More Than Just Giving Instructions
When people think of patient education, they usually picture a nurse or doctor standing beside a hospital bed or exam table, explaining how to take a new medication or manage a condition. They see it as a one-way flow of information—from the professional to the patient. And sure, a lot of it is exactly that: making sure someone understands a recommended vaccine, knows how to use their medication, or can recognize when it’s time to call their provider. But what I’ve come to learn in my work as an outpatient nurse is that patient education is more of a conversation than a lecture. It’s a two-way street. I’ve learned just as much from those exchanges as my patients have.
I’ve always believed in meeting people where they are. In nursing school, that meant studying communication techniques and learning to practice cultural humility. In the real world, though, it means reading between the lines, asking the right questions, and paying attention to how people respond to health information. That’s especially important in primary care, where we see patients over time. We get the opportunity to build trust and see how people apply what we’ve taught them, or how we need to teach them differently
Teaching Means Listening First
One of the biggest lessons I’ve learned as a nurse is that effective teaching starts with listening. When a patient doesn’t understand something, it’s rarely because they’re not smart or paying attention. More often, it’s because what I’m saying doesn’t line up with how they understand their health. I only know that if I stop talking and start listening.
There was a patient I worked with early on in the clinic who had been prescribed a weight loss medication. I did what I thought was a solid job explaining how the medication works, how to take it, and what to look out for. Then, we opened the box, and instead of an injector pen, we found a vial and syringes. We were both surprised- the patient thought I knew she was coming in with vials, and I had no idea she wasn’t using the pen. Giving an injection with a pen is very different from preparing one yourself, and I needed to figure out how to teach this different skill, quickly. I’m a fan of learning by doing, so I explained how to draw up the medication, where to inject it, and how to safely dispose of the sharps while the patient prepared the dose herself. She admitted she had a harder time following the instructions than she expected, so I made sure to include the manufacturer’s instructional video in her take-home instructions. That experience taught me that communication is essential. Luckily, there was no harm done, and the patient still got the education she needed, but it underscored the need for clarity and adaptability in the outpatient field.
Learning Through Repetition—and Patience
I’ve learned that no matter how clearly you think you’ve explained something, there’s always a way to misunderstand it. My dad had a major surgery that impacted his dietary needs and restrictions, and I feel like I have the same conversation with him (which I’ve jokingly started calling the hidden fats talk) at least once a month. He’s by no means health illiterate, but even he has trouble understanding the necessity of diet modification to meet his needs. I’ve used examples, tried to teach by demonstration, and given dozens of reminders, but each time there’s still a piece missing. I never give up on teaching him, and I’ve found that it’s often the same with patients: sometimes, you just have to say it a few times.
When Patients Teach You
Here’s another thing they don’t always tell you in school: your patients will teach you, too. Not just about their illness, but about medicine, communication, and human behavior. Many patients will bring up cultural differences, dietary needs, or family dynamics that completely reframe their care plans. I’m not the only expert in the room. My patients are experts in their own bodies, in their own lives. When I treat them that way, we both learn—and we both walk away with better outcomes.
The Emotional Side of Teaching
Patient education is also emotional work. I’ve sit with people as they digest life-changing news. I’ve had to explain how to monitor for symptoms of a disease they didn’t even know they had last week. It takes empathy, and sometimes restraint, to read the room and know when to keep talking and when to pause.
There’s also a vulnerability in teaching. You want your patients to understand, and it can be discouraging when they don’t. I’ve had to check my ego more than once and remind myself that if a patient didn’t grasp something, it’s not because either of us failed—it’s because I need to try a new approach. When your goal is your patient’s health, you stay motivated to keep working with them.
Moving Forward Together
Working in an internal medicine clinic has given me the gift of continuity. I get to see patients change, grow, and take charge of their health. And I get to keep learning, too. Every educational conversation helps me improve for the next one. I’ve come to see myself less as a dispenser of facts and more as a partner in the learning process.
I believe that patient education isn’t a single moment—it’s a thread that weaves through every interaction. Whether I’m explaining our vaccine recommendations or helping someone understand lab results, my job isn’t just to teach. It’s to listen, adapt, and walk alongside my patients as they figure it out in real time. The best education happens when both people leave the room a little more informed—and a little more connected.