Monday, July 23, 2018

Making Great Conversationalists: Chapter One - Part Two

Before my son was born, I was a slightly-above average user of the medical system in the US.  I got an annual physical and a few same day appointments for rashes or various minor ailments that I was a bit concerned about.  Additionally, I'd need 2-3 urgent care visits for asthma, injuries or rashes that seemed to be going systematic.  (I'm a 21st level Eczema Goddess.)  About once every 5 years, one of my legs goes wonky and I return to physical therapy for a few weeks to a few months.

Since Jack's been born, I've become a medical appointment guru.  I've met so many specialists, generalists and therapists that I have difficulty listing them all.   Because of this, I feel plenty confident to discuss Steven and Teri Maxwell's odd take on "Making Great Conversationalists" at medical appointments.  Let's jump into the first "typical" example:

You are missing work to take your 14 year old son, Gerald, to a doctor because of a stomach ache he has had for the last week. You and he have been waiting in silence for 20 minutes, and now the doctor comes into the examination room.

" Hi, Gerald, my name is Dr. Grote. What can I do for you today?"

Gerald looks at you as if you were going to answer, but you nod so Gerald says, "Well, my stomach hurts."

" How long has it bothered you?" Doctor Grote queries.

" Well, I'm not sure, you know, ah, it's been a while," Gerald manages.

" It's a week yesterday, Doc," you add.

" Show me where it hurts and describe the pain."

" Right here, and it really hurts. You know?" Your son shows the doctor where it hurts.

" Would you describe it as sharp, aching, cramping, or throbbing pain?"

" Oh, maybe, no, let's see. I guess I'd say sharp," Gerald half mutters.

"Did it start quickly or gradually?"

" I don't know for sure." At this point, you are wondering what Doctor Grote thinks of your parenting skills when your teenager can't respond to him any better than this.(pg. 11)

Similarly to my critique of Cynthia's parent, the only person who is behaving neurotically in this sketch is Gerald's dad.  Personally, I foresaw that having children would mean taking them to a doctor from time to time - especially since minors need permission from a parent or guardian to receive most forms of medical treatment.  Similarly, if my spouse and I had more than one kid and both of us worked, fitting medical appointments into working schedules would require that the primary breadwinner would take time off every now and again for kids' medical appointments.  I feel like the queen of obvious for stating this - but parenthood brings mostly responsibilities and a handful of rights.  I know this - so why doesn't Steven Maxwell, the father of eight children?  His implication that Gerald's father has been greatly inconvenienced by taking his son for a needed medical appointment irritates the hell out of me.

Speaking of inconveniences - why is Gerald required to amuse his dad with conversation while Gerald's dealing with a long-term stomach ache? If I was nervous before a doctor's appointment, I tended to talk nonstop.  If I was actively feeling sick, on the other hand, I curled up into the most comfortable chair and tried to sleep until the medical assistant or doctor came in.   As I was typing this, I realized I'd never really thought of the amount of conversation I had when I was a waiting patient in a medical office.  My parents and spouse never seemed to care if I wanted to talk the entire time or attempt to sleep; they were fine either way.  This boggled my mind for a full minute before I remembered the obvious - none of us pride ourselves on being cut off from popular media.  If the sick person wanted to sleep, their driver would pull out a book, grab a magazine from the rack, enjoy the antics of healthy young children playing or watch the TV that was on.   There was no reason for the driver to be beholden on the sick person for entertainment (and expecting the sick person to do so would be viewed as childish, selfish or simply crass in my family.)

I am disturbed by the fact that a teenager still defers to his father before responding to a direct address from a doctor.  I went through a phase when I didn't know if doctors wanted to hear from me or my mom.  I was between the ages of 8-10 years old.   By the time I was a teenager, my parents had long convinced me that if the doctor addressed me that meant the doctor wanted to hear from me - not them.  Since married women don't work outside the home in CP/QF land, the parent accompanying Gerald can be assumed to be his father - and we can also assume that Dad hasn't been around 24/7 for the last week.    That's why I find Gerald's father's interruption to explain that Gerald's been sick for a week to be odd.   Gerald might have been sick for a week - or Gerald might have realized that he's been dealing with less severe, but similar symptoms for two weeks or two months.  That's why it's best to let the patient answer the question.  I've added additional information before when my husband (or parent) has been ill enough that I'm worried they missed part of the doctor's question - but that's pretty rare.

I highly doubt Dr. Grote has questioned the parenting skills of Gerald's father since Gerald's not showing any signs of abuse or neglect and Gerald is acting like a perfectly normal teenage patient.   Doctors know that patients come in a wide range of ability when it comes to describing symptoms.  It is so normal for the average patient to not know the answer to all of the doctor's questions - and doctors can make reasonable estimates of the answer sometimes.  For example, the fact that Gerald doesn't remember the sudden onset of severe, stabbing pain in a localized spot in his abdomen makes a decent case to assume the pain came on gradually.   I'm sure doctors like it when they can figure out most of the medical clues from the discussion with the patient - but the doctor also uses a physical exam as well as blood tests to confirm the doctor's diagnosis.

My final two cents - Gerald's dad is more worried about what the doctor thinks about the dad as a father than he is that his son has been having sharp abdominal pains for a week.  That's seriously messed up. 

Let's look at the "ideal" conversation:

Let's look at how the interaction could go if Gerald has learned how to talk to others, answer questions, provide information, and carry on a conversation.

" Dad, I sure hope Dr. Grote will give me something for the stomachache. I really don't want to miss choir practice tomorrow night. I already missed last week's practice."

" Son, I hope so too. What songs are you learning in choir right now?"

Your father and son conversation goes on for the 20-minute wait, and then Dr. Grote enters the room.

" Hi, Gerald, my name is Dr. Grote. What can I do for you today?"

" Well, sir, I've had this sharp pain in my stomach for the last week."

Dr. Grote nods and asks, "Why don't you lay back on the table here and point to where exactly it is hurting?"

" It's right here. It hurts the worst for about an hour after I eat. Then it is better, but it never really goes away. I have tried taking TUMS for it, but that hasn't helped. My mom thought I should try the BRAT diet which was bananas, rice, applesauce, and toast. I did that for two days, but there wasn't any difference."

Gerald's interaction with Dr. Grote is one with which you could be pleased. He answers questions, gives extra useful information, and is easy to understand. The time before the doctor came into the room was profitable fellowship between you and your son. (pgs 11-12)

See, Maxwell likes the second situation much more because the father gets entertained for 20 minutes followed by having his son perform well for the doctor.   Ironically, the conversation between the doctor and son has revealed less information in the second conversation than the first one.  In the first conversation, the doctor learns the place and severity of the pain, the fact that the pain has been around for at least a week, but possibly longer and that the pain came on gradually.     In the second conversation, the doctor has learned the position, severity of pain and length of time the pain has been present - but the implication changed so that the pain started clearly one week ago and nothing has been said about if it was gradual or sudden. 

  Now, Gerald offered a whole bunch of information about his eating habits and the effect on the pain - but not all abdominal pain is related to food.   I have this mental image of Gerald pointing at an area of his lower abdomen that could be related to things like his bladder, appendix or prostate while reciting how his family has been trying to treat that using the BRAT diet and TUMS.  (Added bonus that Gerald is a boy; a similar spot in a girl could be one of a dozen issues with the reproductive system.)

Throughout this book, the Maxwells include tidbits that show incidentally how isolated they've become from interacting with other human beings.  The example here is that Gerald feels compelled to explain the BRAT diet to his pediatrician or family practitioner.  Trust me; Dr. Grote knows what the BRAT diet is.  Dr. Grote is more than capable of explaining why the BRAT diet works well at quelling certain gastrointestinal issues - and why the BRAT diet will make other issues worse.  If Dr. Grote works in a diverse practice, he knows how to adapt the BRAT diet for recent immigrants who don't regularly eat applesauce or toast.    I remember my mom explaining the BRAT diet to me when I was a teenager in terms of teaching me a form of good self-care when recovering from a stomach bug.  The diet made a lot of sense to me - and I assumed that most - if not all - adults knew the rough outline of the BRAT diet. 

I hope you enjoyed this section as much as I did - the best is yet to come!  The next post is on when your son calls the father of the girl he's sweet on to ask permission to court. 

10 comments:

  1. "Dad, I sure hope Dr. Grote will give me something for the stomachache. I really don't want to miss choir practice tomorrow night. I already missed last week's practice."

    "Son, I hope so too. What songs are you learning in choir right now?"

    That's some of the most stilted silliness I've ever seen. "Fellowship"?? These people are freaking robots! Perfect children sorry about missing choir practice and making sure to draw attention to their mommy's admirable eating advice? And amen to the selfish expectation that your kid either entertain you or do you proud when they're in pain. Grow up!

    I haven't even finished the post and I want to throw something at Maxwell. What's he going to write next? How to make sure your wife flatters you in childbirth?

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    1. Oh, Lord. Don't give him ideas about other times that everyone must be picture perfect.

      My family views it as a good doctor's appointment if the driver is not barfed on at any point by the sick person. It's a simple dream - but I apparently barfed on my mom multiple times when I was hopped up on Dilaudid as a kidney stone drilled its way through my ureter and my body tried to fight off the UTI I picked up. My dad barfs at the slightest hint of an opiate in his system, too, so we're the family who shows up at an ER with a book and change of clothes for the driver....

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  2. Don't 14 year olds usually go in alone, at least initially? Mine always suggested that. Parent comes in later, but the teen needs a moment for confidential details.

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    1. I doubt the Maxwells would be okay with allowing a teen unsupervised contact with a doctor - the doctor might ask the teen if they're sexually active or otherwise corrupt them.

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    2. I went about it the other way because I was a super-nervous teenager. I'd go in with a parent first - and then have time alone once I had settled down a bit.

      And my doctor would have made confidential time happen even if the parents were the Maxwells - but our family looks for very strong personality doctors since we're a bit on the stubborn side ourselves.

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  3. I just find it really sad that in this situation the Maxwells seem to put a premium on how well their kids are performing for others, rather than meeting their kids' needs. If your kid is having medical issues, why would you expect them to be a "great conversationalist" in that moment? That's a pretty cruel expectation.

    tbh, I hadn't heard of the BRAT diet, but growing up if I had an upset stomach I'd be getting tea and toast, which seems reasonably similar.

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    1. Even as an adult, my conversational skills go to hell in a handbasket when I'm sick. Normally, I'm engaging and fun to be around. When I'm sick, I'm a bit like a cat - completely silent and curled into the smallest ball I can make.

      The BRAT diet is just a handy way of remembering that sick stomachs do best on a high-carbohydrate, low-fat, low-protein and low fiber diet for a day or two. Carbs are broken down by enzymes in the mouth and by the small intestine and move quickly through the stomach so it's a good way to get food without stressing the stomach. Fats and fiber, on the other hand, tend to sit in the stomach without being broken down so they cause the stomach to contract repeatedly over a few hours which is miserable if you're sick. Protein is equally bad because most of the chemical digestion happens in the stomach so eating a high protein meal causes the stomach to work at full-gear....

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  4. The whole idea of making a sick kid do a pageant routine for his appearance-obsessed father and the doctor is just ...why? And I am more than a little concerned that poor Gerald - fearing a lecture from Pa about how any failure to be engaging and entertaining to adults at all times tarnishes his family, his church, Jesus Christ himself and most importantly of all *his father*! - will be so talkative that the doctor will decide that any kid this chatty can't be in very much pain, and misses a serious problem. Well, never mind, think of how great Dad will look witnessing to all the folks in hospital while Gerald's having an emergency appendectomy!

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  5. That conversation sounds like a particularly stilted scene from “Leave it to Beaver,” not like a real conversation between a parent and a teenager. It’s also weirdly formal and, revealingly, seems like to reveal that Dad is not really much in tune with what’s going on in his son’s life. Why does it take 20 minutes of being forced to wait for a doctor on a sick visit (not a regular occurence) with nothing else to do BUT talk for Dad to find out basic things about what Gerald is doing all day? In my home as a teenager, this is the kind of thing that would have just come out over the course of a day’s interaction—helping my mom or dad with dinner, or all sitting at the table together or whatever. I was super into choir at that age too and so I talked about it. We pretty much always had at least a basic idea of what was important or fun or not-fun in each other’s lives. It just happens during normal family interaction.

    But then, we actually HAD normal family interaction. Because my parents we’re stretched so thin with either caring for loads of kids or supporting loads of kids that they didn’t have time to take interest in us and listen to us unless we were stuck in a boring waiting room together. Conversation was just something that happened over the course of a normal day, not an interview that I periodically underwent because it’s Conversation With The Kids Time (which, again, it is because there’s nothing else for Dad to do.) The Maxwells reveal a lot more about themselves than about other families here. It sounds like it’s them who suck at conversing with their children, probably because they never had much time to give them any individual attention. If you and your kid are generally caught up with each other’s lives in general and communicating on a regular, casual basis, sitting in silence in a waiting room because the kid is tired or stressed or just not feeling talkative is no big deal.

    And, yeah, it is super weird that Steve Maxwell seems to be conflating conversational skills with being able to report symptoms to a doctor in clear detail. Those are definitely two completely different things and, yeah, doctors know that people often answer those kinds of questions very vaguely.

    Dr. Grote might be judging Dad a little though—I would certainly find it weird if a 14-year-old deferred to a parent on a direct medical question at s doctor’s appointment. That is too old to be doing that. I don’t even think my mom even came in with me anymore at that age, unless I wanted her to for some reason. I was perfectly capable of talking to the doctor myself and wasn’t glued to her. But my parents also were aiming to raise kids who would be independent adults one day and that, of course, was never the Maxwells’ goal.

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  6. Yeah, if I were that doctor the second scenario would make me wonder what's REALLY going on with that family. I can't believe this guy thinks that's actually a normal way to behave at a doctor's visit.

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