Look Deeply Into My Eyes

As you can glean, dear reader, I am attending a medical trade show. I attend quite a lot of medical trade shows which depending on specialty can be a fascinating learning experience or an outright snooze. This particular show is for psychiatry and this meeting is the largest global gathering for this specialty. Doctors come from Peoria and Delhi, Madagascar and Calgary. It's a virtual melting pot of behavioral health.

The mental health specialty encompasses a broad range of diagnoses and treatment; anything from mild insomnia to full out psychotic schizophrenia. These clinicians are in a field that rely heavily on intuitive thinking as well as clinical tools to determine diagnosis. A psychiatric is more than the shrink who doodles on a pad while you ramble on about your issues with your mother; they're products of medical school and arduous residencies. They have a working relationship with biology and chemistry, critical in understanding pharmaceutical formulations. And they have to incorporate that whole diagnosis analogy based purely on behaviors as well as symptoms. It's a tough gig.

So despite my admiration for this misunderstood and oft-maligned specialty, I do have a complaint. I interact with many psychiatrists in my work. They contribute content. They serve on editorial boards. They are our customers. Over the years I have noticed an unusual trend when conversing with these practitioners--they are easily engaged and speak candidly yet they avoid direct eye contact. In conversation with several physicians yesterday, I was flabbergasted by their eyes looking everywhere but at me. The conversation was easy and comfortable yet they couldn't focus their vision in one place.

This is hardly a new trend. Physician editors with whom I have a warm relationship avoid eye contact. The founding editor of our publication and a close ally has never had a conversation with me where he will train his eyes on me for more than a second before they roam the room again. I am starting to get the feeling that I either possess a distinct Medusa quality (and I do like the notion of turning mortals into stone on sight) or that these physicians are fearful of the intimacy that eye contact suggests. I can't figure it out.

Alas, it's a characteristic in general that bothers me most when I interact with people. I like people who make eye contact. They're focused on their dialogue with you and they are looking for recognition, skepticism, accord or any other emotions while visually interacting. That a specialty noted for its level of patient interaction and intimacy seems to display this characteristic more than any other is intriguing. I once asked this question of a psychiatrist that worked with us and who I presumed would seem open to the observation.

"Oh, please!! That's not true!" he exclaimed as his eyes wandered to the ceiling.

Clearly, more research is required.