When patients trust their doctors: a touching story of faith and medicine


I enter the exam room, met by a faint but lovely strawberry fragrance. Mrs. B. rests comfortably on an office chair; she always eschews the exam table. In her 80s, she is a formidable woman, heavyset, her deep brown skin somewhat pale, yet she sparkles in a long, bright, flowery dress, glasses with large silver frames, one hand resting on a cane of knotty oak. Her two adult sons stand nearby, respectfully quiet.

We have our usual visit, chatting a bit, listening to her heart and lungs, and examining her legs, dark and woody. She is here for a hospital follow-up, improved, “back to baseline” as we like to say.

“How long have I got, doc? Is the end near?” she asks.

I review her medical problems in my mind—late-stage heart failure, diabetes with several end-organ complications, and a prior stroke, not to mention the recent hospitalization. There’s a parade of concerned specialists leaving notes on her chart, but this moment comes down to me, her primary care doctor. My face flushes with the usual embarrassment I feel when I utter these words: “To be honest, I don’t know.” I wait for her and her sons to express their disappointment. Maybe a “better” doctor would know the answer.

But she responded differently than I expected. She sighs a bit, smiles at me, and calmly speaks. “I thought you might say that, and that’s OK … because I give it all to God.” Her sons nod in silent agreement.

“Doc, I don’t expect you to have all the answers, but I know in my heart that God gave you the talent to be a doctor and that God works through you.”

I am gobsmacked by her statement; it’s one I haven’t heard in a long while. Patients generally desire definitive answers. Yet, in her way, she trusts me, even in the face of uncertainty.

I thank her, and we talk about the mystery of life and death and how you never really know when the end will come. After a brief handshake, we both stand, and I touch her shoulder. Looking into her eyes in that brief moment, I feel cared for. We part company—each feeling our own sort of peace.

Jennifer Tillman is a family medicine physician.


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