To the Stoic Ones
Letters to my patients, day 18
You’re my favorite.
No really, you are.
Those first visits had me nervous, I will admit that. Your pain was out of control. As you paced the room angrily, unable to sit for more than a moment, our visits were short and to the point. Let’s get on with treatment so hopefully your pain will improve. I flashed you a smile as you headed for the infusion room.
Week after week, you paced and I smiled.
But then things started looking up. Your pain improved; you were able to sit (though I realized you prefer standing anyway). And still, I smiled at you.
Eventually your rough edges softened. You relaxed into the cyclical nature of treatment, adjusting to this new flow. And when I addressed your tobacco use, you started joking with me for the first time — “okay smiley, I will consider quitting.”
My smiles got to you, didn’t they?
Yes, the stoic, stubborn, obstinate — these are the hard ones to crack. More often than not, there is a valid reason to these emotions. The walls in place were not built overnight. Rather, years of stress, feeling unheard, bottling emotions and frustration laid this foundation.
But if you’ll take the time, there is a simple trick to chipping away at this wall.
Just listen.
The more a person feels heard and understood, the easier it is for them to open up. And if you are opening up to someone who is receptive, it is hard to be upset at them. Over time, the wall will give way to a trusting relationship. You might learn where they grew up, what brought them to this state, why they moved away from family, what kept them in the tech industry for 35 years, why they never took medication before, what their real questions are about their health. This is what makes healthcare worth it.
So yes, the stoic patients are my favorite. Because eventually, when they realize you are genuinely interested, they allow you to take care of them.
And that is what I’m here for.
When you find yourself building walls, take what you need:
It is okay to let these walls down with people I trust.
I will seek out care teams that I feel safe with.
There are people who want to help me. I am worthy of this help.
I will be open about my fears, everyone has them.
This journey is hard, but I am not alone.
Thank you for being here,
This is part of a 31-day series of letters to my patients — those undergoing a work-up, diagnosis, or treatment for cancer. Topics are also focused on those caregiving and supporting individuals affected by cancer. This is not an easy journey, but you do not have to do it alone.
*Details changed for patient protection while maintaining the integrity of the story.
Your patients are lucky to have you! Please know that your compassion and your empathy are often what we patient truly need and that often is missing in the relationship with our medical professionals. Taking the time to joke with us, or shedding your white coat and letting your professional walls down to share in an emotional moment or carry our grief for even a few seconds. Those human connections are soothing for our battered minds and hearts.