Following a long office day of wrestling with my current nemesis, our office electronic medical record (EMR), I was pleased to read a lovely article by Dr. Taimur Safder in the current NEJM entitled “The Name of the Dog”. I’ll not summarize it as the link is free and the article is short and makes the point of today’s blog wonderfully.
I realize the EMR is not actually alive and, lacking agency, is unable to act as my archenemy and cause my downfall, or that of my patients. Further, I have a degree in electrical engineering so the technology of the EMR is not the issue either. I will grant that current and future data mining of the EMR may benefit untold numbers of patients. I will also concede that EMRs will (eventually) be bolstered with AI tools that will improve diagnostic accuracy and reduce or eliminate costly unnecessary testing.
My concern is that the EMR causes me to focus so much on the data collection that I spend less time getting to know my data source (my patient) as more than the sum total of discrete data points. There really isn’t any good place in the EMR to put the name of my patient’s dog. If I am going to treat my patient as more than a something, perhaps as a someone, then more than just reductionistic data acquisition and processing will have to take place.
With that in mind, please take a moment to view one of my favorite paintings by Sir Luke Fildes at the Tate Gallery called “The Doctor”. The painting depicts a country doctor sitting at the bedside of a young patient, with the child’s parents in the background. One can imagine the concern of the child’s father and almost feel the anguished prayers of the child’s mother, but both are interestingly relegated to background positions in the painting. The focus of the painting is the focus of the lamp in the painting – the country doctor and his patient.
Medicine in the 19th Century was limited in terms of meaningful data collection and limited further by actual effective treatments. In other words, the EMR of the 19th Century could have been completed in mere minutes and the diagnosis and treatment, such as it was, rendered in a few minutes more.
Given those limitations, perhaps not surprisingly, one gets the sense that the depicted outcome was far from certain and also that the country doctor had been in the home a while – there was at least time for tea at the table. What on earth was he still doing there? Maybe in absence of a definitive diagnosis and immediate cure, what the doctor could provide was his time, his empathy and his focused, loving concern. One gets the sense he would likely remain with his patient and the family as long as he was needed to offer what help and hope he could.
That seems like a reasonable example of how one imago Dei might care for another.
Would that I could consistently convey that level of steadfastness, that empathy and that loving concern to all of my patients without frantically looking for that special place in my EMR to store the name of your dog.