by Dr. Joven Tristeza, PGY-2

I remember you. You were my first patient. On my first day, I showed up to the workroom at 4:00 a.m. I had read your chart the night before. I was nervous about meeting you. Would you know this was my first day? I knew you were going to be the first patient I would meet since your door was right next to the workroom. The first patient in my career as Dr. Tristeza. I looked over your labs for the morning and re-reviewed the email I got about you. And re-re-reviewed. I really wanted to make sure I got things right since you were scheduled to discharge today.

I remember you. You were the first person I introduced myself to as a physician. “Good morning! I’m Dr. Tristeza! How are you doing today?” I had said. You were already awake in bed with your blue jeans, T-shirt, and Las Vegas Raiders hat on. Clearly, you were ready to go. I talked about the plan for your blood pressure and pain medications. We talked about the Raiders, your brother, and how ready you were to go home. You had asked me if I was going to be your doctor now, and I joked back that yes I was but not for long. I ended up spending close to an hour with you that morning.

I remember you. You were my first discharge. I had gone over your medication changes and how to get them with you. I made sure your brother was coming to get you. I even gave you a phone number to call back in case things did not go well. I placed your discharge order and waited until you came off the patient list. I was so excited when I erased your name from the board signifying that you had indeed left the hospital. You called back three days later after you left. “Doc, I’m not doing too well. The pharmacy didn’t have my pain medication, but I’m doing my best to hold on,” you had said. You were clearly in a great deal of pain. I tried to give you hope that things would work out. I still cannot imagine the kind of pain you were going through and the amount of trust you put in me that day.

I remember you. You were my first readmission. You came back to the emergency room two days later nauseated and vomiting. You still had that Raiders hat on. Upon seeing me, you breathed a sigh of relief and said, “I am so glad you’re my doctor again. I trust you.” How could someone in so much pain say that to the person who had failed him? I do not know if you could tell, but I felt regretful at that moment.

“Don’t worry sir, I’ll take good care of you,” I said back.

“Oh, I know,” you said in reply.

I remember you. You were the first patient I took care of from admission to discharge. I was able to manage your pain. I saw you improve from the distressed man in the emergency room to the man I knew from a few days ago. You were once again someone with a giant smile and cheerful personality. And of course, you had on that ever present Raiders hat. Every morning I came in to see you, I would find myself spending more time than was needed with you. I got your medication issues sorted out this time. It was not long until it was time for your brother to pick you up again. This time I was sure that you would not need to come back.

It has now been one year since I have been working as a doctor. In that time, I have changed a lot. I have seen so many patients now that I have lost count. I have placed catheters in people's necks to deliver life-saving medications. I have even started feeling more confident in my decision making. However, in a lot of ways I am still the same person who first greeted you that early morning. I still show up to work earlier than needed. I still get nervous seeing new patients. I still feel regretful about every readmission.

I remember you. Despite all of my new experiences over the past year, I remember you for putting your trust in me, telling me about your life, and sharing jokes with me. I have grown so much since we last met, and yet every time I see the Las Vegas Raiders, I cannot help but smile to myself. I remember you, and I hope you remember me.