The patient dug her fingers into my palms, her grip so tight, yet slippery from the sweat. Tears streamed down her face. I could see her pain, from a place I couldn’t fathom.
She’d come to us in the second trimester of her pregnancy. When we examined her, there was no sign of life inside her womb. The fetus had not passed spontaneously, so we performed a procedure called Dilation and Evacuation, or D&E.
Humans Taking Care of Humans Read More »
The plants that curve into the bay window in the parlor
Drop their leaves to the scuffed wooden floor of this old house
When they no longer hold life.
There they dry and crumble
Scattering dust and debris across the soft pine,
Clinging to my socks
As I stretch to open the shade
And let in the morning sun.
Sweeping the Floor Read More »
The unspoken question looms. I might ask first, dropping a bomb that disrupts the medical visit. Or the patient asks at the appointment’s conclusion, when I query, “Anything else today?” Patient concerns brought up when their visit has ostensibly ended are dubbed “doorknob questions.” Previously, these were predictably about Viagra or vaginas. Since the November 2024 election results, my patients voice their terror that access to gender-affirming medical care will cease to exist.
The Heartbreaking Question Read More »
It’s been an interesting year. Eight months after having a large kidney stone removed, I was diagnosed with very early stage cancer—small, low grade, etc. The treatment (surgery) would very likely cure the cancer. The specter of cancer meant that I found this surgery physically easier, but emotionally much harder.
The aftermath of the surgery was interesting in unexpected ways, too.
Six months after surgery, at one of my periodic follow-up visits, I was sitting awkwardly at the end of the exam table, dressed in the standard patient gown and sheet, and waiting to see Becky, the nurse practitioner I’d been assigned to that day.
“I Know You Don’t Want to Be Here…” Read More »
At the independent-living facility, we take pleasure in our meals. And, the ingenuity of those who prepare them!
At this morning’s breakfast, for example, it was yesterday’s ham chopped and hidden in buttered egg whites. Those of us who remembered the menu smiled and ate, pleased with Amanda’s maneuvering leftovers. But tonight, it’s watermelon strawberry soup, something we’ve never had before. Served cold in little bowls.
Adventures in Fun Dining Read More »
It often begins subtly, almost sweetly. The extra attention feels like a warm embrace that draws you in, making you feel cherished and unique. You revel in the connection, in the moments where the world fades away, and it’s just you two. Their genuine interest in your thoughts and dreams ignites a sense of belonging.
But then, in an unexpected flash, the first inappropriate touch shatters that comforting illusion, leaving you frozen in confusion. The initial hope lingers, whispering that perhaps it was just a momentary lapse. You cling to the belief that you can still retain that special bond and navigate this new terrain unscathed.
From Darkness To Light Read More »
My aunt was a one-of-a-kind lady. Her laugh was infectious, and she gave the warmest hugs. I miss that laugh. And those hugs.
Every holiday was special. She made sure every one of her nieces and nephews had the perfect gift and spent the same on each of us, I mean to the cent! We all felt her love and knew she was proud of every single one of us. The saying, “to know her, was to love her,” could not be more fitting.
When she was diagnosed with cancer, she put on a brave face and acted as if she had something minor, like a hangnail. Being a healthcare professional, I knew better.
In February 1979, new regulations went into effect that were designed to protect women and ensure appropriate consent prior to sterilization of patients receiving federal funds. The waiting period was extended to thirty days for giving permission in advance of the procedure and could not be obtained while in labor. It fairly quickly was adopted as a standard, including where I was a student and resident.
“The odds of anything going sideways are less than one in a hundred,” the cardiologist said.
I was only half listening—too busy signing the papers indemnifying the Medical Colossus against any undue outcomes from my pending cardiac catheterization and probable stent placement.
“Less than one in a hundred,” he repeated.
No problem, I thought.
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