‘Sorry’ seems to be the hardest word

We doctors will always run late. But we rarely apologize. Why is that? Why is it so hard for doctors, nurses and other office staff to say a simple “Sorry I’m late”?

The medical literature is chock-full of studies showing that apologies matter. When a doctor misses an important test result or operates on the wrong side of the body, an apology can heal bad feelings and decrease the chance of a lawsuit. Not apologizing, on the other hand, can make things worse. I’ve met a number of patients who are still fuming years after a mistake — big in some cases, small in others — because the doctor never said she or he was sorry.

I’ll admit that waiting for a late doctor is small change compared with waking from an operation with your right knee replaced instead of your left. But does that matter? Shouldn’t doctors err on the side of more apologies, not fewer?

Everybody knows that doctors, maybe with the exception of psychiatrists, are notoriously tardy. We have plenty of good reasons: We’re overbooked, emergencies pop up, and anything — a late patient, an unexpected phone call, a meeting that runs over, or a longer-than-expected bathroom break — can start a chain reaction that throws off our schedules completely. (Plus, I know of one doctor who believes that running at least one hour late impresses his patients. Sure, it’s a power trip for him, but I doubt they appreciate being taken along for the ride.)

So what makes saying sorry in these instances so hard? Some doctors may be so rushed that they don’t even think about it. Some may think that their patients expect them to be 20 or 30 minutes late, so an apology isn’t that important. If a patient first meets with a nurse or other office staff, it can be hard for a doctor to keep track of whether he’s really late or not. Other doctors may not be comfortable apologizing in general, especially for such a seemingly minor thing. And, yes, there are those who simply don’t care.

But because every doctor has also been a patient, we all should know that it’s frustrating to sit and wait and receive no acknowledgment that your time is valuable too. An apology shows that the doctor, nurse or office staff cares that you have a life. That maybe you’re using up valuable sick time, or paying someone to watch your kids, or you have errands you need to get done. One elderly man chortled when I apologized for running late and said he had nothing better to do. But it’s one thing for him to volunteer that — quite another for me to assume it.

I went to see a new doctor a couple of weeks ago. I was alarmed to see that every seat in the waiting room was taken and people also were sitting in the hallway outside of the office. I found a spot on the floor between two benches and took out my laptop. Thirty minutes after my 10:15 appointment time, I asked the receptionist when I might be seen. She assured me that the doctor was making good progress and that there were just a few more people ahead of me. She was very nice about it. But she didn’t apologize.

Nor did the perky young woman in scrubs who eventually beckoned me into the inner chamber.

“We’re running a couple of minutes late,” she explained, leading me to an exam room.

No kidding.

I knew that she was apologizing in her own way, but it wasn’t the same as saying the “s” word.

She assured me the doctor would be right in. I hurried into the gown, not wanting to be caught half-dressed. And then I sat for a while on the edge of the exam table. And sat.

Ten minutes later, the doctor came in — a solid hour and a half after my scheduled appointment. Apology? Forget about it. Sure, he spent about half an hour with me, and I liked him, and he didn’t seem rushed. But I was distracted. For all of his politeness and ability to listen carefully and answer my questions, the fact that he couldn’t be troubled to say “sorry” bothered me.

Maybe it’s because I’ve been there myself. I’ve had hectic days when nothing was going right, when I was an hour behind, when someone knocked on my door every five minutes to tell me that my patients were grumbling in the waiting room.

A couple of times, I chose not to apologize.

And when I looked at those patients and saw, each time, a flicker of hurt, I felt ashamed.

So now I always say I’m sorry for being late. It takes only two or three seconds. It feels good. It’s a quick and easy way to break the inevitable tension that builds during a long wait. It clears the air. It’s humbling.

Saying sorry for being late shows respect. And it gets respect.

Reisman is a general internist in Connecticut. She can be reached at anna.reisman@yale.edu.

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