"A story is difficult, if not impossible to read in an electronic medical record."

© Imelda Maurer, cdp January 25, 2010

Today's mail included the current issue of the publication, "Caring for the Ages." It is a journal of the American Medical Directors Association. Medical directors are physicians who, in addition to possibly attending some of the residents in a nursing home, are responsible for developing and implementing medical care policies and procedures that are based on current standards of practice. The Medical Director is also responsible, if requested by the nursing home, for supervising the care other physicians in the nursing home provide their residents to see that all medical care policies are implemented.

I was excited to see the debut of a column by Dr. Jerald Winakur and skipped quickly to that page. Dr. Winakur is a practicing geriatrician and a faculty member of the University of Texas Health Sciences Center in San Antonio,TX. About this time last year he published a remarkable, moving memoir, "Memory Lessons", in which he tells his life story through the narrative of his father's stages of dementia and finally death. Each chapter is a well-told story wrapped in his professional and humanitarian understanding of the aging process and his manner of honoring that process in each of his patients and in his dad.

In this column, Dr. Winakur relates his experiences as a practitioner in the context of stories. Each person, he relates, brings a story. The doctor's task is to listen to that story. Winakur has learned to ask a few questions, he says. He believes that the "forged ability to listen" is the 'art' of medicine. "By listening to our patients' stories, good doctors glean most of the information they need not only to treat ailing bodies but also to care for our fellow humans as unique beings. He continues, "It is not necessarily what patients tell me but what they don't tell me -- what I observe from years of being alert to nonverbal cues -- that is often even more important than words."

The intent of his initial column is to highlight the relational aspect of 'doctoring.' He chides those physicians who become "mere technicians" in our procedure-oriented world." Referring to the current health care 'debate,' Winakur pleads that people making public policy set in place policies that will provide reimbursement for both narrative and statistics. Otherwise, he says, "if the oft-tortured thread of a story is absent in the debate of policy makers . . . . our health care system will be sterile, unresponsive, bureaucratic, inflexible and undignified for patient and practitioner alike."

While reading this column, I was again reminded of how fortunate Dr. Winakur's patients are to have him as their primary care provider. I have a few friends in San Antonio who fit that description, and not one of them expresses less than a huge, grateful smile when this relationship is mentioned.

I was also reminded of a recent telephone conversation with my sister who lives in another city. In response to a question about her health, she told me that she and my brother-in-law are just fine. "We've changed doctors." Their previous, doctor, in their estimation, had gotten to the point that "he thought he knew more about us then we did." In other words, this 'other doctor' didn't listen to their stories. He didn't honor their narratives. My response was totally supportive. "You go, girl!"

If your primary care provider isn't listening to your verbal and nonverbal messages, is too rushed to listen or to question, writes a prescription at the first mention of a symptom --- maybe a change should be in store in your future!