The sun was shining brightly that day. As I walked in, I felt grateful for the sunshine in my life. Not just the one outside, but the kind that comes through moments, people, and conversations. I didn’t know yet, but one such moment was waiting just around the corner.
An 80-year-old gentleman was waiting for me, curled up on the hard bench outside the consultation room. He looked frail, tired. I caught myself assuming. Maybe it’s severe pain, maybe a malignancy. It’s so easy to jump to conclusions before we even say hello.
He had complaints of back pain and reduced sleep. I went over his history, examined him, and spoke about both medicines and small changes he could try at home. In between, he spoke about home — how things are, who cares for him, and so on. In just ten minutes, he painted a picture of eighty well-lived, healthy years. I discovered the mischievous child in him. The one who still enjoys swing rides, who is an avid reader, a cherished teacher.
He kept grinning, laughing through it all, pleasantly surprised, his eyes lit with joy. He smiled at me and said, “You’ve healed me, just by talking.” And honestly, I hadn’t even spoken that much.
What made him feel that? I was wondering, since I hadn’t even begun using my knowledge of advanced pain blocks. I listened. Not half-heartedly, not while multitasking. For the entire time, he had my full attention — ears, eyes, posture, presence. I simply stayed with him, adding a few words here and there to encourage him to go on.
He walked out with the prescription, almost cheerful. I was still sitting there, reflecting on what he had said, when he peeked back in, smiling sheepishly, and asked my name. “I will come to you only from now on,” he declared.
As it turns out, this story is about communication and active listening-not cancer, not even pain. It is a rather neglected part of clinical practice, and perhaps of human relationships too.
Thanks to the efforts of the Medical Education department, Pallium India, and many other giants, some of whom I’m unaware of, communication now finds a place in medical and nursing education.
The big question is, do we have enough teachers demonstrating these critical skills? Do they receive the same attention as the more glamorous procedures and technical skills?
This is a gentle call to all medical, nursing, and paramedical students and faculty. Let us learn to communicate well. It will enrich our lives and the lives we touch.
– Shilpa Khanna