Dear doctor, nurse, nurse practitioner, anesthesist, and other healthcare worker who drew the short straw and thus has unfortunately been fated to be my medical provider:
I understand that during your education to become a professional, you took whole classes in bedside manner. I understand that many patients you work with, particularly in surgical clinics, are nervous, scared, frightened, anxious (insert your favorite synonym from Mr. Roget here). I understand that many of them are confused, and need comforting, reassuring, and hand-holding.
I am not that patient. Sorry.
I absolutely trust you to take the best care of me possible, or else I would not be in your office/clinic. But I still want to know what’s going on, and have some say in my treatment. And I don’t want to be spoken to like I’m a 5-year-old. I still want information, even as I trust you to do your job. I’m funny that way.
Tell you what: if you ever come to me to draft your wills, or review a contract, or represent you in litigation, I promise to do my best for you, and you can trust me. But I won’t talk to you like a kindergartner, and I will give you every scrap of information you ask for. And after I give you the best advice possible, I’ll let you make the decisions.
That is all.
