fostering the humanistic practice of medicine publishing personal accounts of illness and healing encouraging health care advocacy

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fostering the humanistic practice of medicine publishing personal accounts of illness and healing encouraging health care advocacy

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July 2021

At Three O’Clock

Running to make my Tuesday biopsy appointment, I tripped, landing viciously on my hands and knees at the corner of Madison Avenue and 79th. Embarrassed, I was helped up by a gray-haired lady in her eighties. For an instant, I wondered if I’d get to be her age.

Walking into the clinic, I saw my husband, who’d insisted on meeting me there. My beige pants were slightly ripped and bloodstained, my knees tingling and smarting.

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Teaching Spin

My daughter and I enjoyed taking cycling/spinning classes together while she was in high school. We attended classes most weekends. As her graduation approached, she announced, “I’m going to get certified as a spin instructor and teach at college.” Then she added, “I think you should get certified to teach spin, too.”

So I did.

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Habit, Not Discipline

I used to work at a facility that had a very well-equipped on-site gym for employees. I would meet a co-worker there just about every day and we’d exercise together. One day, while walking past the receptionist’s desk, gym bag in hand on the way to my daily workout, the receptionist remarked, “You are so disciplined!” I smiled and continued on to the gym and my scheduled workout.

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