On a plane returning to Los Angeles, a flight attendant asked if a
doctor were on board. Reluctantly, I raised my hand.
Walking up the aisle, I relieved my fears by
recalling that hotel employees who tell me a guest is seriously ill are usually
wrong.
The passenger complained of a tight chest and
difficulty breathing. He was forty with no medical problems, and his only
medication was a tranquilizer which he didn’t have. He had no objection to my
diagnosis of anxiety attack; he’d had them before. I reassured him and
reassured the flight attendant that he’d be OK until the plane arrived. This
turned out to be true.
Hearing the story, my wife said that she expected
no less of me because I’m a caring, compassionate doctor. She often says things
like that.
In fact, I raised my hand because I believe that
a physician asked for help has a moral obligation to respond. If he doesn’t,
he’s a bad person. Responding did not make me feel good, but not responding
would feel worse.
Plenty of doctors keep quiet under those
circumstances and comfort themselves with excellent reasons. It was unlikely
that I could handle a genuine emergency. I haven’t performed CPR in decades; in
any case doing so in that packed cabin was impossible. Standing by helplessly
would make me look foolish. Doctors hate that. The passenger might sue. This
has happened. You’ve probably heard of the “good Samaritan” law, but any competent
lawyer can find a reason it doesn’t apply.