A computer screen feels different. It sits between us like another participant in the consultation, constantly asking for clicks, checkboxes and confirmations. Instead of leaning into the conversation, I sometimes find myself leaning toward the keyboard. That may seem like a small difference, but to me, it changes the entire feel of the encounter.
Then came electronic medical records (EMRs).
If I am being completely honest, I have never been a fan. I still find myself sighing when I have to log in, when another password expires, or another software update changes a workflow I had only just gotten used to. There are moments when I feel that I spend more time typing out a patient’s story than actually hearing it.
I know I am not alone.
Every doctor has an EMR tale to tell. The system freezes just as you’ve finished typing a detailed note — and somehow it wasn’t saved. You finally remember the new password after the mandatory reset, only to discover that it now requires another authentication code sent not as a text message but in an email that you still have to open. You spend several minutes clicking through tabs to find a test result, while your patient patiently waits across the desk. Sometimes a single outpatient consultation generates more mouse clicks than meaningful sentences.
Perhaps the greatest struggle is learning to look at both the patient and the screen at the same time. We want patients to feel heard, yet our fingers are busy documenting every symptom, medication and physical finding before we forget them. I have caught myself apologizing more than once: “I’m listening — I just need to type this first.”
The frustration is real.
Many physicians describe EMRs as one of the greatest contributors to administrative burden and burnout. What was designed to improve healthcare can sometimes feel as though it has inserted itself between doctor and patient. Instead of maintaining eye contact, we find ourselves looking at a monitor. Instead of listening uninterrupted, we have to pause to enter medication doses or search for the correct diagnosis code.
Yet, as much as I resist them, I also cannot ignore what EMRs have made possible.
A patient’s laboratory results from months, or even years ago can be retrieved in seconds. Medication allergies appear before prescriptions are finalized. Imaging reports no longer disappear into thick folders. Specialists working in different hospitals can often review the same information, reducing duplication and improving continuity of care.
During emergencies, immediate access to a patient’s history can save valuable time. For patients with chronic illnesses like diabetes, hypertension, osteoporosis, or thyroid disease —conditions that require years of follow-up — the ability to compare trends over time is invaluable. A graph showing years of blood sugar control or bone density measurements tells a story that scattered pieces of paper simply cannot.
EMRs also reduce another very familiar problem: illegible handwriting. More than one pharmacist has probably wished for electronic prescriptions after trying to decipher a doctor’s hurried penmanship. Patients, too, appreciate not having to carry thick envelopes of records from one clinic to another.
Of course, technology is not without its own risks. Systems can fail. Internet connections go down. Cybersecurity threats are real. Copy-and-paste documentation may perpetuate errors. Templates sometimes produce notes that are longer but less meaningful. And not every healthcare institution has the resources to implement these systems.
Perhaps the biggest challenge is that good Medicine cannot be reduced to checkboxes.
A patient’s fears, hopes, family dynamics and lived experiences rarely fit neatly into structured fields. The best physicians still need curiosity, empathy, and attentive listening — qualities no software can replace.
Medicine has always evolved, and each innovation has required physicians to adapt. Electronic medical records are another step in that journey.
I still prefer the simplicity of pen and paper, and I probably always will. But I am also learning that embracing change does not mean abandoning the values that matter most. The screen is only a tool. Compassion, trust and clinical judgment will always remain the true heart of Medicine.