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

Latest Voices

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Latest Voices

The Lightness of Choice

Abortion was not a concept that played a role in my life. I never imagined that rape would leave me with an unwanted pregnancy; I refused to consider that any future child would face multiple disabilities that might diminish or eliminate his or her quality of life. Instead, I married and, nine months later, found myself pregnant.

Unfortunately, I discovered my pregnancy after getting special vaccinations for a trip to Greece. The doctor feared that one of the shots he had given me might affect the fetus, leading to birth defects in my first child. I remember his looking directly

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An Editor’s Invitation: Abortion

This month’s More Voices theme is Abortion.

For a long time, we’ve resisted posting this theme out of concern that it would generate more heat than light–more vitriol than compassion. But recent legislation that would make abortions illegal in Alabama, Georgia, Ohio, Kentucky, Mississippi, Missouri, and now Louisiana has made us think that we need to find a way to broach this subject and talk about it with kindness and respect for one another.

Might we start that conversation by sharing our personal stories about abortion?

I hope so, and I’d like to share two experiences.

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Dogs and Cats and Nouns and Verbs

Two maxims come to mind when I think about parenting, maybe because I was pretty lucky until the teen years. 

In the early years, I didn’t need maxims. As a single parent, I needed support and friendship, child care, a good job, health insurance, and a bit of luck–all of which we had as a family.  

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Corporality

My first memory is of me asking my mother about the man trapped behind the glass of the picture frame that lived amongst the gods in my grandmother’s temple. I learned that he was my grandfather, and that he stopped breathing to go to a better place. I didn’t understand why he didn’t love my grandmother enough to take her along.
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Free to Be . . .

As a single parent most my children’s lives, my identity fixated on motherhood. I managed their successes, failure, moods and challenges. I was at the helm of our ship.
As they entered their teens, they described my steering as “stupid.” So, I shifted from captain to astronomer, helping them navigate by reading the stars. Taking a backseat was uncomfortable, and I bit my tongue (a lot!), rather than elicit another battle. I surrounded them with trustworthy adults, recognizing the same advice uttered from a different adult became morsels of wisdom in their eyes. As an astronomer, I had subtle influence

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Firstborn

Cradling this two-month-old baby boy in my arms, stroking his face, savoring the infant skin.

Wait, what is that? A gap, something in his jawline?

My heart races. I run my fingers gently over that same spot, the one that worries me, this time using my palpating finger more intentionally.

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Destined to Be Fatigued

 
Crashing the car should have been the wake-up call.
 
The driver had fallen asleep at the wheel while driving a familiar road at midday. If angels exist, they were surrounding the driver’s car that afternoon. Because the car crossed two lanes of traffic when no cars were coming from the opposite direction. Because the vehicle headed toward a fenced-in spread of uninhabited land. Because the accident did not occur where homes line the road. Because the driver escaped with mostly minor injuries and did not harm another soul. And because the metal fence post that came through the windshield missed the driver’s head by just

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Labor of Love

Push, push. You’re almost there. Your baby is almost here!

As a family medicine physician, I’ve uttered some rendition of that speech numerous times during my career. Yet, when the tables are turned, those words were less than comforting.

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