. I would like them to learn about who I am just as I hope they would other patients. I won’t be offended if they “talk down” to me. If this specialist is as good as I’ve heard she is, I want to hear her full performance, not one edited for fellow and former physicians.
It doesn’t arrive gold edged with a list of special privileges. If it comes with any extras, they are risks that must be avoided.
Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics, including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.” Other than a Littman stethoscope he accepted as a first-year medical student in 1966, Dr. Wilkoff reports having nothing to disclose. Email him at pdnews@mdedge.com.