Someone once asked why doctors call what they do "Practice." It's probably the same reason we call the people they treat "Patients." Unfortunately, practice doesn't always make perfect.
One of the first patients to express gratitude for my caring was a woman named Betty. She sent me a bright Thank You card after her release (another telling word) from hospital signed "your pershon, Betty." I've forgotten what ailment she had, or how I helped, but it was a rare, special feeling to know I'd done something she found worthwhile.
I was never sure of the effects of my treatments. It is impossible to gage the full consequences of an action. Life isn't as neat as the statistics we base therapeutic decisions on. I have a healthy portion of skepsis about those statistics and the glowing publications they inspire.
Today, I am grateful to all the patient people who entrusted their lives to me, shared their most intimate stories, enured my prodding, and let me poke my fingers into unspoken orifices. I thank them for suffering my requests, forgiving me my shortcomings and sharing the triumphs of recovery, too. How many? Innumerable. But I'll add a round 200 to the thank you count and Betty's variation on patient to my vocabulary. Pershon is like a hybrid between patient and person. It sums things up nicely and feels a lot more human to me.
Heute bedanke ich mich bei allen Patientinnen und Patienten, die sich von mir behandeln liessen.
