Takeaway
To connect with patients, sit at eye level, offer calm reassurance, and listen. Patients feel your steadiness before any test—presence is often the strongest initial intervention.
Connecting with Patients | September 29, 2025 | 1 min read
By Abdullah Al Owesie, MD, Johns Hopkins Observership Program, with Carolina Musri, MD, Johns Hopkins Medicine
The ICU buzzed with alarms. A patient gasped for breath. I stood just behind my attending, attentive to every detail. What struck me most was not the rush of orders. It was the pause. My attending leaned toward the patient and whispered, “You’re safe here. We’ll take this step by step.” Before oxygen was delivered or labs were drawn, the patient’s respiratory rate had already started to decrease.
That moment reminded me of a truth I’ve learned over the years while observing healthcare teams in different countries—healing often begins with presence. In Africa, while volunteering in a small clinic, I watched a physician kneel beside a mother before treating her sick child. He asked her to describe the child’s symptoms, listening fully before reaching for a stethoscope. In Slovakia, I saw doctors walk the wards quietly before morning rounds, stopping to ask patients simple questions about how they had slept, grounding their care in human connection before discussing lab results. And in my home country, Saudi Arabia, one of my mentors emphasized beginning each encounter by sitting at eye level with the patient and creating a calm atmosphere before offering medical solutions. What these experiences had in common was the “pause.”
Outside the hospital, I’ve carried this rhythm into the mountains where I love to run and ski. Early in my training, my instinct was to sprint up hills or attack the slope with speed, only to end up exhausted or off balance. Over time, I learned that endurance on the trail and control on the snow come from restraint, slowing my stride, steadying my breath, and focusing only on the next turn. In both medicine and the mountains, calm creates progress.
I recognized the same discipline that night in the ICU. I left with a lasting truth: patients feel our steadiness long before they see the results of our tests. Sometimes the strongest initial intervention is not a drug or a device, but a human voice that says, “You are not alone.”
This piece expresses the views solely of the author. It does not necessarily represent the views of any organization, including Johns Hopkins Medicine.