I’m a resident in a elaborate hospital in New York. We focus rather a lot on value-based care, and technological improvements, and excessive reliability. This yr, we’re opening a multimillion-dollar new facility for specialty medical companies. Our outside areas have stone lions and grassy promenades. Our cafe serves world-class meals.
At present, throughout a gorgeous new spring morning, I watched my colleagues sit, in disbelief and despair, crying with one another or amongst themselves, in our stunning courtyards. Somebody we knew died right now, probably by her personal hand.
Our management talks about wellness, and burnout, and resiliency in residency. However our hospital doesn’t discuss doctor suicide till it occurs. Our handbook has no actual insurance policies for sick days (each shift have to be lined, and people and not using a physician’s notice are required to pay again days), or parental go away (organized on a case by case foundation, utilizing paid trip time as the inspiration, and clinic time for the rest). Our incapacity insurance coverage is imprecise on the small print of compensation for psychological well being sicknesses, an occupational hazard. Our retirement investments will not be matched by our hospital group, regardless of being one of many wealthiest hospitals within the nation. This yr, they rolled again the 80-hour workweek limitations, permitting interns to as soon as once more work 27+ hour shifts.
Medication suffers from a tradition of silence. We work to the bone, overlook to care for ourselves, get sick, go insane. We kill ourselves at a better fee than nearly another occupation. And when that occurs, our management sends out emails with condolences, and a hyperlink to a company psychiatric referral.
We will do higher. Our management can do higher. As residents, it’s time we remind them how priceless we really are, not solely in our work, however in our personhood as effectively. Our lives matter, too.
The writer is an nameless doctor.
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