Behind the Smile: A Grateful Patient's Insight into Physician Burnout

I was lying in the street, blood flowing from my body, and 2 bones sticking out where my hand used to be. The world came to a stop, and I had to make a decision.

It is one thing to think about life and death when death isn't staring you in the face.

But, lying there, knowing that closing my eyes in that moment meant going to sleep forever, is something that is hard to put into words. The world comes to a halt and thoughts come to you in a way that you never even knew was possible.

I was in pain, I was scared, and I knew that my chance of survival was dependent on how long it took to get me on an operating room table.

I layed there in the street, cars driving by and chaos all around me, but my thoughts were crystal clear.

I was fine with losing my hand, but I wasn't sure that I had enough fight in me if I was paralyzed.
So, I looked at my feet, said a prayer, and watched to see if they would move when my brain told them to....
And they did!

It was almost like I had that flight or fight moment, but I got to decide which path I chose. When my feet moved, the fight was on!

For sake of not writing a novel, I will save the details for another day, but I remember waking up from surgery at Loyola and not quite being sure whether I was alive or dead.

I turned my head and saw my wife sitting next to me tears rolling down her face. The surgeons told her that the surgery went well, and this was the first moment since my accident hours earlier that she could finally take a breath of relief.

She said, "the doctor couldn't promise, but he is confident you will walk again, and... the hand surgeon is confident that you will keep your hand!"

I was in utter shock, and burst into tears. When they were rolling me into the operating room, I kept a straight face, but I was silently scared to death that I couldn't be the same person without my right hand.

Lying in the street, I didn't even know that saving my hand was in the realm of possibility, and now I was being told that it was a likely reality.

I have no idea what those surgeons had planned for that day.
I have no idea what burdens or stress they had on their shoulders when my trauma call came in.

What I have since learned from connecting with many physicians is that burnout is a much more serious issue than any of us know as patients.

For me, that is 'my' story. It was 'one' major event for me.

But, for the docs, they are a part of everybody's 'one' major event. As soon as they patched me up, they were on to the next patient.

These surgeons dropped everything to be the beacon of light for my family while we were bearing a bigger burden and more stress than we had ever experienced.

I had many months of recovery, lying in a bed wondering why this happened, and wondering why I survived it. It is a very unusual feeling to try to wrap your head around all of those emotions and feelings. When you truly realize that waking up tomorrow is not guaranteed, you start to view every aspect of life through a different lens.

I knew I had to do something to give back, and I knew I had to do something big. The gift that I received was bigger than anything I was capable of, but somehow I had to share my gifts with the medical world. I just didn't quite know what that was.

I knew my skills and the medical world was an unusual grouping. I knew there were problems that I could help solve, but I wasn't quite sure where to start.

The more I connected with physicians, the more deeply I understood their burdens, and where I could fit in as their beacon.

I was able to learn a little more about Kim Downey’s story today (I will share a link at the bottom to her story).

After hearing her story, I did some research about physician suicide and the real-life toll of physician burnout.

I imagined being in Kim's shoes.

I imagined walking into a follow-up appointment and learning that one of the surgeons who hold such a special place in my heart had taken their own life.

It brought me to tears to think that these people who saved my life could very easily be close to the breaking point in their own life.

I decided to share a part of my story today because there is a disconnect between patients and physicians.

We as patients never see the struggle behind the scrubs. You manage to put on a smile each time you walk into the room, and you manage to put aside all personal burdens when it is time to go to work.

At the end of the day, we truly take for granted that we have life-saving medical care available to us 24 hours per day. No matter when our 'life's worst moment' strikes, you are there.

I don't know what the future looks like in medicine, and I don't have the answers for the burdens that physicians keep behind their smiles, but I do know that we need to do something. I need to do something.

If it were not for those Loyola physicians, my wife would be raising 7 kids on her own right now.

If it weren't for those physicians, I wouldn't be sitting here typing out my story with my right hand.

A recent survey showed that 10% of physicians had considered suicide (link at bottom of the article).

I was at the University of Chicago with my wife for multiple doctor's appointments yesterday. We saw more than 10 doctors during our day there.

Statistically, 1 of those doctors had considered suicide before. But yesterday, they all had a smile on their face.

That is a very scary realization to me. The strength that it takes to hide the burdens of life behind a smile is the same strength that is pushed to the limits by those burdens.

Whenever I tell someone about the doctors who saved my life, I always make sure to say they saved my life and my "quality of life."

Because, saving a life is one thing, but saving someone's quality of life...

saving a person’s ability to dream again...
saving their ability to hug their kids again...
saving their ability to feel purpose in life again...

That is something much greater than just making sure their heart keeps beating.

I don't know what the future holds for myself, and I don't know what the future holds for Grand Vision, but I do know one thing:

We will do whatever we can to eliminate that 10% number from the survey, and

We will do whatever we can to save the quality of life for the 90%.

There can often be a fine line between a blessing and a curse.

We are very blessed to have the medical care that we do, but the toll that it can take is a curse that we cannot ignore.

To all physicians: Thank you for what you do. We deeply appreciate your dedication.
As super-human as you seem to us, we realize you are just a human behind that smile, and your life is just as valuable as ours.

Here is a link to an interview I did with the full details of my story: https://youtu.be/_1kdb3wcs_M?si=xM_giDbqOMI7aLlj
Here is a link to Kim’s story: https://youtu.be/vseVbxx8kKI?si=9i9Jg4U5Yhc7HHLo
Link to Medscape article on physician suicide rates: https://www.medscape.com/viewarticle/989674?form=fpf