Many people choose their doctor based on intelligence, medical training or kindness. You also want to consider another equally important trait, something health care insiders call style. It can mean the difference between life and death. Doctor style is the variability in responses to the same clinical issue among competent physicians. It's a common topic of conversation around hospitals. Consider a nurse-to-nurse conversation I overheard recently: "How's your new doc?" "Oh, God, if she orders another test, I'm gonna die. There's never been a box on an order form she didn't want to check, or an orifice she didn't want to swab." Sigh. "Guess I deserve it for letting things go so long." "Mine thinks everything I tell him is whining. But it kind of works, since whenever I sneeze, I'm sure it's the global bird flu pandemic. The only downside to him is, when I'm really worried, I have to get his attention." Nurses learn about styles early in their education. Doctors start to get a sense of one another's style from handing off patients during their training. Here are some sample styles: Anderson crosses every t and dots every i. Just when you think that's the best way to practice medicine, one of Anderson's patients gets a horrible complication from a test he might not have needed. Then there's Breymer, who thinks everything is nothing. Just when you think he's out to lunch, you see that his patients, with a little judicious help, are getting home earlier and getting better faster than the ones waiting for that extra endoscopy. And, finally, there's worst-case-worrier Cramer. Sure, that chest pain is probably indigestion, but Cramer can list every hideous, chilling possibility. Her patients get the one test necessary to eliminate the worst option, then bam, find themselves back home, knowing their condition won't kill them, and feeling better. Spotting a doctor's style isn't difficult. You go see Dr. A with a bumpy rash on your shin, a case of pinky-toe pain and a weird hiccup. You end up with referrals to derm, podiatry and neurology. For the same symptoms, Dr. B might say, "Weird. Let's give this a couple of weeks." If so, you've got a classic minimizer doctor. Dr. C might say, "Hmm. It's not likely, but it could be Hogwart's neuroma of the ganglionic eyelash. Hang on while I set up the welder's arc." That's a worst-case-scenario doctor. Knowing your style as a patient is the first step in finding a good match. Are you a worrier? If so, a doctor who believes in a little watchful waiting will help you stay healthy. Or, do you minimize serious symptoms? You might need a doctor with a more proactive style. In my practice I tend to be a worst-case-scenario doc. But as a patient, I tend to put off everything, so I need a doctor who is going to chase things down. When I had my first daughter, I became a worrier and realized I needed a different kind of doctor for her than I needed for myself. I chose an everything-is-probably-nothing pediatrician. That saved me from spending three years awake at night watching my daughter breathe, worried that she had a rare case of Dumbledore's dimpledyspnea. Health care is a yin-yang relationship, where doctor style and patient style need to work well together. Clashing styles can be dangerous to your health. Source
