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Things are what they are
To the Editor: I finished residency in 1996. I’m not sure this qualifies me to respond to Dr. Lansdale’s article, but I will anyway. In 12 years, I have witnessed what he describes, even though I work in a not-for-profit military hospital (medical center). Yet I am uncertain that things are worse than they were then, even though it seems like the house staff spend thrice the time typing on a keyboard in the team room than they do at the bedside. Things are what they are. Patients are living longer—I have seen this with my own eyes. Some of them are seeing children graduate, get married, and have babies and spending final holidays with other loved ones. I often feel a sense of helplessness at exactly the sort of obstacles to true excellence Dr. Lansdale points out. However, in the spirit of evidence-based medicine, it remains to be established that spending less time touching the patient doesn’t reduce nosocomial infections. We were putting Swan-Ganz catheters in 12 years ago, and I am pretty sure in retrospect we were hurting patients—we don’t do that much any more. When I struggle with these difficulties and I try to figure out how to emulate my mentors from what seems like a better time, I remember what my mom told me when I was a second-grader: “Just do your best, and no one will fault you.” While I understand burnout, I think a more productive approach would be to redouble efforts at preserving humanistic traditions, valuable clinical skills, and a sense of what we were, rather than to retreat.
Things are what they are
To the Editor: I finished residency in 1996. I’m not sure this qualifies me to respond to Dr. Lansdale’s article, but I will anyway. In 12 years, I have witnessed what he describes, even though I work in a not-for-profit military hospital (medical center). Yet I am uncertain that things are worse than they were then, even though it seems like the house staff spend thrice the time typing on a keyboard in the team room than they do at the bedside. Things are what they are. Patients are living longer—I have seen this with my own eyes. Some of them are seeing children graduate, get married, and have babies and spending final holidays with other loved ones. I often feel a sense of helplessness at exactly the sort of obstacles to true excellence Dr. Lansdale points out. However, in the spirit of evidence-based medicine, it remains to be established that spending less time touching the patient doesn’t reduce nosocomial infections. We were putting Swan-Ganz catheters in 12 years ago, and I am pretty sure in retrospect we were hurting patients—we don’t do that much any more. When I struggle with these difficulties and I try to figure out how to emulate my mentors from what seems like a better time, I remember what my mom told me when I was a second-grader: “Just do your best, and no one will fault you.” While I understand burnout, I think a more productive approach would be to redouble efforts at preserving humanistic traditions, valuable clinical skills, and a sense of what we were, rather than to retreat.
Things are what they are
To the Editor: I finished residency in 1996. I’m not sure this qualifies me to respond to Dr. Lansdale’s article, but I will anyway. In 12 years, I have witnessed what he describes, even though I work in a not-for-profit military hospital (medical center). Yet I am uncertain that things are worse than they were then, even though it seems like the house staff spend thrice the time typing on a keyboard in the team room than they do at the bedside. Things are what they are. Patients are living longer—I have seen this with my own eyes. Some of them are seeing children graduate, get married, and have babies and spending final holidays with other loved ones. I often feel a sense of helplessness at exactly the sort of obstacles to true excellence Dr. Lansdale points out. However, in the spirit of evidence-based medicine, it remains to be established that spending less time touching the patient doesn’t reduce nosocomial infections. We were putting Swan-Ganz catheters in 12 years ago, and I am pretty sure in retrospect we were hurting patients—we don’t do that much any more. When I struggle with these difficulties and I try to figure out how to emulate my mentors from what seems like a better time, I remember what my mom told me when I was a second-grader: “Just do your best, and no one will fault you.” While I understand burnout, I think a more productive approach would be to redouble efforts at preserving humanistic traditions, valuable clinical skills, and a sense of what we were, rather than to retreat.