My life as a Malaysian doctor in the United States.
Monday, February 06, 2006
Sometimes, patients remember you. Sometimes they don't.
I got an email from a patient of mine. How they got my work email address, I don't know.
Someone I saw 3 years ago, when I was on cardiology, and she came in with respiratory distress from pulmonary hypertension. Looked after her for perhaps 5 days at most. Nice lady, her husband's a country singer; up-and-coming. So they emailed me now telling me he's finally making it big. Going to be on TV (can't divulge when/where/who). Visiting town soon, wanting to meet for coffee.
It's nice when they remember you. This was the same couple I ran into at dinner a year ago. They remembered me by name. And, surprisingly, I remembered them by name too, though I didn't quite recognize her because she had gained some weight and didn't look so cachexic anymore. I probably remembered their names because they had given me one of his CDs (autographed) before she was discharged.
Then, there's another patient. Someone I had looked after 2 years ago. Neurotoxicity from antipsychotics. He was in the hospital for 2 weeks. The psychiatrists said it wasn't possible, since he was on 'baby doses' of his medications. But there he was; after we stopped everything he got better. He's back out hunting and fishing now. Ran into him and his daughter last month. He doesn't remember me, he has no recollection of that hospital stay. His family remembers though. They think I don't remember the details of the case, but I do; I still have their card tacked on my wall.