The landscape within

Amira Otmane

“The most peaceful people that I know and the wisest people that I know are the ones who have created enough internal space to allow all parts of themselves to coexist despite the contradictions, so they have room for their creativity but also room for their fear, they have room for their dignity, and they also have room for their shame…they create this big huge auditorium of a landscape inside themselves.”

This quote from Elizbeth Gilbert, author of “Eat, Pray, Love,” embodies the beauty of being human, and each time I think about it, I think of how leaning in and making space can allow us to be better – for ourselves, our colleagues and our patients.

During my clinical year, I had the privilege of working with one of the most compassionate physicians I have ever met. She was beloved by all; everyone walking down the halls of the hospital would stop for a quick chat with her. Her patients probably loved her the most. They had developed deep connections with her, discussing their medical problems while also updating her on other parts of their lives. She was always such a bright light in every one of her interactions.

I remember one day, right before we were set to begin a scheduled procedure, she received a phone call that was quite distressing. She disappeared for a moment and when she returned it was clear that she was upset – her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were puffy. But she took a deep breath, stepped into the room and carried on with the procedure. After we were done, she followed her patient out of the procedure room, made sure she was recovering well, finished her notes and asked me if I wanted to take a walk with her before our next case. We proceeded to discuss a little bit of the difficult news she received this morning and how it would impact her life.

What struck me about this particular instance was my preceptor’s ability to honor her own humanity. Though she clearly embodies and practices humanism in medicine when it comes to her practice of patient care, it was her willingness to extend this to herself that served as a powerful reminder.

We often forget that humanism does, and should, extend to ourselves as physicians. Seeing her take just 10 mins to address her phone call, calm herself down, and get in the headspace to treat her patient was incredible. She didn’t silence herself, didn’t take out her emotions on her staff or colleagues, or completely disappear and not finish the rest of her work. Instead, she chose to hold space for all her emotions – her concern about her phone call, her compassion towards her patient waiting for her, her love of her craft, and her fears about what was to come given the news she received in the morning. Her willingness to debrief with me and not ignore how she reacted earlier also allowed me to see her as a human and was a testament to her own humility.

How we show up for our patients and for ourselves is the best way we can nurture our humanity. In expanding our own auditorium to make space for all our emotions, we invite our patients to do the same. When our patients step into our office, they should be able to discuss all their fears, hopes, goals, and frustrations, and we need to take this all in and validate them in doing so. But how do we expect to understand the range of emotions our patients feel if we do not let ourselves have the same luxury? How can we empathize with patients about their nuanced feelings if we don’t explore them within ourselves? After all, with our growing diversity and multicultural communities, we might not be able to understand one another’s exact experiences, but we can always be sure of our ability to connect with the same emotions that make us all human. ■