A Little Rain Never Hurt Anyone
by AUNDREA BUSSE
It was raining - not just a sprinkle , but an absolute downpour , the kind of rain coming from every direction , where you can ’ t see five feet in front of you . Unfortunately for me , I was headed right into it . As I got ready that morning , I chastised my decision to forgo a hospital parking pass . Yes , a mile walk isn ’ t that bad , but why didn ’ t
I get one at least as backup ? Maybe “ Past Me ” was a tad optimistic , or maybe just forgetful of Kentucky weather patterns . But there was no changing things now , so I grabbed my trusty umbrella and my longest rain jacket and trekked to the hospital .
To say I appeared comical upon arrival is putting it mildly . My shoes and socks were soaked , my light blue hospital-issued scrub pants were now dark blue up to the knee , and my hair had somehow managed to get wet despite me having both a hood and an umbrella . As I entered the hospital doors , the security person glanced at me , chuckled to herself , and said , “ Aww , you poor baby . You got a little wet out there .” I gave a courteous laugh in response and made my way inside .
I squeaked my way down the hall towards the unit where I began my morning routine - treatment rounds followed by checking in with my patients . I decided to see Avery * first , a teenager with major depressive disorder and suicidal ideation . She had been on the unit for a few days now , without much noticeable improvement . She still was extremely dysphoric , barely smiling during conversations with staff or peers , and while she participated in activities like school , art therapy and music therapy , she was quite reserved and withdrawn throughout . My own conversations with her had been limited , sticking to the clinical questions I asked every patient I saw , as Avery was reluctant to speak about anything else such as hobbies or school . Today , I thought , would be no different , but as Avery opened the door to her room , she broke out into a wide smile .
“ Have you seen yourself this morning ?” she managed to say between giggles . “ You look like a drowned rat !”
“ It ’ s the new style , rodent chic ,” I quipped back , a smile breaking onto my own face . I looked myself up and down and began to laugh . “ I guess I do look a little haphazard this morning .”
“ A little ? It ’ s like you swam here ,” she returned . “ Actually , I purposefully jumped into every puddle on my way here to make sure I was properly soaked .”
We continued to laugh as we sat down to talk about how she was doing . I had my list of questions ready to go , but before I could ask my first one , Avery spoke up , which surprised me since she had been withdrawn to this point . She told me how she and her siblings used to love playing out in the rain . Each time it stormed , they would pull on their little rain boots and raincoats , and race into the backyard , running around and singing “ If All the Raindrops .” They would play out there until their mom called them in and dried them off , usually with a cup of steaming hot chocolate waiting , with mini marshmallows , of course .
I told her about how my mom would always have hot chocolate ready for us when we would play outside in the snow ; we would always rush inside when she said it was ready , though we preferred the large marshmallows .
Even though this conversation lasted just a few minutes , it seemed to build a little bridge between Avery and me . Our morning conversations evolved to include more personal subjects , such as what books she was reading ( Water for Elephants - a book I had started twice and never finished ), her goal of becoming a librarian , the ACT and other seemingly insignificant topics . But it was these seemingly insignificant topics that put her at ease , and when we got to the serious topics , she was much more forthcoming and honest in her answers . We were able to discuss coping skills specific to her because I could tailor my suggestions to her .
And that is one of the little joys of medicine : understanding what makes a patient tick . Yes , you are treating a patient for a disease , but you are first and foremost treating a person , a person with likes and dislikes . A person with a past , and a story , a person who wants to feel understood : this person needs you to see them . And as physicians and physicians-in-training , we have the opportunity to see our patients , really see them . If we take just a few minutes to get to know them , we may find that we can treat our patients a whole lot better , even if we look like a drowned rat .
Aundrea Busse is a fourth-year medical student at the University of Louisville School of Medicine .
This essay was a submission to the 2022 Richard Spear , MD , Memorial Essay Contest .
* Patient de-identified and name changed .
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