I’ve written about it before – clinical curiosity. It is the trait of examining a tapestry of symptoms, physical abnormalities, images, and numbers, and asking ourselves, “How can that be?” It requires avoiding or at least acknowledging our biases and assumptions. It demands that we recognize the easy answer when it is wrong.
This evening, we had the pleasure of a visit from a friend whom we haven’t seen in several years. In our evening of conversation, we heard a tale of symptoms, hospitalizations, many tests, and finally a diagnosis after 14 months of distress. My friend, a decade younger than I, a Pharmacy PhD, avid tennis player, and world traveler, is now on medical leave and headed toward a disability check.
As we chatted, I told her that the last time that I spent time with our son, an assistant professor of Infectious Diseases at a university medical center, I had lamented that sometimes it seemed to me that today’s clinicians had lost some of their clinical curiosity. He listened to my perspective and answered, “Some of them have, and that is why I tell my residents and fellows that if they don’t see some weird shit and make an unusual diagnosis every week or two, they are probably not paying attention.”
He is so right.