Being nice gets you nowhere.
A couple of days ago, I was fifteen minutes late to a morning conference, because I helped an old lady get to the Emergency Department after I saw her slip on a patch of black ice and fall in the middle of an intersection. So after I helped her limp to the ED, I rushed over to my conference. I sneaked into the back of a very dark room, closing the door behind me so quietly, that I highly doubt anyone even realized I had joined the group. Anyone minus the speaker, whose impeccable night vision immediately saw me and directed everyone's attention to me as I was berated for being late, lecturing me on what the definition of being professional is. (Answer: not being tardy for very important case conferences. His very important case conferences.)
I wanted to talk back and ask if he understood the definition of empathy. Or compassion. And I really wanted to know what exactly was pumping his blood around his body since he so clearly lacked a heart.
Instead, my Amy Chua Tiger Mother upbringing made me bite my tongue, as I stood there and just took it. Yes sir. No sir. Never again, sir. I'm sorry sir. No sir. Yes, I am a piece of scum, sir.
Today I was on breast imaging. And a strange pattern seemed to emerge within a few hours of reading ultrasounds and mammograms. The patients who were mean and nasty to the support staff and techs were the ones who ended up having benign masses. On the other hand, the patients who couldn't have been nicer or more understanding of why we were behind schedule, were always the ones who ended up with the BIRADS score of 5 or 6 - highly suspicious for cancer.
Here's one for the books. Forget smoking. Forget alcohol. Being nice is the worst risk factor for all disease states.
3 years ago
