I am in the privileged position of having a young enough career, and a sufficiently low acuity of patients, that I can actually remember every one who died while directly under my care. I do reflect on them frequently, but I never keep written records of things like that.
Part of it is direct fear of HIPAA and the possibility of making some error in redaction that allows me to be prosecuted. But the other is that as a creature of DC, the CIA, the NSA, and the implicit notion of surveillance are so baked into my bones that I would never want there to be any tangible record of things that were that personally consequential to me.
What a wonderful idea. I wish I had thought about it. I visited all my patients in their homes and then pronounced them there. I still live in the same area so I often drive by a street where I took care of a patient and he/she died there. I usually fill up with memories, conversations, etc. Most make me smile, some make me tear up. Many times I can not remember their names or the house number, but their faces and the family's faces are indelibly imprinted in my mind. I don't know what size binder I'd need - but it sure would be nice to have had started one.
When I retired from my surgery practice I took a box full of notes from patients and families home. They are stored in a closet in my home office. Receiving letters from patients and their families left an indelible mark on me. As my own family members received care for terminal conditions I wrote letters thanking the doctors and nurses who ministered to them. For me there was healing value in sending and receiving those notes.
Your patients are lucky to have you. Just the fact that you took the time to read these comments speaks volumes, a rarity I find these days when most bloggers don't seem to be bothered with a response. Thank you for this beautiful piece.
This gives me hope that our doctors can remain human with the pace that hospitals are requiring they keep… thank you for sharing this love of your patients 😢
This was really beautiful. To think that I, as a patient instead of a clinician, would be thought of and remembered after death by my physician, and that maybe that physician's practice may be improved by the remembering is poignant. I have many stories and patients that I remember but had never thought of something like this. Thanks for sharing.
Dear Dr Cifu, you have a beautiful heart. I admire and love the combination of intelligence, empathy, confidence, and humility you bring to your practice and to the reflections you share with us. I am so happy to know you, even in this limited way.
This is one of the most beautiful pieces I've ever read. Thank you, Dr Cifu. I am an NP who worked most of my career in oncology, & your words have deeply resonated with me. The transience of human life becomes amplified in our line of work, & learning to accept & heal from loss while also honoring each individual life is essential. Your piece accomplished that a thousand-fold. Many blessings to you for this...and for all you do.
Thank you Dr. Cifu! Reading about your binder(s) makes me think I should have done something like that. I have a handful of patients that I remember that taught me something valuable and in hindsight wish I had kept a journal of sorts. I did keep a hand-made reindeer candy cane a 6 y/o little boy gave me after an acute care visit when I was a newbie PA. There is more to it as the child had had several surgeries in his young life for Tetralogy of Fallot. Thanks again for your writings here! Mike
I am in the privileged position of having a young enough career, and a sufficiently low acuity of patients, that I can actually remember every one who died while directly under my care. I do reflect on them frequently, but I never keep written records of things like that.
Part of it is direct fear of HIPAA and the possibility of making some error in redaction that allows me to be prosecuted. But the other is that as a creature of DC, the CIA, the NSA, and the implicit notion of surveillance are so baked into my bones that I would never want there to be any tangible record of things that were that personally consequential to me.
You make the living feel better, even when you speak of death. Bravo.
What a wonderful idea. I wish I had thought about it. I visited all my patients in their homes and then pronounced them there. I still live in the same area so I often drive by a street where I took care of a patient and he/she died there. I usually fill up with memories, conversations, etc. Most make me smile, some make me tear up. Many times I can not remember their names or the house number, but their faces and the family's faces are indelibly imprinted in my mind. I don't know what size binder I'd need - but it sure would be nice to have had started one.
When I retired from my surgery practice I took a box full of notes from patients and families home. They are stored in a closet in my home office. Receiving letters from patients and their families left an indelible mark on me. As my own family members received care for terminal conditions I wrote letters thanking the doctors and nurses who ministered to them. For me there was healing value in sending and receiving those notes.
Wonderfully written, thanks for sharing.
Your patients are lucky to have you. Just the fact that you took the time to read these comments speaks volumes, a rarity I find these days when most bloggers don't seem to be bothered with a response. Thank you for this beautiful piece.
This has given me a lot to think about.
Thank you. So good to read and reflect. Helps me to not take anything for granted and work to humble myself before the privilege of each day.
This gives me hope that our doctors can remain human with the pace that hospitals are requiring they keep… thank you for sharing this love of your patients 😢
This was really beautiful. To think that I, as a patient instead of a clinician, would be thought of and remembered after death by my physician, and that maybe that physician's practice may be improved by the remembering is poignant. I have many stories and patients that I remember but had never thought of something like this. Thanks for sharing.
Dear Dr Cifu, you have a beautiful heart. I admire and love the combination of intelligence, empathy, confidence, and humility you bring to your practice and to the reflections you share with us. I am so happy to know you, even in this limited way.
This is one of the most beautiful pieces I've ever read. Thank you, Dr Cifu. I am an NP who worked most of my career in oncology, & your words have deeply resonated with me. The transience of human life becomes amplified in our line of work, & learning to accept & heal from loss while also honoring each individual life is essential. Your piece accomplished that a thousand-fold. Many blessings to you for this...and for all you do.
No, I'm not crying... Thank you!
Beautiful, Thank you for sharing
Thank you Dr. Cifu! Reading about your binder(s) makes me think I should have done something like that. I have a handful of patients that I remember that taught me something valuable and in hindsight wish I had kept a journal of sorts. I did keep a hand-made reindeer candy cane a 6 y/o little boy gave me after an acute care visit when I was a newbie PA. There is more to it as the child had had several surgeries in his young life for Tetralogy of Fallot. Thanks again for your writings here! Mike
What a beautiful story. I do not keep a written record, but the patients I lost have stayed in my memory and walk with me every day of my life.