Empathy - When the Doctor Becomes the Patient.
The need to be empathetic is something we have been taught since not only medical school, but for many of us, since we were children. I have always embraced that goal and I thought I had achieved it. I was wrong. Sure, I had been a patient before, after a high school or college football injury. That is American football for my ISPN friends. I had also been a patient after trail running trauma and crashing my triathlon bike.
Despite this, my early bounce back from those events gave me the false perception that being a patient was easy. The sequence was the following: have a feeling of being amazing and great, get injured, feel acutely bad, recover, and then feel amazing and great again, then back to the old grind. I saw little issues with being on the other side of the hospital gown. My yearly physicals went fantastically well, and my doctor always told me I was the picture of health.
In July of 23, that facade of invisibility was initially cracked. During the buildup to the Badwater 135-mile road race, I was injured, and then pushing through on race day, I had a full thickness hamstring rupture, rhabdo, and acute kidney and liver failure. Despite this, I was still somewhat invincible, refusing hospitalization and being treated as an outpatient. This led to a 4-month long recovery, which led me to the cusp of being back to normal.
In May of 24, I never saw it coming. Feeling better, I ran the Key West Ultra 50 miler, a race I had won overall in the men’s division in 2017 and one that seemed, if anything, too short. It was 110 degrees on the heat index, and the sun was baking. I calculated my water to sodium balance poorly, and by mile 40, I was getting into very bad shape. Cramping, falling, suffering, my mind was going into strange places, and I started to hallucinate. This is when my crew told me I was in first place in my age group. Snap out of it, Tim; you can do this, I told myself, and do it I did. I could and would suffer through anything to get top 20 ultra finish and an age group win. Winning my age group, 11th place overall and still something was wrong. I asked the race director, “Did I finish?” three times, and then it went black.
A few hours later, I was awakened by the placement of a Foley catheter (not a good experience) and a new IV stick. The doctor in the ER, Dr. Barry, told me that my sodium and potassium were critically low, and my myoglobin was critically high. He also told me if I wasn’t airlifted to Miami right away, I may die. I consented, and my first helicopter ride was underway. I must admit that was surreal, and seeing the Keys coastline was fantastic. Once in Miami, I woke up again in the Brain CT scanner. Apparently, my sodium had been elevated too quickly, and I was at risk for brain edema.
Later, the ICU monitors went off every 5 minutes because my baseline heart rate was 50, and the nurse told me I was bradycardic and may have done heart damage. The real answer was quite the opposite; my heart was strong, and the slow heart rate was great conditioning, but still I had repeat ECGs and a cardiac consult. My IV infiltrated, I had bloody urine after my catheter pull, and I was getting 2-hour checks of my electrolytes.
Thankfully, I recovered very quickly, and at 48 hours, I declared myself ready to be discharged from the ICU. The doctor initially disagreed, but after discussion, agreed to let me go home, although I am not sure this was the right medical decision—VIPs always get suspect care. I drove 9 hours to Northern Florida, flew back to West Virginia, and went back to work 3 days after the event. I was doing great.
Then after working on Friday, I noticed the area of IV filtration was inflamed, red, and swollen. This required drainage twice and broad-spectrum antibiotics. Being ill, at this point, I took a week of vacation. During that week, I noticed my hands and feet felt “on fire” and appeared sunburned despite no sun exposure. This is when I learned of sulfa-induced vasculitis. This condition required me to switch antibiotics and go on oral steroids. This switch led to peripheral edema. Does this everend?
I found some relief by taking the steroids and propping my feet up after work, which led to sciatic nerve compression and a fall on getting up from the couch. That fall led to a biceps hematoma, ligament strain in the thumb, and back injury. I am now suffering from a facet injury to the lumbar spine from the fall. I am getting exhausted living and telling the story, but I did learn some major points.
Being a patient gives one a feeling of helplessness and loss of control.
Being a patient is expensive. Copays and deductibles add up.
Being a patient can lead to new comorbidities and iatrogenic injuries.
Being a patient is not easy, and sometimes, despite good care, one thing leads to another.
Laying on the pain procedure table instead of standing over it leads to an all-new perspective. Anxiety washes over you, and you are not sure it is the right move, but when it is over, you are happy you had the block.
Having great doctors, APPs, and nurses is worth its weight in gold.
Prayer worked for me.
So, to summarize, I have been the physician for 34 years, and I have been the patient for three months. Having to choose, I will pick being a physician every single time. I don’t think I am tough enough to be a patient for much longer. Hopefully, all of you can find empathy without undergoing a similar experience.
Check out my Linkedln post (opens in new tab) about this experience.