Relationship Intelligence

The contrast of two doctors showed me how I want to be.

I saw a doctor this week. Now, for some of you, seeing a doctor might be routine. But for me, it was a big deal. I don't go unless I absolutely have to. The last one was over a year ago and he was so pompous that I left his office vowing to stay away.

"You're post-heart attack?" he asked. He was a cardiologist.

"Yes. Over fifteen years ago."

"Why not on statins?" he asked without looking up.

"I got side effects and quit them."

"Well, you should be on them. Try a different kind." He stared at his iPad.

"I'm not sure I want to go that route. I'd like to do it more naturally—with diet and exercise."

"Well, the literature and studies indicate that you should…."

He wasn't interested in me. He didn't care about my reasons. He made no effort to hear my tone or read the language my body was giving off. He treated me like I was data to be processed and not a person seeking care. His goal was to regurgitate the standard of care. And as he went on, I could feel my temperature rising, I could hear words forming in my mind … you arrogant … you're not even listening … how dare you … could you be any more pompous…. I flirted with speaking my mind. I toyed with stopping him mid-sentence. I came so close….

But this week was different. I met a different kind of doctor. One who listened. One who watched. He treated me like a person.

As many of you know, my right knee has been a chirpin'. And it's been chirpin' for a while. So I thought it was time to darken the MD door.

My new physician walked in and I was struck by his age. He looked older than me. And he was—he was 73. I liked that. For two reason: a) I liked that he was still plugging away at his age. And b) I liked that he had many years of practice under his belt, much experience. Then he gave me a third reason to like him: He said he'd practice until he fell over. Ah, yes!

But what I liked most was his manner with me. He treated me like a person. He respected me as my own health advocate. He gave me options. He noted my responses. He heard my tone. He keyed off my reactions. He asked great questions. And before jumping to a treatment plan, he made sure he had plenty of history.

Once he had the background, he said, "There are two routes we can go…" Ahhh, yes, now I really like this guy. I love options … give me options, baby. He said, "We can go with a) an MRI, which will then likely lead to Physical Therapy, which then might lead to arthroscopic intervention. Or b) skip the imaging and go straight to where you're going to end up anyway … PT. Which do you prefer?"

Oh, I felt so good. I had two options, clearly laid out, map and all. Now I'm loving this guy.

I said, without hesitation, "I choose 'a.' I want an MRI." He read my certainty and pivoted perfectly, explaining that route. I was happy. He was happy. Amen to a good consult! Amen!

As I drove home, I asked myself, 'Why did I like him so much?' When I got home, I told Joyce about him and his approach. Our interaction helped me formulate my thoughts and here's what I realized: I liked him because he treated me like a person. He read me. He noticed my physical reaction. He picked up on my quick choice of 'a.' He listened to my tone. He heard the message behind my words. He keyed off my knowledge level. His eyes were open. His ears were tuned.

That's great to see in medicine.

But it applies to life as well. All of life. All relationships. How we treat our spouses, our kids, our friends, our clients. Every relationship. Every interaction. Every time.

Some have called it emotional intelligence. I like that. But I might call it relationship intelligence. It's the ability to connect. The ability to lower barriers. The ability to notice the subtle, to catch the discreet. The ability to draw out the best. The ability to know when to shut your big yapper. The ability to sense the right timing for a thing—and the self-control to wait for a better moment. And the ability to swallow something that should never see the light of day. Something that only you need to get off your chest. Something that won't help the other person—only hurt them.

In an age of artificial intelligence, let's double down on relationship intelligence. RI over AI. Offer your eyes. Give your ears. Tilt your head to show interest. Lean forward to demonstrate concern. Relax your face to show you're not judging. (Even if you are judging, but trying not to, and yelling at yourself for being so judgy. Arghhh! Sorry … just kinda lost it there … giving you a peak into the mind of Ken Guidroz.)

AI will never trump RI. Let's learn from my new doctor and grow in our relationship intelligence.