Today I was making some phone calls, checking in with prospective patients. These calls are usually quite lengthy, as I am answering new questions and reviewing next steps for the patient. I was surprised to reach Patient X, as he usually brushes off my call and asks to call me back (which he never actually does.)
“So, Patient X, how are you progressing with your clearances?” I asked.
“Clearances? Which clearances?” Patient X seems genuinely befuddled.
“Your clearances for weight loss surgery,” I remind him. “Are you still planning on having the sleeve gastrectomy?”
He laughs. A lot. “No, no, no. I’m not going to have surgery. I decided to join Globo Gym again. It’s only my - what? Third time joining, I think. I am going to try losing weight on my own again.”
I am thankful for this telephone headset, that months earlier I swore I would never use. Today it allows me to take off my glasses and rub my eyes. “Alright, I’ll go ahead and take you off our active list of patients. But before I do that, can I ask you a question?”
Patient X laughs again. “Sure,” he said.
“Why don’t I reach through the phone line, grab you by the neck and slap you upside the head a few times and tell you that you are doing the wrong thing?”
Complete silence on his end of the phone. Uh-oh. I’ve done it again. It’s done, so I plunge ahead. “Patient X, we’ve known each other for over two years now. This is your fourth attempt at weight loss surgery. I am confused as to why you could, on four separate occasions, decide that weight loss surgery is the right decision for you, but then back out when you get within reaching distance of the actual procedure. Help me to understand - what is going on? Because weight loss surgery is a last resort. If you are not there yet - fine. I am glad that you aren’t at the end of your health rope yet. But I am struggling to understand what exactly has changed in your life so that Globo Gym is going to be a success for you this time? Because I want to help you.”
Again, silence at the end of the phone line. “Well, you don’t have to be a complete bitch about it!” he seethed, and hung up the phone.
I listened to the dead line tone in my ear until it too ended. I hate feeling this way. Not just because I was called a bitch. Really, if that was the best that he could do verbally, whatever. It’s just that I hate feeling angry because this patient has taken up so much time that could have been spent on any number of other patients who actually want surgery. I am also angry because this patient really needs surgery for his co-morbid conditions. He needs it, and we can help.
I hate feeling helpless.
