"Mediquette" by MSIH first year blogger Jon Rom

I think it’s important to be polite. I’m Canadian so that isn’t a mind-blowing revelation, but it’s still true. My affinity for the “magic words” goes beyond my homeland’s supposed culture, however.

My mom and dad are a couple of lovely Israelis who never expected me to memorize the long list of rules that make up modern, western etiquette. It never occurred to them despite almost 30 years of acculturation molding them into the Israeli-Canadian hybrids they’ve become.

Furthermore, nobody was ever checking up on that part of my development. I can assure you that there is no “manners police force” in Canada, although I’m not very clear on what the Royal Canadian Mounted Police does and so I apologize if I’m mistaken. If Canadians are found to be nicer than the average global citizen then it must be something in the water. Or the syrup.

My knowledge on this topic comes from self-driven learning and not formal training, which may make me a poor authority on the subject of manners. Emily Post and other such authors are far better sources if you want to catch up on behavior in polite society. Here I only discuss my perception of the value etiquette has in my field.

Quite a bit of my energy goes into ensuring that I am not a rude man.  I’m keen on actively honing this skill because I’m against ever becoming a rude doctor. I believe these two things to be linked. Poor socialization skills in daily life are transferable to your career if left unchecked and limit you in both. In the former, you are unable to communicate well because people find you intolerable, and in the latter you are not as effective as you can be at your job.

I want to avoid becoming the physician who defaults to unnecessary, unkind behavior for the sake of getting things done faster. I am unconvinced you can take a complete and accurate patient history without a semblance of mutual-respect and good rapport. Manners to me are as much a part of being a competent physician as the actual medicine itself. If your patients can’t stand you, then you risk becoming an out-of-work lonely person with an M.D. and a stethoscope.

Still, if one of my future colleagues is accused of poor bedside manner I won’t pretend I’m better than him/her. None of us are above making mistakes, especially in medicine. Polite behavior is about being a better version of yourself, perhaps even the best you can be, but notbeing better than others.

That is precisely why I love manners. Rude or genial, you’re still you for all of your faults and strengths. The entirety of your character has very little to do with how often you open doors for others. Being polite only demonstrates the strides you take to give the world the best of your personality. I have faith that much of human error and social transgression is forgivable when there is proof that people are trying their best.

Were it only so simple that’s all I would have to say on the matter. I admit there is a trap in all of this that is awaiting every would-be healthcare professional.

Genuine etiquette in medicine is overrun by empty gestures that do not reflect anybody’s best-self. Like lazily programmed robots, the same “sorry” and “please” accompanying every hurried command voids the intention of adding those phrases. All it proves is that the doctor, nurse, lab technician, and medical secretary are rushed, tired, and uninterested in being accused of misconduct or unprofessionalism.

Lifelessly going through the motions is about as impolite as you can get. Granted, this can happen anywhere and in many different contexts. I certainly do not place blame, I just ask you guard against this corruption of niceties.

Healthcare professionals need to be genuinely polite because the field naturally demands you navigate uncomfortable social scenarios that one-hundred years of school couldn’t prepare you for. What I’ve read, seen, and have had described to me are surreal moments far removed from the safe and sterile environment an academic institution provides. It’s rough, dirty, exhilarating, and embodies the concept of ordered chaos.

Being in the midst of that kind of mess causes people to change. The hustle and bustle of practice keeps the mind occupied. A brilliant mind, capable of holding so much complicated jargon, forgets the golden rule: you are one bad day away from becoming the patient.

So I implore you to engage in polite manner, not just half-heatedly mimic it. As part of your duty of care, ask if there’s anything else you can do and then mean what you say.  Give patients time to process, let them ask questions and let them be upset. Tomorrow it really could be you, but today it is them. Don’t be rude.

If you manage that, I would say you’re handling yourself fairly well out there. The patient comes first and letting them and those who care for them benefit from your kindness is excellent healthcare. If you could extend the same courtesy to your colleagues then you would border on the remarkable.

Why must so many of us try to become islands in our practice, surrounded by a hypersaline ocean of reputation and ego? Integrated into every science is an unavoidable dependence on preceding work and concurrent efforts. Like a sweaty musician blowing a kazoo, kicking a drum, strumming a guitar and nose- pressing piano keys, it’s kind of ridiculous to watch anyone pretend they are a good solo act in medicine.

You never work alone nor should you have to, it’s a beautiful team effort. Therefore, I ask that you act accordingly: honestly share what you can, give credit and praise often, and maybe stop watching so much House.

Please and thank you.