"Get in, fix it, get out."
Building on yesterday's post about what to do when the going gets rough, there's a medical movie out there that is reasonably inspirational in its exploration of how people can learn from their misfortunes and times of crisis.
I will admit that "The Doctor" trends a bit maudlin for my own tastes, and that there are yooooge chunks wherein I roll my eyes and feel a snark attack coming on. But if you can hold that in check -- or, hey, if you truly dig melodramatic chick flicks -- the film does a pretty good job in showing the evolution of a bedside manner.
In it, William Hurt plays Jack MacKee (or maybe McKee, I couldn't really get a ruling on this and the credits just list him as Jack) a hotshot heart surgeon who's charming and breezy, but not very involved with anyone, including his patients, including his family.
"Caring's all about time. When you've got 30 seconds before some guy bleeds out, I'd rather cut more and care less."
And then it all goes south. Jack's driving with his wife one night when he hacks up a bunch of blood on his shirt. Surprise! You've got cancer! And there he is, on the other side of the fence, getting -- yeah, yeah -- a taste of his own medicine (which also happens to be the title of the book upon which this movie is based.) His doctor's manner is every bit as briskly detached as his own. He gets pissed off at being at the mercy of the experts.
It is here we learn that breezy distance is not just a persona, it has infected his personality. He treats his illness as he treats his patients, just another job to work through and attain success. He continues practicing though colleagues suggest he take off and rest. He shuts out his wife's attempts to be there for him.
Essentially, then, we have a person here who is all business, and has little regard for the human condition. A bad trait in doctors, and a bad trait in managers. You have to remember your employees have lives, even if you might not. Sometimes they want to go home and watch the game, or play with their kid, or take an afternoon off to decompress from snarky co-workers and automaton managers.
Eventually, Jack gets weaker. In his time of need he winds up turning to June Ellis, a fellow cancer patient who has an inoperable brain tumour. Formulaically, the dying woman is granted a sort of special wisdom and connection with MacKee. On the one hand, you can buy this, because she's been a patient a lot longer than he has and thus her expertise is earned, and they both have cancer, so on and so forth. And hey, at least they don't have an affair. On the other hand ... why dying? Can't someone with a future have some deep insight and understanding? Can't he see a shrink? Can't his wife break through? Can't he figure it out when his kid smiles at him? Blargh.
The other bothersome thing is that while MacKee does undergo difficulties - accessing his files, being patronized, filling out forms, etc. - there are some aspects that don't really translate. For one thing, he can march right in and demand the surgeon of his choice, and that choice can be an informed one. Any of you got that option? I certainly don't. We are supposed to ignore that part, though, and focus on how he chose the nice guy over the uber-talented shark. On the plus side, this does make way for a very nice scene that shows the best way to apologize to a colleague -- and the best way to receive an apology:
Dr. Blumfield: Well, that's OK. I've always wanted to slit your throat, now I'm gonna get a chance to do that.
For another, he doesn't seem to worry about the expense, or of missing that much work. He doesn't freak out that the insurance companies have screwed up and double-charged for anesthesia. There are a lot of aspects missing here that really put him on a level with the rest of us rabble. Instead, he focuses on his family, and his recovery, and the meaning of June's life. Ultimately, of course, we have the happy ending wherein Dr. Jack is a changed man, more sympathetic, more empathetic, more in tune with humanity and his family and la la la. It's smarmy, but it's still a valuable lesson.
"If I ever hear you describe a patient as 'terminal' again, that's how you'll describe your career!"
He goes so far as to insist his interns spend 72 hours as patients in the hospital, undergoing the same indignities, confusions and procedures their patients will, in an attempt to make them better doctors. (Though the movie doesn't mention who's footing the bill for this exorbitant educational expense, I feel I should point out.)
"You are no longer doctors, you are hospital patients."
It is surprising, but this is apparently an incredibly enlightened managerial perspective. Trying to walk a mile in another's shoes may be cliche advice, but -- more's the pity -- not enough people in positions of power tend to follow it, nor do they make their employees follow it. As a manager, you have to make sure your staff understands that although it might feel like they are the center of an unjust and unappreciative universe, the fact is, there are half a billion other people roaming around who feel exactly the same way.
A million years ago, I attended a staff training session where we were exhorted to view all our interactions as customer service -- not just with paying customers, but also everyone with whom we interacted in our workplace. If you promise to deliver a file by 9 a.m. Thursday, you treat that promise with every bit as much respect and importance as you would treat a person handing you their money -- or their vocal cords. First of all, it's common courtesy. If you say you'll do something, follow up and do it. Think about what happens if you don't turn over that file on time. You screw over the person expecting it, and you screw up whatever they need it for. This in turn probably screws up some other project, and the domino effect goes from there. Furthermore, it's just good sense. It's a safe bet that someday you'll need something from that same person, and do you really want them to remember you as the guy who screwed them over with the 9 a.m .file?
If up to now you've been a bit of a dragon lady, a drill sergeant, an ice queen or tyrant -- take a look at what you're doing and think of how you'd feel having it done to you. There's time to change, assuming you don't have an inoperable brain tumor. And apparently, even then you can take a shot.
Recent Comments