Abstract
Four years ago, in 2021, I became the complaints lead at our practice. I had just become a partner and it seemed an obvious role to volunteer for – it would take some pressure off the person already leading in that area and I thought it would be clearly defined and therefore an easy job to hand over.
I quickly regretted it.
The first complaint I ever dealt with became an enormous issue with serious repercussions for both the practice and the individuals involved. I handled it badly, which worsened an already bad situation, and took the whole thing very personally (even though I hadn’t been involved clinically). That episode was one of the low points in an extremely stressful period. Painful circumstances in my professional and personal life combined to push me almost to depression. I look back and realise that I was only just holding myself together.
For a year or so afterwards, I would continue to experience a flutter of dread in my stomach whenever a letter of complaint was forwarded to me – and they came in thick and fast. That first 18 months was something of a bumper time for complaints at the practice. Since then, there have been far fewer – whether this is to do with some of the changes we have made at the practice or simply that the post covid ‘hump’ of work has passed, I will never know.
What I do know, is that my approach and my emotions around complaints have completely changed.
While I can’t entirely shake off the feeling of heart sink when a complaint is forwarded to me, I now have a clear strategy. I have a model document that I use to base my response on, I follow some general guidance from the Medical Protection Society (MPS) and I tend to involve any clinicians named as soon as possible. More than all this – I have learnt to embrace the learning opportunity that is intrinsic to any significant event – which is what all complaints are at their core.
Complaints arise from some combination of anxiety, grief or failure of communication or all of those things. In my experience, they very rarely arise from a simple clinical error. Individuals who complain often have a strong emotional response to a situation and sometimes feel they have to complain out of a sense of duty. They are hardly ever malicious (although I have encountered this) and the clinician has usually simply misunderstood a situation or mis-communicated what they are doing. My role is one of mediator – I express an apology on behalf of the practice and sometimes an individual and I explain the situation from our perspective. I can honestly say that I relish that opportunity now, even if I don’t actually enjoy it.
An encounter with a patient who had complained, verbally, about me personally, recently demonstrated to me the benefits that a complaint can bring. This person suffers from serious and complicated health issues and they now see me regularly. I believe that the complaint – and the process of responding to it – deepened our understanding of each other and has helped to develop me as a doctor and helped them in their healing journey. In addition, our formal practice process of discussing all complaints regularly leads to everyone learning from events together and supporting individuals affected.
So, complaints can be painful and personal, but they can also be useful and cathartic. They can improve our relationships with patients and develop us as individuals and professionals. My advice is – embrace the complaint!
