Holding

"The first time someone shows you who they are, believe them." - Maya Angelou

On the day of surgery, the day the patient has been dreading, sleep-deprived, hungry, and anxious, the patient checks in at the pre-operative front desk. She is unceremoniously given a gown and plopped into a cold, hard hospital gurney. A parade of people come through - a pre-operative nurse, an operating room nurse, surgeons to scribble their initials, anesthesiologists to start the IV. All of these - except perhaps, the surgeon - are strangers. For some patients, this is their first surgery of their otherwise healthy, peaceful, and doctor-free lives. And, occasionally, that first surgery is brain surgery or heart surgery.

The first time someone shows you who they are, believe them. In holding, the veneer comes off. The patient is honest, the fear is palpable, and doing the right thing can be hard. We went into anesthesia rather than psychiatry because we like the sleeping patient, we prefer midazolam to a conversation, our people-skills need tempering. And there is a lot of behind-the-scenes pressure to improve our efficiency, get cases started early, avoid delays. But that moment, when the patient needs reassurance, when sitting down and shaking a hand matters, I have come to enjoy. It is the moment when there is nothing to hide, from our end or from the patient's end, the moment when defenses are lowered, externalities are stripped away, and what's left is an opportunity to form trust and get to know someone.