The power of communication in patient care | Barbora Mechúrová | TEDxUNYP

I remember the day like it was yesterday. I stood by the door to her room, gripping the handle with my sweaty hands and trying to gather the courage to enter. My stomach twisted with a fear that I wouldn't know what to say. During my six years of medical school, I spent thousands of hours learning the right answers. And yet, in that moment, as I stepped into her hospital room, not a single answer came to my mind. And how could it? Is there really a right answer to human pain, helplessness and suffering? Although years have passed since I met that unfortunate woman, I remember that gloomy autumn day as if it were yesterday. She was admitted to the hospital because of suicidal thoughts. At least that's what the paramedics said when they explained the circumstances of this elderly lady's transport to the emergency department. My task as a young psychiatrist was to assess the risk of her actions and determine whether they were symptoms of ongoing depression. Despite my lack of experience, I quickly realized that this woman wasn't suffering from any disease. She was simply and profoundly suffering. They had been married for 30 years. Can you imagine? When her husband died the day before, she declared that she would rather end her life than live the rest of it without him. And so we sat there together. I held her hand. We looked at each other in silence and cried. Both of us. An older woman with a sad, dim look in her eyes and a young doctor who realized that sometimes words aren't necessary at all. It was then, for the first time, that I felt in my bones that healthcare is about far more than treating patients and that communication isn't just about information exchange. True power of communication lies in the willingness to listen and simply being there. How long do you think you can keep that up? One of my colleagues remarked ironically a few months later. Based on her own experience, you probably guessed that staying empathetic, compassionate, and loving towards people isn't easy in today's healthcare system. Thinking you can stay empathetic is really naive, she told me. Sorry. I just wonder what she would think if she could hear me giving this talk today. Anyway, perhaps out of fear that her prophecy might come true or maybe because I realized that the healthcare system itself was in many ways unhealthy, I decided not to attempt fate and left clinical practice after three years. My vision then, as it is now, was to work in a healthy healthcare system. A system where people treat each other with respect and dignity. Where healthcare professionals give their full attention to patients, listen to their concerns with interest, and communicate clearly and with empathy. A system where patients take responsibility for their actions, ask questions, and participate in decisions about their treatment. A system where healthcare providers and patients engage in open dialogue and act as equal partners on the path to healing. Some of you might call such a system an absolute utopia. But for me, this vision is what drives me forward. It's the motivation behind my work to support healthcare professionals in developing a partnership-based approach and their communication skills. The thing is that communication in today's healthcare system often falls short. Patients frequently feel misunderstood, unheard, and information is shared quickly with little time for proper explanation. Healthcare professionals are under constant pressure for time and efficiency which reduces communication to a mere exchange of facts rather than a genuine dialogue. The result is distrust, frustration, and the sense that the real connection between healthcare provider and a patient is missing. Whenever I talk to people about what I do, the most common reaction I get is, that's so needed. And in the next breath, they share stories about encountering indifference, arrogance, or rudeness from physicians and nurses. And who knows, perhaps some of you have faced similar situations yourself. This satisfaction and frustration could easily be found on the other side as well. A few weeks ago, I ran into a former colleague from medical school on the tram, someone I hadn't seen since graduation. After the initial surprise of recognizing each other, she asked me, so what are you doing now? I heard you left psychiatry behind. Oh yeah, that's right, I said. I'm now teaching healthcare professionals how to communicate effectively and in partnership with patients. Okay, sounds good, she replied. It's just a shame no one's teaching patients how to communicate, right? I think it's pretty clear that many of us feel disappointed with the state of communication in today's healthcare system. And yet, despite that, there's something that unites us all. What we share is a longing for basic human values. Values that, although simple, hold the power to create profound and extraordinary change. The desire to be heard, a willingness to collaborate, mutual respect and dignity, a readiness to take responsibility for our actions, openness and trust. You might be thinking that all sounds great, but achieving such a vision for healthcare will take a long time. But here's the thing, I disagree. I truly believe that the kind of healthcare I'm describing is within reach for all of us. You yourself have the ability to shape the quality of care you receive. Okay, let me tell you one more story. My friend has a grandmother. Picture an older lady, about eight years old, who has trouble walking, suffers from knee pain and is bothered by varicose veins. Up until a few months ago, her visits to the doctor always followed a predictable routine. The doctor would ask her a few questions, examine her, give her information about her diagnosis and treatment, and finally hand her a prescription and a medical report full of technical terms. She would not throw out a consultation, ask no questions, and then leave the office with no real understanding of what the doctor had told her. You've been there, right? Most of the time she would ask her granddaughter, my friend who happens to be a neuroscientist, to translate a medical report for her. Some of my colleagues might say that her grandmother was a modal patient. She didn't talk much. She didn't ask any questions. At the moment she got home, she would always complain that the doctor never really spoke to her. And then, a few months ago, this 80-year-old woman read an article in a magazine about the importance of partnership-based communication between healthcare providers and the patients. The message resonated with her so much that, at her next doctor's visit, she interrupted him in that sentence and said, Doctor, I'm sorry, but I have no idea what you are saying. The doctor was taken aback and, unsure how to respond, he simply asked, Sorry, what do you mean? And so she began explaining that she had read an interview in a magazine with a young, red-headed doctor who discussed how communication between healthcare providers and patients could be different, that it could be clear and partnership-based and focused on dialogue. And she explained that she didn't understand what he was saying and asked him to speak in a way she could comprehend. I'm pretty sure you can imagine how surprised the doctor must have been. Despite his surprise, though, he did exactly what she asked. He lifted his head from the computer and gave her his full attention. He started asking about her needs, posing questions, finding out what she didn't understand and explaining everything to her again. This time, though, he used simple and accessible language. It was the first time she had ever left the doctor's office with a smile. The first time she didn't need her granddaughter to translate a medical report. The power of communication lies in creating a space where the voices of both, the healthcare provider and the patient, are equally valued. It's a space where patients feel safe to say, I need something different and where doctors can respond with, tell me, I'm listening. Healthy healthcare isn't some unattainable vision of a distant future. In fact, it's something we can start building today, right here and right now. It doesn't require monumental changes or a complete overhaul of the system. Our path to healthier healthcare doesn't have to be complicated. In truth, we may be just one step away. One small action, one simple adjustment that each of us can make. That change could be as simple as shaking someone's hand. An ordinary gesture of human connection that brings reassurance and calm. Or it could be a smile that, for a moment, breaks down barriers and brings peace and encouragement to the room. Sometimes, all it takes is your courage to ask a question. Other times, it's the willingness to listen, even when time is short and the day feels endless. It could be the patience we all need while seeking mutual understanding. But above all, it's about being truly present with one another. If the past few years have taught me anything, it's that the real medicine begins where the diagnosis ends. True healing happens when two ordinary people meet. One seeking help and the ability and willingness to offer it. And healthiest healthcare is not something that's handed to us as a finished product. It's something we create together with every single word and every look. So if an 80-year-old grandmother could do it, then why can't each of us? A year ago, I left healthcare because I didn't want to be part of a system that felt broken. But this month, I'm coming back. I'm returning with renewed faith and determination. Because I've realized that to feel good in healthcare, we don't need to wait for change to come from above. We don't need to change the whole system. Healthy healthcare begins in every clinic, at every bedside, in every interaction. It's about how we treat each other, how we support one another, and how we communicate. So let us be the medicine our healthcare system needs. Let us be the cure that, through communication, closeness, and care, supports the healing of us all. Thank you.