Dear reader, we live in strange times. We’ve been told countless times of the evils of sugar, the perils of experimenting with drugs, and the hazards of straying from the Mediterranean diet. But there’s an important warning that’s never a part of these conversations, something that has an even worse impact on mortality than obesity: loneliness and social isolation.(1)
Perhaps one of the most important bedrocks of current-day ethics in medicine is the Hippocratic Oath, a series of ethical standards that clinicians have to swear by before they enter the workforce. Medicine by its very nature requires an ability by the clinician to enter into some of the most private realms of another individual on a regular basis. For myself, while I may have initially almost stumbled into medicine, what now appeals to me the most is the ability to care for another individual in a way that requires their ultimate trust. This is not to say that I seek to adopt paternalist attitudes towards those I interact with, but that I wish to be able to work with them in achieving the best possible goals. Here, I wish to point out some of the reasons why & how my motivations for medicine have evolved, and try to contextualise them in a more globally relevant setting.
Laura glanced down at the next patient’s details. There wasn’t much to start with – she had never met this gentleman before, and we were just going to “drop by and check in on him”. We had taken a moment outside his house in the hospital car as she explained to me that the patient we were about to see was currently receiving palliative care for his cholangiocarcinoma. And that’s the extent of what we knew about him. As we stepped out of the car, a pleasantly dressed elderly man opened the door and waved us in. Introductions were made, pleasantries exchanged and we went in.
The Auricle 