This week, I started covering for the infectious diseases specialty. Usually, this means going to the clinic once a week and taking consultations on the pediatric floor. One of these days, a code (cardiac arrest) was announced in the pediatric emergency room. It’s not every day that there are pediatric codes in the ER; I had the urge to go to the ER to see what was happening. I had enough time; nobody would question my presence as a senior resident. However, I recognized that my reason for going was curiosity. I knew there would be enough residents to assist.
The medical students asked permission to go to the ER, eager to see and learn. I told them they were free to go, but I inquired about their reasons. Was it to learn, or was it because of curiosity? Had they realized the seriousness of the situation? A child was dying—a young human being. I imagined the scene: attempts of intubation, CPR on a small chest, a crying mother waiting for news. We needed to show respect and empathy; being there out of curiosity was wrong.
In his memoir “When Breath Becomes Air,” Dr. Kalanithi recalls his first time dissecting a cadaver. The corpse had the head covered, awaiting the start of dissection when a surgeon came by to discuss the possible causes of death, leaning his elbows on the corpse’s face. “With each medical hypothesis and vocabulary lesson, his elbows rolled over this covered head. I thought: ‘Prosopagnosia’—a neurological disorder wherein one loses the ability to see faces. Pretty soon, I would have it too.”
Every Thursday on “Morning Report” and every month on the “Interesting Case of the Month,” we discuss fascinating cases, going over a patient’s history from admission until discharge. The more exotic or rare the illness, the better. Medical students are excited to follow those patients, and residents fight over who gets to publish a case report. This discussion does not cover the emotional drama of the family; we don’t talk about how the patient is feeling or the quality of life during or after the illness. Names are not mentioned to respect confidentiality, which also leads to separating humanity behind the illness. We forget those faces. We suffer from prosopagnosia.
“Doctors invade the body in every way imaginable. They see people at their most vulnerable, their most scared, their most private. Seeing the body as a matter and mechanism is the flip side of easing the most profound human suffering. By the same token, the most profound human suffering becomes a mere pedagogical tool.” -(When Breath Becomes Air).
It’s hard to admit moments of lack of empathy or humanity as pediatricians. However, as our medical career advances and the more cases we see and treat, those moments become more frequent. We need to talk about this more often and teach our medical students the importance of humanity and empathy while practicing medicine. My plea for every pediatric resident is to start remembering those faces. Every day is an opportunity to improve, and we can decide to reverse prosopagnosia starting today. By doing so, we will not only become better pediatricians but also better human beings.