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

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

From Darkness To Light

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.

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Remarkable Lady

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.

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Not on Our Watch

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.

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Keeping a Stiff Upper Lip

Medicine presents many opportunities for bravery. Years ago, I was at a medical imaging facility, where a  child was getting a CAT scan. The mom said to her offspring, “Be brave.” Sometimes, bravery is going into a burning building to save a kid, and sometimes bravery is a kid going into a small tunnel of a CAT scanner.

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Snow Day

I wake up to a miracle.

Snow, in Texas: real snow, not merely a listless splatter of ice and sleet. There must be two inches now, at the least.

Normally, I would be meeting patients, straining to hear narrowed valves and weakened lungs through the prim aluminum of my stethoscope. First, I would make a painless remark to help smooth the shift to the paper-lined examination table; something about the weather, probably. There’s always something to say about the weather.

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Letting Go

I have never been a brave person. As a little girl, the monster under my bed—a creature I knew was real—prevented me from sleeping or gave me nightmares when I managed to drift off. That monster morphed into peers who intimidated me with their confidence, their ability to flirt with boys, their freedom to jitterbug on the dance floor. Heights, reptiles and bridges over water continue to frighten me. I guess I am a weak person wrapped in a tall, seemingly strong frame.

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February More Voices: Bravery

Dear Readers,

It’s winter of my senior year of college. I’m returning to my dorm one afternoon and am startled to see its three-story brick edifice almost hidden beneath a blizzard of bedsheets, banners and placards. Is this some kind of celebration?

Drawing closer, I make out the bold letters on  these makeshift signs: “NO CO-EDS IN SAGE,” “KEEP CO-HOGS OUT.”

This isn’t a party; it’s a protest.

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Choosing to Live

“Would you do it again?” my husband’s friend asked. Gesturing to indicate the weight of the decision, Dan held out a hand and said, “On the one hand, I needed 10 liters of oxygen 24/7 and probably wouldn’t last six months.” Then he held out his other hand and said, “Or a double-lung transplant. I chose to live.”

Dan had lived with scleroderma for 20 years, dealing with daily pain and countless medical procedures, while the autoimmune disorder gradually destroyed his lungs. But he loved life and was determined to keep going.

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Another Trip to the ER

Another trip to the ER. I am exhausted and worried and afraid. Fighting for doctor’s appointments, transportation, medications. No one listens or cares how hard it is.

“How does anyone do this?” I cry frantically into the nurse’s shoulder. She’s understanding and very nice, but she can’t make it all go away. She does what she can, knowing there’s nothing she can do once I take my daughter home.

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Strength Beyond Limits

There is a saying that mind over matter comes from using mental willpower to overcome challenges. However, for people with disabilities who have lost bodily function, it means something much more profound: a victory over the terror of disability, a celebration of the resilience it takes to face intense struggles.

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My Thyroid Thoughts

I have a hormone-related chronic disease, so I need seven pills per day. I have a hormone-related chronic disease, so I feel alone most of the time. I have a hormone-related chronic disease, so I cannot run or jump. I have a hormone-related chronic disease, so I harass myself most of the time. I have a hormone-related chronic disease, so I get mad with those I love.

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Dear Dr. B

Dear Dr. B,

I’m writing to say I’m glad I listened to my gut and didn’t let you cut me open.

You may be surprised to hear that my Achilles tendon grew back after a year of recovery—eight weeks on crutches and in a cast, 32 weeks in a boot, various shoe lifts and wedges, months of physical therapy, acupuncture, visualization, extra vitamins, collagen, bone broth, castor oil packs, and mantra and sound healing—but it did grow back, despite your lack of faith. I am now back on my feet hiking, teaching yoga, and even hula-hooping for an hour at a time, pain-free.

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