I often think about the doctor who took care of me from my teenage years until my late 20s, a kind man who always treated me as if I were the most important person in the world. Even when I was a medical student and sure I had every disease I was studying, he took all of my complaints seriously and listened carefully to every word. And even though he almost never ordered any tests or prescribed medicines, I always left his office feeling dramatically better.

The healing power of communication has largely been lost in many doctor-patient relationships. And we've forgotten that many times, nonmedical problems in our lives can lead to or exacerbate physical symptoms and that nonurgent symptoms can dissipate with time.

I've been a specialist in infectious diseases. You can bet that by the time patients seek advice from someone like me, they have already seen a number of doctors. A while back, one of my patients came to me with a stack of medical records.

She was 46 and had been suffering from fatigue for more than a year. By the end of each workday, she was so exhausted that she could barely function. She had occasional headaches and a mild sore throat that came and went, but she denied having other symptoms.

What I learned

She saw her internist regularly and all her blood tests were normal. She underwent multiple X-rays and even had CT scans of her brain and abdomen.

Her internist sent her to an infectious-disease specialist who took a brief history and declared that she was fine.

She was convinced that she had an infection and that she just needed to find a doctor smart enough to diagnose it.

When I spoke with her, I found out that her husband had left her for another woman about a year earlier. After 20 years of being out of the workforce, she suddenly needed a job and became a receptionist for a demanding boss who was very impatient. She had two teenagers who were having a difficult time coping with their parents' divorce. Financial constraints forced her to trade her longtime home for a small apartment, where her kids had to share a bedroom, sparking constant fights.

I found her physical examination to be completely normal, and a review of her lab tests was unrevealing. It seemed likely that her fatigue was related to stress and possibly depression.

We have become so addicted to modern technology that doctors and patients forget the value of communication. To quote Francis Weld Peabody, M.D., author of the landmark essay, "The Care of the Patient," "One of the essential qualities of the clinician is interest in humanity, for the secret of the care of the patient is in caring for the patient."

My patient didn't need thousands of dollars' worth of lab tests and extensive specialist care. She needed someone to listen to her story, to empathize, and to reassure her.

It was a very lengthy and challenging consultation, and I did my best to learn about her as a person as well as a patient. My discovery led me to recommend that she end her quest to find an infectious explanation for her symptoms and to suggest that she seek out psychotherapy to possibly help her cope with the stressful circumstances in her life at that time. I don't know whether she took my advice.

I often wonder what would have happened if, earlier in her quest for help, my patient had discovered a doctor who was both a good listener and an effective communicator.