A Little Compassion, Please

The value of good customer service can never be underestimated, especially in the healthcare field. And for me, customer service includes doctors and nurses, as well as support staff since we are paying a fee to receive a service whether it be a diagnosis, treatment, an opinion, or the scheduling of our next appointment.

Case in point, I recently had a tooth pulled and I was extremely nervous since I’ve had a painful dental past. In fact, I don’t think I know anyone who doesn’t have some dental anxiety since tooth pain can be excruciating. Think the torture scene in “Marathon Man” with Dustin Hoffman and if you haven’t seen that movie or read that book, you absolutely should.

The assistant who took me to the room to get me ready was cold, just plain cold. Abrupt, to the point, all business, no warmth, no comfort, no empathy, no patience, no nothing. Just there. I told her I was on a Valium to keep me calm since I wasn’t getting anything but shots for the extraction, and she barely acknowledged that. Asked me some questions and then spoke with another assistant as she was unwrapping instruments that seemed to keep breaking. Naturally, I’m assuming these instruments are meant to be used on me and my anxiety is ramping up as I’m listening to them speak about how they should really be using another brand.

The dental surgeon finally comes in and he’s kind and warm, and I’m relieved. This is going to be okay because he’s the man, the main guy, the one that really matters, the surgeon. Dr. Warm and Assistant Cold work together to get my tooth out. Not very pleasant as I can feel this procedure escalating as he keeps asking for more instruments and then he starts using a drill. At this point, I’m so grateful I took the Valium because my heart has begun pounding and I can only imagine what I’d be like if I hadn’t taken it.

And then boom! The tooth is out. And Dr. Warm asks me how I react to Codeine and now my heart starts pounding again since I now know recovery is gonna be a bitch. He disappears and now Assistant Cold starts reading me off a list of things I should be doing and shouldn’t be doing and things to watch for, and she’s reading at the speed of the guy in that obnoxious commercial who talks impossibly fast. And I have a wad of gauze in my mouth, trying not to puke while attempting to absorb what she’s saying which is impossible since I’m traumatized by the procedure and really still under the influence of the Valium.

I attempt to ask a garbled question and she says, “It’s all written down on the paper. Just read it. I’ll walk you out.” She shoves the paper in my hand, removes my bib and leaves. I’m not even out of the chair yet. I take my beat-up, unsteady self down the hall and make a follow-up appointment, then head to the pharmacy where not only did I get super pain killers, but an infection preventative antibiotic.

I’m fine. Never even had to take a Tylenol, let alone the super drugs, but I’m frustrated at how uncaring people can be, especially in professions where a little comfort can go a long way. When you feel scared and vulnerable, kindness grounds you and gives you back a degree of control you feel you’re being forced to relinquish. I think of cancer patients and the stories I hear of how they have loved their nurses and treatment assistants because in most cases, they are compassionate, kind people. And this makes all the difference in the world. You feel reassured and comforted, and perhaps even a little hopeful that you’re going to survive whatever is about to happen to you.

I’ve seen memes on social media asking which do you prefer? The skilled professional or the compassionate professional.

How about the ultimate professional who’s capable of being both.

P.S. I didn't drive myself anywhere that day.