Time never seems to move linearly during a doctor’s appointment. Oftentimes, we’re in a rush on the way there, frantically looking for the office and filling out paperwork at the front desk. When we finally have a moment to sit and breathe, we’re either taken back to a room or more commonly, left to twiddle our thumbs for far too long. 

After the vitals and initial history taking, the door closes and patients are left with a pithy phrase—something along the lines of “the doctor will be in with you shortly.” As we all know, in this context shortly can mean a range from a few seconds to a few hours. As a physician-in-training, I sometimes think about what types of thoughts patients have during these spaces of transition. 

We wait weeks, months, and occasionally, years for the chance to see doctors about our problems. But often, we have been thinking about these medical issues for far longer than that—wondering if our symptoms will go away with time or are actually serious. Far too often, then, the actual doctors visit can feel like a bit of a letdown. Instead of getting clarity about our health, we are often interrupted, maneuvered and prodded, given vague statements about the possible diagnosis, and sent for further testing or follow up appointments. Before we know it, our time is up and the visit is finished. It is with these disparate time points that patients are forced to craft a cohesive medical narrative, attempting to link together doctor’s visits like beads on a string over time. 

Meanwhile, physicians constantly fight against a group of incentives and motivations that encourage them to cram as many visits and people into clinic on a given day. 1 hour to see a brand new patient is a luxury; I’d be lucky to have more than 15 minutes in the room with a patient before getting far behind. The mad dash of familiarizing one’s self with a mountain’s worth of lab results, medical notes, and imaging for multiple patients at a time can feel like a precarious (and dangerous) act of juggling at times. Is the person in Room 4 here for the 1-year cancer follow up, or the 6-month wellness check? Should I make them wait until I have a chance to go over some more results, or just go into the room now so they don’t have to wait longer to see me? Despite my best intentions and knowledge of what being a patient can often feel like, it can be hard to slow down and take my time once I’m actually in the room with a patient. I feel pressured, each moment toppling over like dominoes into the next. 

There has never been a greater disconnect between the patients and the physicians experience of time before, during, and after a patient encounter. How can I start to bridge this gap? I may have only one short visit with a patient, but I need to internalize the idea that each visit might represent a entire lifetimes’s worth of experience and anxiety regarding the condition at hand. As I continue to practice my habits of mindfulness, I start to see glimpses of what it feels like to center my body and mind in the moment to listen effectively. While listening is arguably the most important skill, I also want to continue developing my ability to deftly bring up issues or offer reassurance. No, ma’am, this is not cancer; yes, sir, this is something that medications can help with. It’s a dance where sometimes I must lead and sometimes I must follow, but right now my legs feel clumsy.