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Narrative Medicine and Emerging Clinical Practice

There in front of me lay a thin, almost translucent looking person. Her hands were warped with the ravages of rheumatoid arthritis and her hair was so thin I could see the age spots on her delicate little head. She was sleeping, soundly from the looks of it. Her oxygen tubing was wrapped around her head and the machine made a strange whirring sound reminiscent of a swamp cooler I once had in my apartment in college. I touched her hand, softly at first, then squeezed a little harder. “Mrs. G., Hi Mrs. G., are you awake?” Her eyes opened and she cracked a huge smile. Uh oh, I thought, she thinks this is funny already? “Mrs. G., I’m the medical student who was going to see you today, did your nurse tell you I was coming?” Her eyes closed again. “Oh sure! Betty told me this morning,” she said in a barely audible voice. “I even had them bring me an extra chair for you!” Wow, she is completely cognizant. Both a sigh of relief and a wave of terror struck me at once. Now I had to play the doctor.