A Lifetime Investment

A mass e-mail flashed across my inbox one day in early 2007 that read, “Sixteen faculty will be selected to participate in a four-year longitudinal teaching experience beginning in the summer of 2007. We are seeking committed clinician educators who are able to dedicate a significant amount of time to this important teaching endeavor.” I decided to give it a try and was delighted to be among those selected. A rigorous faculty development course ensued, and before I knew it, I had received a slip of paper with a list of names that I would come to know quite well—my “small group.” From their very first day of medical school, I have taught, mentored, laughed, cried, and learned with these seven remarkable individuals. I always thought work was fulfilling, but now it has taken on a whole new definition. These seven wonders are pushing me to a completely different level, making me yearn to be a better doctor, a better person, and the best role model. I still recall when my group agreed to raise money for and participate in our local AIDS walk. As we prepared to file out of the room after one of our weekly meetings leading up to the event, one student asked, “So, tell us, Dr. Manning, what do you think students really need to know about caring for HIV-positive patients?” I paused for a second, and then answered carefully, “You know what? No matter what the diagnosis, I think I just try to always remember that every patient was once somebody’s baby.” Before I could say anything more, they had all left the room and disappeared into the stairwell. A few weeks, two bake sales, and several donations later, we proudly convened on an early Sunday morning for the AIDS walk. This particular year, pieces of the AIDS Memorial Quilt were on display for walk participants. As we took in the magnitude of the quilt with awe, one student said solemnly, “You were right. Every patient was once somebody’s baby.” In that instant, it dawned on me that they were really listening to me and internalizing my words and actions, underscoring the paramount importance of professionalism and responsible role modeling. Time has flown by, and now my seven students are wrapping up their preclinical experience. The naïveté has begun to wane, and knowledge is increasing. And with this growing medical maturity, I must loosen the reins a bit—and that’s not always easy. The mother in me wants them to remain babies forever, clapping hysterically with every little milestone reached. That’s what’s unique about this teaching experience. We have built relationships that have deepened week after week. And while, yes, I have formed lasting bonds with other learners, never has an assignment left me so invested. I intensely want them to be the doctors who listen, who stand up for the little guy, and who think about their patients before closing their eyes at night. I want them to hold a scared patient’s trembling hand, even if it is a little clammy, and I want them to say please and thank you to everyone from the head nurse to the cafeteria lady. I hope they will always regard every patient, whatever their circumstances, as somebody’s beloved baby. For the first time, I feel personally responsible for leading them to that place. In two years, my students will march into commencement, all clad in medical school regalia. And on that day, the pinnacle of medical school milestones, I will leap to my feet and clap hysterically one last time as my seven babies all take their first steps toward becoming role models for the next generation of learners. Kimberly D. Manning, MD Dr. Manning is assistant professor of medicine, Division of General Medicine, Emory University School of Medicine, Atlanta, Georgia; ([email protected]).

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