By Caroline Vines, MD, chair of the Department of Emergency Medicine at LDS Hospital
"This is an awesome story and a beautiful illustration of what it means to connect with our patients, even though we may have never walked in their shoes," says Jodi Allen, patient advocate. "Empathy doesn't require you to have gone through the same experiences as someone—it just means putting yourself in their place for a moment to understand and connect with them on a deeper level."
Earlier this month, Eric Gilbert, MD, and Jennifer Ramsey, ER crisis worker, cared for a young man who had recently moved to Utah from another state. He’d gone down a self-destructive path and started using meth. He ended up in the ER at LDS Hospital seeking help for his substance abuse.
Jenn went out of her way—with the help of social workers Eva Neuman and Jenna Okrasinski—to coordinate with the patient’s mother on a wire transfer of money for a bus ticket home. The patient’s mother quickly raised money from friends and neighbors, then wired it to Jenn, who purchased the bus ticket. Jenn then gave the patient a gift bag full of food, drinks, and snacks for the long journey home, along with a blanket, some clothes, and a cab voucher to get from the hospital to the bus station.
Jenn says, “I wrote that note to the patient, while holding pack tears, knowing that a young life may have a positive trajectory because we didn't take the easy road of discharging him to the homeless shelter. As I sat down and explained the bus itinerary to him and told him where his mother would be picking him up, I saw the light restored in his eyes. I saw hope. I went home that night with a pure feeling of joy, knowing I’d done my job right. Knowing this young man might have been kicked to the street had he ended up in any other ED.”
We don’t know if this kid made it home to his family, but I have a feeling he did. And I hope this young man is healthy and has found meaningful work.
As I reflect on this story, I realize the point of the story isn’t the ending, but the beginning. While we can’t always control what our patients do when they leave our hospital or clinic, we can control how we treat them while they’re here. And we can always strive to provide the most empathetic and best care possible, like Jenn did in this case.
This story reminds me of the patients we care for daily who are in vulnerable positions or have difficulty with their treatment plans. We see patients with chronic diseases or addictions who demonstrate varying levels of adherence to their treatment program, who show up repeatedly seeking treatment for what often seems to us like a preventable problem. Whoever the patient—whether they show up at our doors for the first time or for the twentieth time—if they’re asking for our help, we can be thoughtful, caring, and empathetic. And the more we can reliably do that for everyone, the more likely we are to positively influence not just the patient in front of us, but also ourselves and those around us.
In this story, Jenn reminds us what our job is all about. She could’ve done the bare minimum and given this kid a list of resources and said, “good luck.” Instead, she did more. For me, this story will challenge me to put my biases aside, acknowledge, label, and own any burnout I might be experiencing, and then strive to make a figurative “care package” for all my patients.