Unexpected Encounter: A Reflection on Patient Impact and Healing

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A few weeks ago, I published a Reflection on the “forgotten faces.” In this Reflection, I discussed how, as physicians and providers, we treat so many patients throughout our busy shifts and stretches of working days that often, patients blur together, making it difficult to remember their names and who they are.

I posted that Reflection on a Thursday morning. Ironically, or coincidentally, what I described in my Reflection happened to me again, but this time, I was on the physician's side of it.

I went to the pharmacy to pick up my medication. When I walked in, I heard a familiar voice in front of me. They were checking out at the front. The person turned around, we briefly made eye contact, and then they passed me by.

Nah, I don’t recognize them.

I took a step forward in line.

“Excuse me, are you a surgeon at the hospital?”

I turned around—it was the person with the familiar voice who passed by me.

“No, I’m sorry. I’m a medicine doctor.”

“Do you really not recognize me?”

My face probably looked as red as the gnarly sunburn I got on my arms. I stared at them, hoping my brain could find the memory of this person. Was it a patient? Colleague? Stranger? Did they mistake me for someone else? They did think I was a surgeon. Again, as I said in the previous Reflection, I have a pretty recognizable face—unique glasses and a beard.

They then chimed in once they knew I could not put a name to the face.

“I’m Rachel Smith*. I knew you were on one of my care teams!”

My heart stopped, and my mouth dropped.

And then it clicked. This was a patient I cared for both times when I was on my liver rotation. They were incredibly sick (as most patients with decompensated cirrhosis are), and my main job was to work them up for a liver transplant ASAP. During the first rotation, we got them a liver, but the donor's liver fell through. The second time I was on the rotation, they were back for a decompensated event—truly so sick we thought they wouldn’t make it.

When I finished the rotation, they were still hospitalized. I was following them to see what would happen.

Fortunately, they ended up getting a liver transplant without complications. I was so incredibly happy.

At the time, I knew I would never see them again, but I was content about the transplant.

Until now, when they stood in front of me. This patient was a completely different person. I couldn’t stop smiling in front of them. They looked so healthy and energized, walking with a spring in their step. A complete 180 from the two times I cared for them.

Now, this isn’t a story about the moment I decided to go into hepatology (I’m still set on pulmonary/critical care). Rather, it’s a reminder that we physicians and providers do good work, and sometimes, we need to be reminded of the good that we provide. Especially for those of us working in the hospital, we don’t see the patients again after they’re discharged (unless they’re readmitted). So it’s tough to know how we did or how we impacted a patient’s life. Now, I’m not saying I’m the sole reason this patient got a liver transplant and their life was turned around—transplant is 100% a team effort. But I was definitely part of it!

After chatting with them for a few minutes, I told them, “Look… my wife and I just had a new baby a couple of days ago, but you just made my entire week.”

I said goodbye, picked up my meds, and went home smiling.

*The patient’s name was changed.