Storytelling is an artform that all humans participate in and forms the cornerstone of medical practice. It can bring insight, peace and healing to both storyteller and audience. Healthcare staff most commonly tell stories about patients which leaves their own stories unexplored.
Inspired by the Moth Storytelling Project and the Nocturnists Podcast, ‘Hope and Humanity’ was the theme for the inaugural National Health Stories live event in Sheffield in November 2024. I was invited, with four others, by Dr Susy Stirling to become a storytelling coach for this event. Our role was to work with our individual storytellers and each other to produce an evening of healthcare stories which would entertain, educate and provoke ideas for change. This involved careful listening and questioning to establish the ‘golden thread’, optimal structure and content of the stories. Learning about key elements of successful story-telling from Kate Morrisey of TEDxNHS gave us a platform to work from and the Crucible Theatre team provided inspiration on performance skills. The hard work of rehearsing and memorising the ten minute long, true stories belonged to the storytellers. It was a real privilege watching them grow in confidence and perform flawlessly, alongside poet Faye Marshall, to an audience of 250 guests. As a coach I experienced the thrill of learning new skills to help bring a story to life and joy at sharing that experience with a team of likeminded colleagues.
The sound of the audience listening and the roar of applause that followed each story told me that there is a real need and appetite for more.
Dr Sandy Miles – GP & Medical Educator
Introducing Dyanne, one of our fantastic storytellers to describe her experience.
As my leadership fellow year was winding down, I received an email asking for a volunteer storyteller for stories of hope and humanity. Humanity in medicine was something I was taking back to my clinical practice.
Having replied, I then panicked when I was accepted, but having a session with my storytelling coach helped me settle. In one of those moments, I decided to tell a story I believed I had reached closure with, although I struggled to talk about it. A part of me felt raw and vulnerable and wished the story hadn’t happened every time I talked about it. As I wrote, I remembered the many times following the incident when I had wished that there was someone’s story out there I could read to get me through the medical error. I wished there was a name and a face to any medical error story to convince me that making an error does not make me less human rather, it made me human enough.
Writing the story was okay, but when it got to time to retell it, I could feel the emotions and something more – shame. Shame of admitting that this was me, and although I had gone through this and learnt from it, there was that shame of acknowledging that my medical career had had a few bumps. It seems like my story demystified me and there was the fear of being judged. I had moments of doubts about how the story of my vulnerability would sit with the audience in a period when anti-immigration talks were at an all-time high.
But then, sitting in the room, listening to others tell their story, was the courage I needed to tell my story first to the small group, then again to a slightly bigger group. As I told my story, I could connect with the audience and felt like I found my voice. Every time I repeated the story, I owned it and the emotions more.
One thing my coach mentioned was that this was my story to tell. It was mine, and only I knew the lines and the ending. Acknowledging that this was my story and that the effect it had on me was mine to decide was the pep talk I needed to own the scars and realise that although it hurt, it was beautiful. Shining light on the story’s hope and humanity could let others see beauty in their vulnerability.
I was finally able to challenge the guilt and shame I had held in for many years. As I stood up and faced that crowd, all I saw was the mirror I needed to see how human I had become by owning my story and how by doing this, I was letting others know that it was okay to fall and pick ourselves up again.
As the applause rang through the room, there was a sigh of relief from me. It was the sigh of liberation because it was liberating to let off the cloak of ‘Little Miss Perfect’ and be ‘Little Miss Dyanne’. I felt bold enough to say yes, I am the girl who made an error BUT learnt from it. I left that day knowing that through storytelling, I could connect with my emotions and own my story.
When I set out to tell my story, I was hoping to let my voice be heard. But in the end, I built connections with the other storytellers and coaches and gave myself the gift of hearing my voice and healing.
Dr Dyanne Imo-Ivoke, Paediatric Registrar, NHS
Photo by Theo Crazzolara on Unsplash