Love/Hate Situation
Dr. Cucina uses an online custom supplier of medical lab coats with extra, zippered pockets on the inside and outside. He’s careful not to let the lab coat of out his sight when he takes it off.
Randy Ferrance, MD, a hospitalist in internal medicine and pediatrics at Riverside Tappahannock Hospital in Tappahannock, Va., acknowledges his own love-hate relationship with the lab coat. In his pockets, he carries a stack of 3-by-5-inch index cards, an 8.5-by-11-inch hospital census sheet, folded over, a prescription pad, a highlighter pen and spare pens, the ubiquitous stethoscope, an EKG caliper, a reflex hammer with microfilament test for diabetes, and a pocket Sanford Guide.
“I’d love to ditch the lab coat,” Dr. Ferrance says. “I often take it off when I sit down and sometimes end up leaving it behind, such as in the medical dictation area. I never want to wear one when I’m talking to a child. But for a lot of families of patients who are critically ill, it is a symbol, almost like the armor of the knighthood of medicine. You have to read each family, but for some, you lose credibility when you take it off. They’re looking for everything that medicine can offer, and the lab coat gives them more confidence in you.”
Dr. Ferrance appreciates the smaller size of his 47-bed hospital, where he is never a long walk from anyplace. He frequently returns during the day to his office, which he doesn’t have to share with other doctors. He uses it for family conferences and to store larger manuals, his laptop, and diagnostic kits.
He also values his Treo Smart phone, which incorporates a variety of programs, including a drug reference, billing program, lab reports on active patients, pediatric growth chart program, pneumonia severity index calculator, a medical calculator, Geriatrics At Your Fingertips, the Harriet Lane Handbook: A Manual for Pediatric House Officers, the American Association of Pediatrics’ Redbook comprehensive online infectious disease resource, hospice eligibility criteria, a camera—“to take pictures of odd lesions”—and access to e-mail and sports scores.
Although a briefcase is one more thing to lug around and risk losing, Julia Wright, MD, director of hospital medicine at the University of Wisconsin Hospital in Madison, says she carries a bag that is a woman’s version of a briefcase, with her laptop and active administrative files required for her growing administrative duties as director of an academic hospitalist group.
“There are advantages to being mobile, but disadvantages as well,” Dr. Wright says. “You just can’t get everything done. I get between 50 and 60 phone pages a day, and a lot of curbside consults, as well.” The medical center is restructuring teaching services so a hospitalist’s assigned patients would be more often concentrated in one area, with less running from floor to floor, as well as exploring new office facilities for the hospitalist group.
Currently, 11 University of Wisconsin hospitalists share a room with five cubicles. “I’ve put my pictures up on the wall anyway, and I keep my files, stapler, and office supplies there. A couple of my partners keep their reference books there. What I like about sharing space like this is it can help with communication and collegiality within the group. We do a lot of patient hand-offs there. But as we grow and it becomes more crowded, we’re going to need some more dedicated space.” TH
Larry Beresford is a medical writer based in California.