Waiting Room Wisdom
Some of the most important moments in medicine don't happen in the exam room. They happen in the waiting room.
Recently, I was asked to support a patient living with dementia and her family as they faced a possible diagnosis of breast cancer. Her son, who provided her daily companionship and helped with her finances, shopping, and household tasks, asked me to come along to help with the medical side of things. Afterward, I would provide a plain-language summary of the visit for family members who couldn't be there.
As you might guess, everyone was understandably worried that mom might have breast cancer.
While we all sat together in the waiting room, the tearful patient looked at me, leaned over, and whispered, "You're going to stay with me, right?" Her voice was shaking.
I gently held her hand. Instead of rushing to reassure her or fix things, I simply listened. Although the thought of being alone in the exam room was frightening, what scared her even more was the possibility that her son would have to be present for such a deeply personal examination.
In that moment, I realized that although her dementia made it difficult for her to fully understand the medical situation, she still knew exactly what made her feel vulnerable, uncomfortable, and afraid. For her, advocacy wasn't about translating complex medical information. It was about having a trusted companion by her side when no one else could be.
In the end, everyone received a different kind of advocacy that day. Her son had someone to translate and navigate the medical conversation. Her family received the information they needed. And she had something even more important: a calm, reassuring presence when she felt most vulnerable.
Sometimes, the most meaningful care we can provide isn't another explanation or another test. It's simply making sure that no one has to face a difficult moment alone. |
