MD’s Feel Effects of
Watergate
Daily Observer
The
Watergate affair unexpectedly intruded into the doctor-patient relationship.
To
understand how this has come about, one must realize that the physician, during
the initial stages of an interview with a patient, is of course, an
inquisitor. He must delve into the
reasons for the visit, the type of problem that brings the patient to the
doctor, the quality of disease, its frequency, intensity and so forth.
There
was once a time not so long ago when the interviews were straight forward and
uncomplicated, but this no longer seems to be the case.
For
example, recently, Joe and Barbara came to see me. An elderly couple, they were seated in my
consulting room when I entered.
Barbara’s chart was on my desk.
“What
seems to be the trouble? I asked.
Barbara
looked at Joe. “You can tell him, Barb,”
Joe said.
“Well,”
she started hesitantly, “I have had some pains.”
“Where?”
“In
my house,” she explained.
“No. I mean in what part of your body were the
pains.”
“Oh,”
She looked at Joe. He nodded. “In my chest.”
“How
long have you had the pains?”
“A long time.”
“Well
that could be 10 years, six months, or two days. Pick one.”
“They
are right here,” she said, pointing to the general vicinity of an ample bosom.
“But
how long have they been bothering you?”
I asked again, patiently, I can assure you.
Joe
interrupted. “She already told you doc,
a long time.”
“I
just thought that if perhaps I knew exactly – well, let’s come back to that
later. What type of pain is it?”
“Very
bad,” she said anxiously.
“I
know that – or at least I guessed it.
What I mean is, what is the quality of the pain. Is it sharp like a knife, or a burning
pain? Is it a pressure or a squeezing
pain?”
“It
goes right through to my back,” she said.
“When
does it occur?” I asked.
Joe
interrupted again. “I don’t see what all
these questions have to do with the case.
The point is can you help her?”
“Possibly,”
I said, “if she will cooperate and fill me in on some of the details.” I turned
to Barbara again.
“Do
the pains occur while you are sleeping?”
“That’s
a silly question,” she giggled.
“I
mean,” I said embarrassed, “do they wake you from a sound sleep?”
“I
don’t sleep well at all doctor,” she said.
“Why not?”
“I
don’t know. How can you sleep when you
have pain?”
“Does
the pain keep you from falling asleep?” I asked.
“What would you say Joe?”
“Just
answer the doctor’s questions, Barb.”
“I
am trying, Joe, honest.”
It
was my turn again. “Do you have pain
when you eat?”
“Sort of. It is hard
to….” She stopped and looked mutely at
Joe.
“Let’s
drop that one,” I said helpfully. “How about when you walk.
Do you have pain when you walk?”
“It’s
too muggy to walk.”
“How about when you go upstairs?”
“There
are no stairs in our house, so I wouldn’t know.”
“Do
you belch a lot?” I asked.
She
nodded. “Does it taste sour?”
She
shook her head.
I
was becoming impatient. “You have been
here for almost 10 minutes and in all that time I haven’t the slightest inkling
of why you came. You have told me
absolutely nothing. Now
how about some straight answers to some easy questions. Be precise and concise, otherwise we can be
here all day.”
“We
got plenty of time doc,” Joe said helpfully.
“Well
I don’t. Now let’s start again. For how many days, months or years have you
been bothered by this pain, or whatever it is.
Does belching improve it? Do you feel
better after a bowel movement; does it make you short of breath? These are questions you will have to
answer. Now make up your mind, are you
going to answer or not?”
She
had a hurried and whispered conference with Joe. I heard him say to her, “No, you are not
under oath.”
“I
don’t really have to answer, do I Joe?” she pleaded.
“Of
course not, baby. You can stonewall
it. Let him ask all he wants. On the other hand, you can cover up. Tell him, it’s your mother who is having the
pains. That’s a good idea. Then he’ll never trace it to you.”
“Doctor,”
she said plaintively, “I lied. It is
really my mother who is having the pains.”
“Then
I’ll subpoena your mother,” I said.
“What is the sense of you and your husband coming here if it is your mother
who is sick?”
“He’s
not my husband, he’s my lawyer,” she said.
Joe
nodded assent. “That’s right baby. Now he knows.
We will let your mother take the rap.”
I
showed them to the door. The hell with
them, I thought, as they departed. Let
her twist slowly in the wind.