Monday, May 23, 2016

So Long, Dr. Burke

Dr. Curtis Burke is retiring from medicine. 

His letter was sent to his patients a few weeks ago.  Observing his past thirteen years of serving as a family physician in Sevierville he wrote “many things have changed in those years, including the very nature of the practice of medicine and my personal convictions about practicing medicine.”  

He continued. “I believe that the foundation of quality primary medical care is the unique, personal relationship between the patient and the physician.” 

Those words could not have been more accurately stated, nor backed with more credibility from the person who wrote them.  

Dr. Burke is in the same age range I am - circling 50 and wondering where the 40’s went.  He arrived in Sevierville a few years after I did in 2000.  He took the reigns of a full practice from Dr. Sonner and hit the ground running with thick charts and busy days. 

We shared many times in the hospital hallways, physician’s dictation room, and late nights making evening rounds.  We shared call which means he would care for my patients (and the other physicians in our group) during the night and on weekends.  

A lot is learned by observing how a physician writes his orders, thinks through problems, dictates a history and physical, and then a discharge summary.  My residency hammered this into us, no matter if it was 3 AM, the structure had to be good, assessment logical, and plan concise.  This is how you learn if a physician knows what he is doing.  

(I worked very hard in residency to craft my dictations so that they would be structured, numbered, indented, and full of pertinent facts.  This, of course, was a chore for the dear ladies in the transcription room in the belly of the hospital.  Therefore, I would occasionally dictate with a thick accent or with my best Elvis impersonation. They have not missed me.)

I quickly learned Dr. Burke was a great physician managing orders and paper charts, but came to appreciate that he has that hidden quality some physicians possess, and some don’t.  

When he looks at a patient he sees more than the problem.  He cares more than the moment.  He is there for the patient’s long term well-being.  

I saw him take nineteen admissions on one weekend (typical was six) and never say a negative word.  I have witnessed Dr. Burke serving the local hospital with countless hours on committees required to keep a hospital staff in order. He also served as Chief of Staff over all the physicians.  

It takes a physician to straighten out physician behaviour, and he did that, too.  With kindness.  

He was the quarterback on the physician team that beat the hospital team in a fund raising football game.  He was an automatic choice for the job, and rarely did a throw miss the mark.  His son, showing the same grit, made an interception for Sevier County in a high school game - while wearing a cast on his broken arm.  

But, according to his letter, he is leaving a profession he trained for the majority of his life, to now farm.  

What has happened to the practice of medicine that a solid, hard-working, talented and dedicated physician would walk away in the prime of his career? Who, or what, did this? 

Ironically, as I sat down to write my notes for this column, a five page letter from a Big Health Insurance Corporation (“Big HIC”) came across my desk.  Big HIC had determined that my patient needed a certain test and so they dispatched a technician and the machine to her house.  Oh, you her personal physician who has seen her for ten years, might like a copy of the result. Why, thank you, Big HIC.  

This was followed by another letter that has my “Report Card” in it.  Measurements of my average labs for diabetic patients, percentage of patients screened, percentage of patients getting colonoscopies, etc., for Big HIC were included.  

The data is always flawed.  Its collection is flawed.  Therefore, the results are flawed.  

I will show the Big HIC representative that a number of the patients on the list I have never even seen.  That is usually when the attractive female Big HIC representative will become uncomfortable and want to end the meeting.  I actually caused one to leave my office crying once.  My wife and my office manager made me apologize - which I did.  I did not apologize for standing on the facts, though.  

The relationship between a physician and patient has been irreparably wounded by the laws written by the government connected with the strings of money controlling puppet insurance companies.  We, the physicians, began allowing this to happen in the 1960’s.  There is enough blame to go around, but the laws create the field the game is played on.  

And so this community - already needing physicians - loses an excellent young one.  Dr. Burke’s ambition in life has been for the better health of his patients.  I am confident that his farm - neat rows, clean tools, vibrant plants - will provide healthy produce and, in a roundabout sort of way, continue contributing to the good health of those who consume it.  

Curtis, thank you for your devoted service to this community and your friendship to me.  I look forward to seeing your farm someday.  You will be missed. 

Eric J. Littleton, M.D. (@DrEricLittleton) is a musician and Family Physician in Sevierville, TN.  Topics covered are general in nature and should not be used to change medical treatments and/or plans without first discussing with your physician. Send questions to askdrlittleton@gmail.com

Tuesday, May 10, 2016

Coach Bell

“Coach Bell died today.”

Those were the words I shared with two of my best friends since childhood last week. 

Both friends are hard nosed football coaches who learned their craft in the backyard playing tackle football without helmets.  Both gave me my earliest lessons in concussion.  Both were moved to sadness and near tears as the sudden news swept their memories.  

Joel Fred Bell came to Harriman, Tennessee to be an assistant football coach after graduating from Carson Newman in the early 1980’s.  He was a man of unusual strength.  A strength not merely measured by weight lifting but of real strength from hard work, inner determination and faith.   

We were a pitiful team posting a 0-10 season when he arrived.  We made excuses.  We whined and complained.  We had a locker room full of mirrors and not enough sweat.  

He changed that.  He expanded our weight room.  He gave us individual workout schedules.  He held us accountable to being there or suffering the consequences:  answering to him and that look he could give.  

He never boasted about his football career.  He didn’t have to.  When Ricky Taylor became our first player to attempt 300 pounds on the bench press the team stood and watched as one of our greatest athletes nearly succeeded.  

When Ricky got up, Coach Bell slid in under the bar, took it in hand and - in a quick one, two, three, four, five, reps of the same 300 pounds - said more than we had ever heard from a coach.  

The clang of the weights was the only sound in the room until he quipped, “Back to work.”  We did.   

He taught us toughness.  His treatment plan for injuries in practice was “Get up and quit killin’ the grass.”  He thought we weren’t intense enough in one pre-game warm up so he got in the middle of the bull ring to call us out one by one.  I was called out first. I still have a scar on my chin from the forearm he gave me.  

We had great success my senior year from his determined motivation and intensity.  His defensive schemes had never been seen before at Harriman.  Our opponents were perplexed at the change of our usual garden variety defense into an intense swarm of players.  He had that effect on the field.  

That was over thirty years ago.  His greatest impact, though, still lives on.  

Young athletes, scholars and musicians begin to learn in their teens their natural gifts and talents.  It is the dedication and investment of coaches, teachers and parents that creates the environment where the young adult may develop those gifts by refining them with habits and determination.  Wasted talent breaks a mentor’s heart.  

Team first, me second.  Delayed gratification.  No complaining.  No excuses.  No whining.  Be accountable.  Be on time.  Be where you are supposed to be.  Do what you are supposed to do.  THINK!

The list of careers his players achieved is remarkable for a small town.  Nuclear engineer for the Navy.  Three football coaches, one of whom coached a state championship team.  US Marshall.  Award winning high school principal.  Engineer at Oak Ridge.  Accountant for the City of Atlanta. All good men and close friends.  

Great coaches build character before they ever build a team.  But great coaches must have character before they ever hope to build it in others.  

His love for us came from his love and devotion in his faith.  He left Harriman and to teach in his home of Cocke County and became a loving husband, father and grandfather.  His devotion to the Gideons, his church, family, friends and neighbors was demonstrated with a quick smile, genuine inquiry of interest, and a consistent “I’ll pray for you.”  

And you knew he didn’t just say it.  He did it.  

I will join my lifelong friends and fellow football players this Saturday to pay our respects to our coach and share our condolences to his family.  A coach who changed our view of ourselves, each other, and the world.  He showed us what it takes to overcome adversity, tough breaks, bad habits and bad attitude.  

A man who showed us how to not be afraid to express love.  A man who died far too young yet lived life fully.  

I have now witnessed the passing of my dad, father-in-law and coach in less than one year.  All three had great work ethic, character and deep faith.  I am trained by my profession to push back the inevitability of death as far as possible, but when it occurs, the memories, love and lessons must, and will, live on in my own life.   

Rest in peace, Coach.