Kailey Newel, a second-year student at the Cumming School of Medicine, wants to challenge the idea that physicians and medical students are never patients themselves.
“We assume that physicians can’t be patients and that people who are patients can’t be physicians.”
She believes this is to the detriment of both medical education and the quality of care patients receive. Newel says that her experiences as a patient for chronic health issues and a neurodivergent student only enhance her medical practice.
Learning from personal experience
Due to an earlier misdiagnosis of her neurodivergence as Generalized Anxiety Disorder, Newel experienced barriers to finding a diagnosis for her chronic health issues. Both her experience of sensory overwhelm due to her neurodivergence and her gastrointestinal pain, an early symptom of her chronic health condition, were dismissed by physicians as anxiety.
“Doctors weren’t listening even though I knew there was something else going on. He called my psychologist to ask if it was anxiety and she said no. I was lucky. I had a care provider [her psychologist] that could help me advocate for myself.”
But Newel knows that everyone isn’t as lucky. She knows that her privilege with being cisgendered and white helped her receive her diagnosis. As a future physician who has experienced the vulnerability and frustration of being a patient, she hopes to address these health inequities head on.
The importance of asking for help
Newel plans to use her personal experiences to address inequities that exist in medical education. After her diagnosis of autism spectrum disorder at 18, Newel was legally qualified to access accommodations as part of her education. However, accessing accommodations can still be an uphill battle. Many assume that Newel’s use of academic accommodations indicates an inability to meet the demands of clinical practice, but this isn’t the case.
“It’s about patient safety. If it doesn’t impact patient safety, then needing accommodations doesn’t impact your ability to be a physician.”
Cadaver labs were a particular challenge for Newel. The sensory and emotional impact of working with cadavers had a compounding effect for Newel that made these labs inaccessible to her. Her lab co-ordinator made all the difference, says Newel.
“She asked me how can I make this a positive experience for you? ... If she didn’t, I wouldn’t have gone to class. I wouldn’t have been able to go.”
Together, Newel and her lab co-ordinator developed accommodations like having a quiet room for sensory breaks, being able to sit during labs, and the flexibility to have “off days.” But it was the acknowledgement and open discussion of the emotional toll of their work that had the most impact.
Newel explains that talking about challenges and seeking help is not encouraged in medical school.
“We’re set up to share our successes. We’re not set up to ask for help or talk about the times we make mistakes.”
She believes that not making room for medical students who need support leads to physicians who rarely ask for it. As a result, physicians become too burnt out to provide empathetic support to patients or each other. She suggests that opportunities to check in and share with peers would not only help students learn from each other’s experiences but also destigmatize needing support through means like academic accommodations.
As a direct outcome of her experiences as a neurodivergent student and patient for chronic illness, Newel now leads a project aiming to make cadaver labs a more accessible part of medical education.
While Newel feels fortunate to have met dedicated and supportive educators throughout her education, she continues to advocate for change in how physicians are trained. She says that the future of medicine acknowledges the humanity of patients, physicians, and the students that are trained to be them.
“We all suffer, we all need support,” Newel reminds us.
We invite the UCalgary community to share their experiences and work towards neuro-inclusion together.
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