The Power of a Question

I remember the days when every word that came tumbling out of my 3 year old was “why”. Why? But why? With every answer the question repeated. What a time, when a child’s mind is continuously and constantly making sense of the world. Sometimes the question didn’t have a logical answer from an adult. That inquisition became a good exercise for me to question my answer and the logic behind that answer. I never wanted to answer with “because I said so” or “it is what it is.”

This inquisitive nature is core to decision-making for a clinician. There is a set of knowledge that is acquired through both the many stages of education and exams. But also the set of knowledge that comes from every patient encounter. Every patient encounter, some brief and others extended, based on the problem complexity, gives clinicians the application of the learned knowledge. Throughout that process, that practice becomes second nature, every data point to decision-making is arrived at a faster pace, inferences are made without the need to have every data point. The logic makes sense. The danger though lies in that speed, in the confidence, of the connected path of data to decision. 

To the dismay of the junior physicians who trained with me, I always asked a million questions during their patient presentation. “Who threw the baseball that hit the eye?” “How did it hit the eye, did it bounce first or was it a straight shot?” Some would ask: why does it matter if we are getting imaging? I wanted to know the velocity of the trauma, the mechanism matters as that would help me understand the extent of the injury before imaging is even obtained. For me, by questioning, I validated for both myself and hopefully the trainee, the depth of the feedback loop in making a diagnosis. Similar to a child, I wanted to make sense of each patient encounter. 

When was the last time you took a stroll, or in your daily commute, observed the world with that inquisitive lens. Why are there a set of fire escape stairs that connect to nowhere? How come the flowers here but not there have blossomed? Why does the traffic seem so much lighter on this particular road today? Our observations make us question, our questions open us to new possibilities, and new possibilities stave off complacency. 

Formalized education emphasizes memorization. Humans are creatures of habit. Structure more than novelty feels safe. Screen time decreases our ability to take in the world. These factors add to the decline of our curiosity. What happens when we cease to ask questions? 

We need questions to create. The anecdote for creativity is carrying on the child-like wonder and awe that comes from sensing the world around us. Much of that is given to us through nature, but also through what has been created: music, literature, and art. I pose to you a question posed to me by Professor James Pawleski recently: Think of a moment that a piece of art, music, or literature reshaped who you are today.