Try a Touch of Levity to Put Patients at Ease

I’ve been known to remark, “I’d do anything for a good laugh,” which is, of course, a broad generalization. While I do enjoy a good laugh and a lighthearted (not silly—well, okay, sometimes silly) approach to life, it goes without saying that I wouldn’t do just anything to bring about a chuckle or two.

The American Journal of Nursing arrived in my mailbox a couple days ago. Within the pages of the esteemed Journal is an article, authored by a student nurse, that advocates humor as a means of breaking the ice and helping the patient relax.

Her suggestions are simple and not remotely in the category of knee slappers, but they have worked for her. Often just a short, “How’s it going?” or, “How about those Mets,” spoken directly to the patient who is about to have a bedside procedure, can produce a little smile and maybe some conversation.

I don’t remember, in my student days, being specifically instructed to avoid humor. I do, however, recall quite clearly that we were to present ourselves in a strictly professional manner, so it seems that even a hint of funny business would’ve been frowned upon.

Humor definitely has its place in medical circumstances and can effectively defuse tense situations. I recall a doctor’s use of humor that nearly 25 years later still makes me smile. My mother was suddenly struck by what was later diagnosed as rheumatoid arthritis. Almost overnight she went from being asymptomatic to having total large joint involvement. Both knees were swollen to the size of softballs. Her hip and shoulder joints were so painful that she couldn’t bend into a sitting position or raise her arms to brush her hair. In a word, she was miserable.

The scheduler for a rhuematologist in a large multi-specialty clinic took pity on us and squeezed Mother into his jam-packed schedule. After checking in, we were soon taken into an exam room where we waited and waited and waited for more than 45 minutes, with Mother unable to sit because it was too painful for her.

We didn’t fault the physician. We knew the office was doing us a favor and we were grateful to be there but that did nothing to relieve the discomfort Mother was enduring. Suddenly the door swung open, the doctor stepped in, put a hand on his hip and said in an incredulous tone, “Erma! Where have you been? I’ve been waiting on you for hours.”

All three of us laughed. The doctor knew how patients often become testy when they have to wait and he wisely used humor to soften any irritation he might encounter when he entered that exam room. It worked. Our wait instantly became a non-issue and we got on with the task at hand.

Medicine is serious business, no question about it, but a small infusion of real-people speak can go a long way toward lightening the mood and easing anxiety. Give it a try and tell me the story about how it worked.