As a family doc, I get to take care of and work with my patients for the long term, and for pretty much any issue they want to talk about. As a result, I get to know them really well. I see them in good times and in bad. Whether I'm with the young male refugee, the elderly lady who still plays tennis, or a person with fluid gender, I get to know them, their hopes, their dreams, their pains, their sorrows, their joys, their frailties.
Each and every bit of them and their stories are precious nuggets - glimpses into who they are, how they live their life, and what motivates them. These pieces of their own stories layer on each other, kind of like the pancake sandcastle method (yup, this is a real thing, a totally cool way to build really, really tall sandcastles). As the water drains from the stack of sandcastles, a strong almost concrete-like structure is made. In the same way, each of these pieces of their stories layer upon each other, so that, over time, I've got a decent or even strong understanding of who they are, what they need, what they are scared of, what they hope for.
And then the magic of family medicine happens. Having been granted the privilege of knowing their stories, when any one of them is faced with a health challenge or issue, I can do a good job of framing options in relation to what I know about them. I can help them sort through choices by reflecting back how I see one option aligning with their person, and others not. And for me, when my patients are looking at me and nodding or telling me that I have clearly heard them and translated this to the messy business of health care, I know I've done a good job.
I love family medicine.
Each and every bit of them and their stories are precious nuggets - glimpses into who they are, how they live their life, and what motivates them. These pieces of their own stories layer on each other, kind of like the pancake sandcastle method (yup, this is a real thing, a totally cool way to build really, really tall sandcastles). As the water drains from the stack of sandcastles, a strong almost concrete-like structure is made. In the same way, each of these pieces of their stories layer upon each other, so that, over time, I've got a decent or even strong understanding of who they are, what they need, what they are scared of, what they hope for.
And then the magic of family medicine happens. Having been granted the privilege of knowing their stories, when any one of them is faced with a health challenge or issue, I can do a good job of framing options in relation to what I know about them. I can help them sort through choices by reflecting back how I see one option aligning with their person, and others not. And for me, when my patients are looking at me and nodding or telling me that I have clearly heard them and translated this to the messy business of health care, I know I've done a good job.
I love family medicine.
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