A ‘VIP’ view
Ellie Harrison
Drawing
The inspiration for my creative piece was a discussion that took place during one of our GP placements. A ‘VIP view’ – these were the words used by the GP leading this particular session, and the words that really stuck with me throughout the consultations that followed. The privileged insight doctors get into peoples’ lives was something that didn’t fully settle in until we were in Bristol, listening to patients’ vulnerable stories/personal tales over Zoom. In fact, the online format of the year has seemed to highlight the uniqueness of this view – from the minute we introduce ourselves online as medical students – attempting to create a safe enough space for people to be completely honest and open about what’s been going on.
This image shows the doctor using a surgical knife to reveal the patient’s hidden interior, which is much more elaborate and unique than solely their anatomical body.
Another aspect I tried to incorporate into this piece was the fact that the doctors are themselves human too (shown by flowers appearing from underneath their white coat). During the pandemic we have not only heard the stories of heroic medical professionals but the calls for better support for their physical and mental wellbeing. Although the words ‘VIP view’ made me feel even more inspired to give this vocation my all – it can also be dangerous to view doctors as some sort of ‘superhumans’.
Effective Consulting, Year One, 2021
This drawing is a wonderful reminder of the importance of maintaining human dignity in modern medical practice. Unfortunately, this aspect of care can easily be overlooked in today’s increasingly strained universal healthcare systems, where trying to help the most number of people often mean shorter consultations, longer waiting times and more depersonalised care overall. However, can you truly cure a patient or do no harm without preserving the ‘flowers’ of their humanity in diagnosis, treatment and recovery? This piece does an incredible job of showing just how beautiful, vibrant and multifaceted the lives of people can be; they are not mere statistics and their individuality need to be preserved.
The opportunity a doctor has to build trust and have patients open up to them is a privilege and a great responsibility. The flowers appearing from underneath the doctor’s white coat represent the vulnerability and humanity of medical professionals, often hidden by the uniforms they wear, the titles they bear and the expectations put upon them. It is imperative that the ‘flowers’ of their humanity are kept intact and healthy as well.
This is a beautiful piece, the title especially stuck with me. During placement it is constantly stressed to us that as soon as you gain the title of ‘medical student’ you are privileged, we receive a level of trust that would never be normally bestowed on a random stranger. A patient may tell you their deepest darkest secret, something they haven’t even told the most important person to them and that is our privilege.
It’s also important to note the ‘VIP’ as doctors are very often held up on a pedestal as ‘very important people’ yet the artist has quite rightly represented the doctor as also human. This juxtaposition illustrates how doctors are frequently seen as one or the other rather than both.
I find the contrast of an aggressive surgical knife with delicate flowers an interesting take on the role of the doctor- a doctor may sometimes need to cut away at a patient to get to the fragile part of interest (both literally and figuratively). A patient being ‘stripped back’ to the anatomy, zooming in on the presenting complaint, is something many doctors are guilty of. The anatomical illustrations are nicely paired with the reminder of the humanity of both doctor and patient.
Ultimately, I think this a beautiful take on the vulnerability of a patient and the challenges doctors face as a result of assumptions and stereotypes against them.
This piece of art work is an amazing insight into the layers of a person and clinical care. The revealing of the flowers inside the body is a symbol of the delicacy of the human and a powerful reminder of the responsibility you have as a clinician and medical student to deal with patients in their most vulnerable times, and to value the trust that they put into you. The flowers under the lab coat remind me of the privilege of being able to offer a patient healthcare and are a reminder of the holistic approach you must take for patient-centred care where you treat the patient as an equal human, despite the challenges you face yourself as a doctor.
The skeletal view of the human is moving and creates sharp contrast to the beautiful flowers emerging, showing you the layers of a human and the depth and delicacy that can’t always be seen on the surface, thereby reinforcing the privilege that comes with being a doctor and being able to remove the outer layer and listen and respond to the patients concerns and vulnerabilities.
The flowers in this seem to show not only the beauty but also the vulnerability of what we all hold within ourselves and only reveal to a select few, in this case the doctor responsible for their care. The flowers under the doctors sleeve could be seen to show not only that a doctor is human the same as their patient, but also that they are expected to be strong for the patient and how a doctor must manage the reality of their humanity and the expectations placed upon them.
The juxtaposition of the anatomical drawing and the flowers seems to show that beauty is present in people, not just emotionless biology, but also that medicine is both an art and science as doctors do not merely treat bodies, they treat people.
The drawing of the knife reminds me that empathy and open communication are tools just as important as any implement if you are to truly help someone to heal. The willingness of the patient to allow the knife so close to their most delicate depths could also symbolise the depth of trust many people have in doctors, to allow them to discuss their most sensitive secrets and fears, which another soul might never know.
Ellie, in haste, but very much appreciated your writing and your beautiful drawing, including flowers up the slieve – yes indeed! Good luck with your journey!