SOCIAL

  THE WAY I SEE IT

SINGLE-SERVING ENCOUNTERS

WE MUST BE BOTH ALL AND NOTHING TO OUR PATIENTS

THESE PAST few years I have been on the road a lot. In Great Falls, Mont., as I write this piece, I can’t help but feel like my life is a direct reflection of the media. (Check out George Clooney in Up in the Air.)

The movie that resonates with me most right now is Fight Club. Have you seen it? The narrator is sitting on an airplane when he first encounters Tyler Durden, who proclaims:

“Everywhere I travel, tiny life. Single-serving sugar, single-serving cream, single pat of butter. The microwave cordon bleu hobby kit. Shampoo-conditioner combos, sample-packaged mouthwash, tiny bars of soap. The people I meet on each flight? They’re single-serving friends.”

BRIEF ENCOUNTERS

Think about how brilliant that statement is. We meet people everywhere for brief periods. You strike up a conversation with the person at the grocery store, while you’re pumping gas or maybe even in the bathroom stall (“You can’t spare three squares?”).

You never know how these encounters will influence your life, for better or worse. I tend to believe that each encounter has the ability to make some impact — think The Butterfly Effect — and, thus, I try to avoid them at all costs. My single-serving “friends” on the airplane get a large order of “dead air” or snoring from me, depending on the time.

A SLIPPERY SLOPE

However, the place I cannot avoid ordering up a mouthful of single-serving compadrés is in the exam room. That’s where all the magic happens. As doctors of the eye, we restore vision, dispense medical advice, cure ailments and make “friends.” Yet, what a slippery slope we are traversing! We often rely on these single-serving encounters to help build a rapport with our patients. We have to be friendly and engaging while maintaining a professional relationship.

I remember years ago working with some employees who would have given “SNL” Celebrity Jeopardy’s Sean Connery (à la Darrell Hammond) a run for his money. These employees were not hired for their work experience — oh, no. Rather, they were patients (“friends”) who came in so often, I figured I might as well start paying them. Our “friendship” led to their employment, an unwise business decision. Lesson learned.

Our “friends” leave cards for their businesses, investment opportunities and restaurant menus. The most heinous action of all? “Can you sponsor my child for. . .” Oh, yes. This is a well-oiled blade that needs to be dulled on many occasions.

It’s funny, though, because years ago, I quipped to a patient, “OK, my friend . . .” to which she replied “Friend? Oh, we are not friends!” Of course, I took every single-serving opportunity with her after that to reinforce how ridiculous her statement was. No, our patients aren’t our friends. But isn’t it nicer that we carry on this charade during the exam?

ALL AND NOTHING

In the end, though, we need to be all and nothing to our patients. For this lowly O.D. just trying to get a nut, I approach each exam by the maxim, “What would Tyler Durden Do?” OM

MARC BLOOMENSTEIN O.D., M.B.A., currently practices at Schwartz Laser Eye Center in Scottsdale, Ariz. He is a founding member of the Optometric Council on Refractive Technology. Email him at mbloomenstein@gmail.com, or visit tinyurl.com/OMcomment to comment on this article.