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Latest Voices
A Golden Gift
I spent my early years as a talker—one who told stories to her dolls and instructed them how to behave in imaginary social situations. Although I was a good student, teachers often labeled me as loquacious, as the student who raised her hand but spoke before being called on. Only when my parents and paternal grandmother told me stories did I stop speaking and start listening. The more they shared, the more I learned the value of not just hearing the words of others but of listening to the meaning behind those words.
February More Voices: Listening
Layers
“He pulled his Dobhoff again.”
The pager’s words echo on my retina as I indulge in a prolonged, beleaguered sigh. These are the five-minutes-til-sign-out pages that are going to push me to start Amlodipine (a blood pressure medicine) before I’m thirty.
He’s ninety-six years old. He doesn’t remember his name, where he is or what year it is. He has no proxy or next of kin. He’s not talking.
A Christmas Gift
Two years. Fully masked with my eye shield every single day with no issues. COVID patients, non-COVID patients. Bring them on! I wore my PPEs, practiced social distancing, wore masks, avoided crowds, shopped during off hours. The whole nine yards and never caught COVID.
A Day in Respiratory Clinic: Omicron Version
We start with only two pre-booked patients, a mom and her six-month-old baby, but by forty-five minutes into the morning, the schedule is full. I take my own COVID test (negative) and joke with the medical assistants about how they resemble pregnancy tests. Already wearing scrubs and N95 mask, I suit up with face shield, disposable gown, stethoscope and gloves. I breathe.
Ten Little Soldier Boys
“Seven little soldier boys chopping up sticks; one chopped himself in halves and then there were six.
“Six little soldier boys playing with a hive; a bumblebee stung one and then there were five.
“Five little soldier boys going in for law; one got in chancery and then there were four.
“Four little soldier boys going out to sea; a red herring swallowed one and then there were three.”
Adapting to Uncertainty
I retired at age 89 from a primary-care internal medicine practice of nearly six decades. Medicine as service has permeated my bones, my mind, my spirit. How can I still contribute, without a medical license, without a prescription pad? Especially in the age of omicron, with uncertainty abounding everywhere?
Perhaps examining the reality of uncertainty, and how my fellow clinicians and I learned to adapt to it, will be of some value.
Dodging the Virus
Although I wasn’t the last kid picked for teams in gym class, captains never clamored for me, either. That was sensible, given my nominal athletic skills. In softball or kickball, my defensive strategy consisted of trying to psychically deflect incoming balls from my sector of the outfield, desperate to avoid letting down my team with an embarrassing miss or fumble.
Climate Change in Peru
A couple of summers ago, I spent ten weeks in Pullcapa, Peru. I was a mere time zone away from everything I knew; at the same time, I was in a completely different world. I worked at a grassroots nonprofit dedicated to improving the lives of the indigenous Shipibo-Conibo population. In this space, I was ready to delve into global health, improve my Spanish, and appreciate Peruvian culture through meeting people and exploring my environment.
