A Worthwhile Interruption

Dr. John Moran Describes a Meaningful Patient Encounter

I was on the edge of the mourners at a patient´s funeral feeling a bit torn between respect for the deceased and her family, and my responsibility to my patients and staff at the hospital who were waiting for me to make my morning rounds.

She was one of our favorites, an elderly woman who had finally succumbed to a failing heart. Her family contacted us the day after she died and invited several of the nurses and myself to the funeral. The funeral was early morning, so I counted on paying my respects and heading in to the hospital to start my rounds a little later than usual but still at a reasonable hour.

What I hadn´t counted on was the graveside service. In trying to leave the church after the funeral I wound up at the head of a long line of cars headed to the cemetery. There was really no way to pull out of the procession unobtrusively, half an hour later I arrived at the graveside. After several hymns and prayers the casket was lowered into the ground, and the congregation filed by one by one dropping handfuls of earth into the grave. The graveside service came to an end with a number of family members and elders delivering eulogies.

It was at about this point that I finally resolved it was time for me to leave. The sun was up way past mid-morning, and I was now facing starting my day at the hospital hopelessly behind. I began making my way to the edge of the crowd, feeling self-conscious but reassuring myself that people would understand the need of the doctor in the crowd to leave early. I hadn´t gone a half-dozen steps when one of the elders put a hand on my shoulder and said "the family would like you to say a few words…" I hope my expression didn´t betray the sense of panic I felt. I collected my thoughts as best I could and sure enough two minutes later I heard the minister announce "Dr. Moran will say a few words."

I kept it simple. I did my best to let everyone know how much we at the hospital appreciated being able to care for her, how she would be remembered as one of those special folks who always managed to keep her sense of humor, and would usually have us all laughing over something she had to say even when we knew how ill she must have felt. I told them we would miss her, and we´d always remember her wonderful spirit. Then it was the next speaker´s turn, and I made my way to my car, and on to the hospital.

Once I read about a college professor who, commenting on his retirement, said that the most worthwhile experiences of his career always began as an unwanted interruption of his "real" work. I think he´s right. My day would have gone much more smoothly if I´d skipped the funeral that morning. When my head is down and I´m doing my best to stay on track with a busy day, I’ll confess the last thing I want to hear is that a patient needs to see me again, or yet another family member just arrived and needs to talk to me, or a nurse wants to share a story or ask my opinion about something, or…a daughter would like me to attend her mom´s funeral. As I get older I hope I´m doing better at seeing these not as interruptions but as part of the work. This is what we do. And you never know when one of those interruptions in your routine might turn into something really memorable.

John Moran, M.D.
Program Director
Toppenish, WA