In the first week of November, I needed my doctor to assess a painful condition and recommend remediation. The first visit achieved diagnosis and treatment and in the follow-up, the doctor reviewed the results of my laboratory tests. My “labs” were generally fine, but the main thing that I can truly remember Dr. Curry saying is, “you’re a skinny guy.” I cloud-walked out of her office.
Early in December I heard an NPR program discussion of the differences in outcomes when patients are cared for by female physicians versus male physicians. In an article published in JAMA Internal Medicine, a study found “that approximately 32,000 fewer patients would die if male physicians could achieve the same outcomes as female physicians every year.” In the online version of the broadcast, two doctors, who met as (they) were getting (started) in medicine, discuss the study. Sara-Anne Henning Schumann is a family doctor and serves as Medical Director of Community Health Directions in Tulsa, OK. Her husband, John Henning Schumann, is an internal medicine doctor and the president of the University of Oklahoma’s Tulsa campus.
Dr. Sarah-Anne Henning Schumann said that the study shows that “if female doctors, on average, communicate better, their style might be more effective in treating disease and preventing death.” Her husband, Dr. John Henning Schumann said that his older patients “prefer that (he) tell them what to do rather than … discuss options and share decision-making.” His wife noted that, though she is a family doctor, trained to see adults and kids, and he is an internist, trained to see only adults, their family members on both sides will seek the husband’s medical opinion, “even about kids.” John conceded that this is an example of “male privilege,” but wondered if the message that people will take home from the study is that they need to choose female doctors. Sarah-Anne noted that that would be an oversimplification that some would make, but said that if “communication is key … then we need to select and train medical students to exhibit these qualities.” But before I had heard and read any of that, I had decided that I loved my doctor.
I have not been Dr. Curry’s patient long, but my first visit to her set the tone for my future feelings. She bounced brightly into the exam room, where I waited in a chair, smiled, and looked directly at me. She appeared to be a female “Doogie Howser,” and all of twelve years old. Still, she conveyed confidence and competence and I never doubted her medical acumen. My second visit to her was because I was in screaming pain from what she would identify as a gout flare-up. My third visit was a follow-up to the second, with a review of my labs. This is when she called me “a skinny guy.”
My visits to doctors in recent years have been the result of medical catastrophes; a broken leg when I was 35 years old and at age 52, a burst duodenum. Both incidents resulted in an ambulance ride to a hospital for emergency care, though the stomach explosion was far more life-threatening. But for the most part, I have maintained a healthy lifestyle, aided by a cessation of cigarette smoking. Dr. Curry listened to me, noted what I said and made some recommendations for my future. I am not a skinny guy; my weight is appropriate for my height and my health is generally good (though I “could lose five pounds.”) But she did say “you’re a skinny guy.”
I love my doctor.