“At 2 a.m. during my residency, a dying patient asked for a Coca-Cola. That moment taught me something about humanity that no technology ever could.”
The artificial intelligence revolution is well underway. Our children are learning in ways that no generation before them has. Our jobs are increasingly enhanced with automated AI tools and data synthesis. Some of us even ask our GPT models to help us navigate challenges in our relationships. Where does the capacity of artificial intelligence end? Experts have begun to predict jobs that will become obsolete due to this rapidly advancing technology. Repetitive and data driven work will be handed over to computer programs that can produce results within seconds. How will humans compete with all-knowing intelligent machines for employment? The answer is simple – humanity. I learned this lesson in my residency from a dying man.
I once stared in the face of humanity on a late-night call in the inpatient hospital ward. My pager went off at 2 am and I was asked to evaluate a man in his 60s with the ominous diagnosis of metastatic esophageal cancer invading his trachea. Despite chemotherapy and radiation, his disease progressed. He told the nurse that he couldn’t breathe and that he was dying so she summoned the on-call physician.
The nurse sent me his vital signs, all of which were normal. I set out for the cancer ward to do my assessment of the patient. “How are you doing?” I asked, as my medical student and I entered the room. “You know that I am dying,” he replied angrily. I examined the patient, then sat down next to him and asked where he was from. We talked about his job and how he once led an active life. He spoke about family and hobbies as he began to smile. After chatting I asked him if his shortness of breath could be anxiety and he agreed. He thanked me for helping him feel better. Before I left the room I checked if I could get him anything and he requested a Coca-Cola. I quickly replied “sure thing,” but the nurse reminded me that he could have only ice chips as his cancer had formed a tracheoesophageal fistula. I asked if he would like me to find a Coca-Cola to swab his mouth with. He would be able to taste it. He loved the idea and I set out with my medical student to find a Coca-Cola at 2 am. We had no cash and wandered the empty halls of the hospital looking for a vending machine that accepted credit cards. Upon our victorious return with an ice cold, 20-ounce Coca-Cola we were witness to one of the simplest yet most beautiful moments our inpatient cancer ward has seen. The nurse, medical student and I were beaming as we watched our patient enjoy the cold, sweet beverage. For those seconds he forgot about his anxiety and cancer and smiled along with us. The dichotomy of death and healing resonated in a delightful harmony. When science is pushed to its limit we often find ourselves at the crossroads where medicine and humanity meet. We are left without any tools in our armamentarium and can do nothing more than care for the patient.
As technology advances, our ability to learn and solve many of the earth’s mysteries will continue at an accelerated pace. It is precisely at this moment that the skills of empathy, leadership, trust and communication are essential. In our current state, our academic institutions teach traditional subjects such as math, science and writing. Our children are turning more and more to devices instead of human connection and anxiety and depression are on the rise. The behavioral health crisis in the United States and globally continues to grow with 1 in 7 people suffering from a mental health disorder worldwide. Strained mental health systems fall short of addressing the problem and the gap between need and access grows wider.
Human-centered leadership has never been more important. Technology is a powerful tool, but it cannot replace a caring teacher or compassionate physician. Creating organizations, schools and communities with emotional intelligence and human connection at the very core will develop people that feel valued and irreplaceable. I often think back to that patient in the quiet hospital room, smiling as he tasted Coca-Cola on a swab at two in the morning. Our future will not be defined by machines that can think faster than any human but rather humans that care more deeply than machines ever could.