It was early during residency. I was still adjusting to primary care clinic which included learning how the computer system worked. I still didn’t have home access to the electronic medical records so I couldn’t review my patients ahead of their appointments. I also couldn’t write my patient notes at home. All my patients were new to me. Between the challenge of learning new patients and the computer system, I fell behind in clinic one day.
My patient appointments stacked up like logs against a dam before it bursts. And, with my appointments running behind and my slowness with the computer system, the notes I had to write for each patient appointment were pushed to the end of the day. My last appointment ended an hour late because it started an hour late.
There I was, already after closing time and just starting to fight the computer system to write my notes as fast as I could. Everyone else in the clinic had left an hour or so earlier. I was hungry because I hadn’t thought I’d need to bring dinner. I’d already eaten breakfast and lunch at the clinic. I was startled when I heard someone in the hall. The janitor walked by my office, “Late night?” he asked pausing outside my open office door.
“Yeah. I’m new here and I’m still slow with the computer,” I said.
“And they just left you?” he asked.
“It’s okay. Hopefully my notes will be done soon,” I said.
“Well, thanks for your work,” he said.
Hours passed. One note at a time, like small footsteps, my pile of remaining work dwindled. The janitor stopped by my door again. “I got you these. It’s not much but it’s all I could find,” he said. He handed me a bag of BBQ potato chips and a mini-Fanta orange soda.
“Thank you so much! You’re so kind,” I said. I was too tired to be giddy but in better circumstances I would have been gleeful for the snacks.
“Have a good night. Hope you can leave soon,” he said and walked away, back to his own work.
I don’t think he’ll ever know how much he saved me that night. When I was finally done with my work and as I walked through the empty clinic and then the empty parking lot to my car, I thought about how much I appreciated the janitor. I’ve often thought it odd that society focuses so much on big names and money. In my experience, heroes are always humble strangers acting out of kindness and with no motive or expectation of recognition.
That night I was reminded that all it takes is pausing to offer a little help to transform a person’s night. The janitor clearly had already ingrained that knowledge into his existence. And like the heroes who came before him, I added the janitor to my life’s hall of fame as I walked to my car to drive home. My hall of fame isn’t a hall of fame like those for baseball players but, to me, it’s a lot more important. And, in case you’re wondering, I’ve never had a more delicious bag of chips and can of soda.