My inner boy scout came out today as I voluntarily gave flu shots at the university's geriatric center. When the organizers were asking around a couple weeks ago, I said yes right away -- because the idea scared me. I've been cutting and chiseling a cadaver for weeks now, but sticking a needle into a live person? Now that's bizarre. Yet by noon today, I had already given about two dozen flu shots.
The shot itself was easy. Sure, I had to be careful not to go too far into the muscle, a little tricky on some the frailer patients. But the needles were so small and sharp, and automatically retractable, that technically there was almost no problem at all. Talking with the elderly, however, was much harder. Some of them were a little grumpy and just wanted to get out of there. Some were happy to be there, but very hard of hearing. More subtly, though, were the little differences in customs and mannerisms. How do the elderly want health providers to dress? What greeting and level of conversation do they expect? What makes them comfortable? I also noticed that some made strange (yet well-meaning) comments about my female and minority colleagues (for example, asking the Chinese student from Detroit if "you're doing this because your culture values your elders.") You could almost compare our interactions to time-travel; I get to navigate the social terrain of 50-odd years ago.
It was a good experience, perhaps because it made me feel more like someone training to be a doctor and less like a molecule memorization machine. Also, it was good as a quick trainer for personal skills. The instructors here constantly emphasize how important they are. As a doctor, someone you have never met before will walk into your room, and within one minute has to feel comfortable getting a needle, or talking about drug use, or showing you their genitals. Failure to build that trust can lead to real medical problems, if people feel too hesitant to share some vital piece of information with you. I've got a lot to learn...
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