At the heart of medicine is humanity. This account documents a personal story in which I felt deeply connected to this principle as a first-year medical student.
I felt nervous and uncertain as I was about to practice a medical interview with a standardized patient. The scenario was unfamiliar to many of us, involving the care plan for a patient (“Chris”) with stage 4 metastatic lung cancer. He and his partner (“Jordan”) were at office to discuss transitioning his care from the hospital to home, where he could spend the remainder of his time with his family. From the moment I sat down, I was captivated by this real, raw and deeply human conversation.
Chris recounted the stages of his journey: the diagnosis, the surgery, the recurrence and the enormous toll that chemotherapy took on his body. “I never expected to find comfort in clinging to a cold, stable toilet before chemotherapy,” Chris explained. Jordan, breathing in tandem and never letting go of Chris's hands, expressed his support through tender gestures and looks.
Compared to previous exercises, this encounter posed a unique challenge to my ability to build rapport, demonstrate compassion, and establish personal connections with patients. During this exercise, I discovered the great power and value of silence, allowing room for emotions and introspections. In those moments, I delved deeper into Chris' journey, understanding his fears and witnessing the depth of his love for his partner and family. These insights were gleaned not through questions and answers, but by respecting their shared decisions and emotional undercurrents that words could barely capture.
“I just want to go home, spend time with Jordan and my kids and have a good Manhattan,” Chris said with a touch of humor. Despite the emotional weight of our conversation, Chris sometimes infused it with warmth and humor, which added even more dimensions to the interaction. I felt deeply privileged that Chris shared such intimate end-of-life discussions with me. Her attention to everyday details added poignant depth to her story, reaffirming that medicine is fundamentally about embracing the human experience, honoring the humanity, values and aspirations of each individual.
During our feedback session, I asked Chris if he felt traumatized by having to reveal his difficult journey and his very personal decisions. While admitting the inherent difficulty of revisiting such a journey, Chris mentioned that he found liberation rather than trauma in sharing his choice to forgo further treatment and prioritize precious moments with loved ones. Later, Jordan commented that when I recognized his role as a supportive partner, it made him feel “visible, vital and bigger than the cancer itself.” This revelation struck me with surprise and gratitude, highlighting the profound impact that compassionate words from medical professionals can have on patients and their loved ones.
Once the session was over, I rushed to the door to ask Chris if I could give him a hug. I would like to express my sincere gratitude to Chris and Jordan for participating in medical training and allowing me to experience something magical and transformative. Although it was a simulation, it was the first time I personally engaged in a discussion on the profound topic of end-of-life care. As I reflect on this insightful, moving and inspiring experience, I am filled with a renewed sense of purpose and commitment to embodying compassionate care and honoring humanity and connection in my training and career future.
Ellie Qian is a medical student.