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

SubscribeEnergizeOR
Facebook Instagram Tiktok Bluesky

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

SubscribeEnergizeOR
Facebook Instagram Tiktok Bluesky

Anonymous

Coping with the Present

Leave a Comment / Not Knowing /
 
I was diagnosed with prostate cancer a few years ago. I did my best to get all the information I needed through research and information, but the thought of having cancer scared me. So I listened to everything my doctor had to say–including that I could have either chemotherapy or surgery, but that with surgery, he would be more likely to get all of the cancer, since it had not spread beyond my prostate. I chose surgery.
 

Coping with the Present Read More »

The Masks We Wear

Leave a Comment / In Pain /

Every day we pass by friends, acquaintances, classmates and strangers, and all of us are wearing smiles on our faces. For some, that reflects feelings of bliss, joy or contentment. For others, though, it can be a mask.

I often think about my pain and the smile I wear to mask it. Most days, I am have the ability to express my troubles and fight the uphill battle against chronic depression. I tell myself, “You can do it! Just go and talk it out with your therapist.”

At least I had the ability to express myself and fight the battle; Helen did not.

The Masks We Wear Read More »

A Dreary Day

Leave a Comment / Tough Choices /
 
It was a dreary January Seattle afternoon. I’d lost my job helping my son, who’d suffered repeated outbursts of angst despite doctors, counselors and inpatient hospitalizations. 
 
I sat sipping tea across from Martin, my child crisis system advocate. Martin’s eyes seemed kind. We discussed my options. It became clear that the Child Study and Treatment Center (CSTC), Washington State’s inpatient child psychiatric facility, was the only viable residential choice. State programs meant mounds of paperwork and procedures. As I said, “Let’s get the process going,” Martin’s demeanor changed.

A Dreary Day Read More »

The Janitor

1 Comment / Crying /
 
Outside the OR, at a dictation desk in the cold, quiet hallway, I sat alone. I stared at the black-and-white floor tiles, my eyes tricking me into seeing diamonds, then squares, then diamonds. As if my chest were squeezed in a vise-grip, I could barely take a breath. My body was frozen in place, held stiffly upright by the hard chairback, the only thing keeping me from collapsing inward.

The Janitor Read More »

What’s Wrong, Dad ?

Leave a Comment / Crying /
 
When I walked into my father’s hospital room, he began to sob. I didn’t cope well with his tears. I experienced them as a reaction to his seeing me and started to beat myself up, to think to myself, What have I done?

A voice at the back of my mind said, This is his illness–you can’t take it personally. But even so, I felt hurt by his crying.

What’s Wrong, Dad ? Read More »

© 2024 Pulse - Voices from the Heart of Medicine, Inc. All rights reserved.

Website Design & Development by New York Design Studio, LLC

Start typing and press enter to search

Scroll to Top

Subscribe to Pulse.

It's free.

Facebook Instagram Tiktok Bluesky
GIVE THE GIFT OF PULSEGiveTHE GIFT OF Pulse