Excerpts from The Choreography of Care

He Always Wanted to Be a Doctor (A Small Detour)

“A Jewish man with parents alive is a 15-year-old boy and will remain a 15-year-old boy until they die.” — Philip Roth, Portnoy’s Complaint

Not that I was starved for attention—my mother, Cecile, celebrated me daily as her superstar. She lovingly reminisced about my first wellness visits as an infant, recalling my determination to grab hold of the pediatrician’s stethoscope as an early sign: “He always wanted to be a doctor.” My memory is that Cecile always wanted me to be a doctor. From the moment that I spat out my first sound my mother told me I was brilliant. “Oy, look at him, you are one of a kind.” She also assured me I had a face that could stop strangers. She was right about my appearance—it would take years before my considerable Ashkenazic nose morphed from a tragic early childhood deformity to a distinctive character trait.

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As an artist, I have been afforded opportunities to better understand how our emotional life is embodied, residing in an intuitive physicality that informs creative expression. In pursuit of my own healing, I have discovered how art can transform loss and sorrow into a courageous beauty. This creative practice, in search of ever-changing perspectives about self, has been my privilege to share with caregivers around the world.

Opening the Doctor’s Heart

He has little to lose and everything to gain by letting the sick man into his heart. — Anatole Broyard, “The Patient Examines the Doctor”

Caregivers enter their professions with a heightened empathic capacity, inclined toward helping others. But often when these individuals come to our workshops, they arrive stressed, exhausted, and with a feeling that despite their intentions, they’re not able to provide the care they had imagined when they began their careers.

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During a break at a 2013 symposium/workshop, Transforming the Doctor-Patient Relationship, for first and second year students and faculty at Michigan State University’s College of Osteopathic Medicine, a participating student eagerly approached me. He was exuberant in expressing his appreciation for the work we had covered in the first day. Like many of his colleagues he spoke of the extreme rigor of his studies, primarily focused on memorization and “hard science.” He felt renewed and enriched to have focused inwards and remembered why he had become a doctor. And with the utmost earnestness of self-discovery, he continued, “these exercises you have engaged us in have made me realize how relational the practice of medicine is. I never really knew that before today.”

Why Move?

A doctor who greets a patient with arms across her chest, downward focus, and disinterested vocal expression might serve up a certain patient experience different from that of another doctor offering a simple handshake, imbued with strength and comfort, accompanied by a warm, open gaze. Often, the very first read of anyone, including caregivers, can set the tone and direction of any potential relationship.

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Brain research is proving that movement—the muscular response to an action—is not merely a physical and emotional response. As a form of embodied cognition, movement is one of many senses sent to the brain as a first form of information. At a sensory level, the specificity of our movements provides clues to who we are.

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Do caregivers need to enroll in the next series of classes offered by the nearest ballet, modern dance, hip-hop, or ballroom instructor? Maybe not. But there is much for caregivers to learn about themselves as they discover their predilections for nonverbal behavior.

Transforming the Doctor-Patient Relationship

“For many patients, the art of medicine is bedside manner, the way the doctor delivers the news rather than the news itself.” – Dr. Alice W. Flaherty, Performing the Art of Medicine

Our movement exercises and the literary, visual, vocal, and theatrical techniques that we use invite caregivers to consider and remember their original impulses for becoming healers, their everyday demeanors and emotional life in relating to their patients, and the importance of caring for themselves throughout their careers.