Takeaway
Sometimes the most profound acts of care aren't medical interventions, but recognizing the simple comforts that anchor patients, like a cherished stuffed animal.
Passion in the Medical Profession | April 9, 2025 | 2 min read
By Tehsim Aziz Memon, MBBS, MD, Smt NHL Municipal Medical College, India, with Amy Yu, MD, Johns Hopkins Medicine
During a recent inpatient rotation as an observer with the Hospital Observership Program at Johns Hopkins, our medical team discussed goals of care for an 80-year-old woman with advanced dementia who’d been admitted after a fall. Near the end of the conversation one of the doctors, Dr. P, noted, “She has a stuffed animal named Precious Lamb. She’s very attached to it.” At the time, it felt like a minor detail; I didn’t yet understand how much the toy meant to the patient.
Later that morning, we visited her during bedside rounds. Dr. P asked how she was, and the patient replied, “I’m fine.” But her responses to clinical questions were confused and disjointed—a reflection of her cognitive decline. Then the doctor asked about her lamb. It wasn’t in the room.
Her eyes welled with tears. “I lost it,” she said. “I can’t find it.” She began to sob.
In that moment, I understood: Precious Lamb wasn’t just a toy—it was a lifeline to familiarity and comfort in a world that had become unrecognizable.
Dr. P asked if she’d like a new one. It took a few repetitions before she processed the question, but eventually she nodded. “Yes, ok. I can try that.”
After rounds, the doctor went to the gift shop, found a stuffed animal, and labeled it “Precious Lamb.” When she returned and offered it, the patient’s face lit up, cradling it like a mother would a child.
The next morning, we found her holding the lamb. She was calmer and more responsive, her clinical state improved.
This encounter reminded me that care isn’t always about the prescriptions or care plans we write. Sometimes, it’s just bringing a patient comfort and joy—even through something as small as a stuffed animal named Precious Lamb.
A few things I learned:
1. Non-medical interventions matter.
Familiar objects in unfamiliar settings can ease patient anxiety and enhance well-being. These small comforts can sometimes bring as much healing as medication.
2. Patient-centered care goes beyond the chart.
Understanding what truly matters to the patient helps to reduce their fears.
3. Small acts of kindness can be therapeutic.
Replacing a lost stuffed animal may seem simple, but such gestures can enhance trust, improve emotional state, and even influence clinical outcomes. Human connection remains one of medicine’s most powerful tools.
Learn more about author Amy Yu here.
This piece expresses the views solely of the author. It does not necessarily represent the views of any organization, including Johns Hopkins Medicine.