Image from Depositphotos.
“Just give them a hug. That shows you care.”
Maybe that works if you’re a cat. I don’t happen to be one.
Recently, I stumbled on a short Facebook video by a self-described cardiologist. He talked about how intimidating the medical system can be for older patients. He said he tries to reduce unnecessary medications, make time for urgent visits, and, as a personal touch, offer patients a handshake—or even a hug.
Not long after, I saw a post in a Facebook support group for people with a chronic condition. One member wrote, “I don’t want a hug. As long as they cure me, I’ll put up with the impersonal clinic.” That comment stuck with me.
Gratitude vs. Reality
Many patients are so grateful for treatment that they’ll forgive anything. Meanwhile, doctors and clinics are making fortunes from other people’s misery. It isn’t charity; it’s a business transaction. Where I come from, when someone takes your money, they owe you basic courtesy. Since these clinics have such vast resources, why not invest some of that wealth into making the patient experience less degrading?
The “Elderly” Stereotype
When doctors assume that older patients are automatically scared, confused, or meek, they’re buying into a stereotype. Many so-called “elderly” patients are highly educated and mentally sharp. They don’t necessarily want to be soothed; they want to be respected. Too often, though, those who question or push back are labeled “difficult” simply because they refuse to play the part of the sweet, humble senior.
Hugs vs. Respect
Some doctors truly believe they’re helping by offering hugs or handshakes. They want to be seen as caring advocates. But no amount of hugging compensates for an impersonal, chaotic clinic.
When you ask for a copy of a journal article or evidence to back up a recommendation, how does the doctor respond? Do they treat you as an equal partner in your own care—or do they dismiss your concerns with “You can trust me”? Caring means transparency, not paternalism.
The Gatekeepers
In reality, you spend most of your “doctor’s visit” with nursing assistants or techs who are often poorly trained and, sometimes, outright rude. Receptionists can be brusque and unhelpful. You’re asked repetitive, irrelevant questions. Once, I asked a receptionist why she needed to see certain documents. “To check the numbers,” she said vaguely. When I pressed for details, she gave me an icy stare and admitted she had no idea.
After an hour or more of this, I’m in no mood for the doctor’s brief ten-minute appearance. A handshake or hug at that point feels meaningless.
And let’s not ignore the environment itself. The waiting rooms are loud, with blaring televisions. Why not make them calm and pleasant—like an Amtrak quiet car? But no. The TVs stay, and you can’t help wondering whether hospital administrators or contractors are getting kickbacks for keeping them on.
What Patients Really Want
Who’s asking for a hug? What patients actually want is professionalism, respect, and a system that treats them like human beings rather than units of revenue.
The fixation on “elderly patients who are frightened” allows the medical establishment to stay paternalistic. In their narrative, older patients are children to be calmed, not adults to be respected. Educated seniors don’t fit their script.
The Hard Question
Many older people have confided to me: “I’d rather be dead than be treated like a piece of meat.” That’s why voluntary assisted dying (VAD) matters. If patients had a genuine option to opt out—rather than choosing between impersonal care or prolonged suffering—the medical system might finally be forced to change.
Recruiting volunteers sets one kind of expectation. Even the military changed when the draft ended and they had to find volunteers. Exploiting people’s misery sets a different set of expectations. If the medical establishment faced the real risk of losing patients altogether, maybe it would start listening.
