I feel really comfortable with you guys now and, so, I plan to make a difficult confession that may shock some of my orthopedic surgery colleagues. And definitely those of you in emergency medicine. And most likely a good portion of the medical providers currently practicing. I hug my patients. There, it's out now. No taking it back.
I admit that I did not always feel it necessary to have any more than minimal physical contact with my patients. In fact, I am ashamed to confide that in my early years, I was perfectly happy to have my patients anesthetized for the majority of our relationship. It can be so much easier to deal with sleeping patients and, after all, who wants to get bogged down in all that personal stuff? So, I happily stood by the side of my supervising surgeons, unzipping, fixing, and sewing up my noncommunicative patients. And a few days later, we smiled as we passed those patients back to the primary care providers who sent them to us in the first place. I would, of course, also shake their hands, and that was just enough personal contact for me. On to the next patient.
But after 13 years of practice, and a move to an outpatient practice, things have changed. I can't say exactly how or when I became the patient-hugger that I am today, but I am full-fledged and unlikely to change. I think it had something to do with the birth of my daughters, which affected me profoundly in every way: physically (mama mia, what a shame!) and emotionally (okay, so this is an improvement). This is going to sound as corny as it gets, but now when I meet a person, I immediately see my daughters in each one. I see family, and how they have shaped them; I see the impact of friends. I see how totally vulnerable everyone is, and I know this to be true because of the vulnerability I have seen in my children. So I hug them, both my daughter and my patients.
Now, don't get me wrong. I don't run out into the waiting room and sing “We are the world” while issuing full-body bear hugs to everyone. I am very respectful of the comfort of each individual patient. I am careful not to invade personal space and mindful not to send out the wrong message (note of caution: if you are new patient-hugger, don't wear anything even remotely revealing and pay attention to the unspoken body language that you are sending out). I should also mention that those patients who are the recipients of my hugs are folks who I have known and treated for quite some time. It's not something you want to do on an initial visit, lest the patient may never return—or (worse yet) tell all of his buddies to make an appointment to see you. Ease into it. Or not. It's totally up to you. But for me, I am now and will forever remain a patient-hugger.
Dawn Colomb-Lippa is a professor of physician assistant studies at Quinnipiac University in Hamden, Connecticut.