The moment I realized I wanted to go into medicine, there was an automatic desire to go to a bookstore and get my hands on every anatomy and physiology book I could. I just wanted to immerse myself in knowledge.
I knew, as a female and a Latina, things may be difficult. So, I wanted to learn and become the best student I could be.
My story has a happy ending: I made it. I graduated college and then medical school, and now I am completing my final year of training in family medicine.
But the downside to immersing oneself in knowledge, guidelines, and protocols is that it's easy to forget the small lessons from our surroundings, our families, and our cultures.
I come from a very traditional South American background, with an Abuelito and Abuelita that expressed their love for their family with each movement and each word.
Without failure, whenever I came to my Abuelitos with a cold or facing hardship, they would quickly get to work. Abuelito would sit next to me and listen to all my grievances and symptoms, as Abuelita would start to prepare a "sopa" and "café con leche" that would make me feel like a new person.
In the race to become a physician, I somehow forgot that my first healers were my parents and grandparents; they had lessons that could hold the key to becoming the best physician I could be.
As I evolved in my medical knowledge and practice, one thing I began to forget was how powerful that tenderness and care I experienced at my grandparents' home was in improving my symptoms during colds, illnesses, and other ailments.
At one point during my training I was caring for a Spanish-speaking patient who was incredibly frustrated about feeling unheard by a previous provider. I suddenly realized that some of medicine's strongest attributes are not the protocols and the guidelines (though they are important), but rather, the warmth that comes from caring about another person. I began to look at my patient, and my patient's symptoms, through the eyes of my Abuelita. With that tenderness, love, and desire for that person to feel better.
My eyes softened, my tone became warmer, and I reminded my patient -- just as my Abuelita would -- that no matter what, I was there for this person, and that we would go through this pain and illness together until it improved or resolved. We came up with a plan together, but it seemed that feeling heard and cared for was all this patient really wanted.
I realized that the "sopa de pescado" that my Abuelita would always make when I was sick did have healing power, not because of some chemical reaction that made it into a magical antibiotic, but because of the empathy with which it was made, and the positivity and optimism that it brought.
There are many conditions that will require treatment, and maybe even some that will have no resolution. But the power of empathy and care for your neighbor often has a power to, if not heal, improve certain symptoms. If nothing else, it can lead to trust of one another, something that is incredibly important in the patient-physician relationship.
The power of empathy hasn't been lost completely in the medical world, and it has even been studied at times. One noted that higher scores in clinician empathy could contribute to improved hemoglobin A1C and cholesterol levels in diabetic patients.
Of course, immense responsibilities and an ever-increasing workload can easily become an obstacle to actually sitting down with a patient and empathetically listening to their problems. But if we can channel Abuelita and view medicine through her eyes before we enter the patient room, it can make a world of difference.
It was through this realization that, though I must continue to immerse myself in knowledge and protocols, when it comes to communicating and seeing each of my patients, I must bring my Abuelita's eyes, her empathy, and her love; see each patient through those eyes that put love into every action and every word.
This is a lesson that I will carry with me, especially in the wake of the recent pandemic. There is still a lot of healing and love to give.
is a third year family medicine resident in UTMB Family Medicine in Galveston, TX.