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What Remains

Grace Lin and Amanda Tam August 22, 2025 5 Comments

Amanda was the first friend I made at Royal West Academy, in Montreal. When I walked into art class as a new tenth-grade student, I scanned the room in quiet panic, noticing how everyone was already grouped together. Then I locked eyes with Amanda—the only other Asian girl in a sea of white students. She flashed me a grin, and I immediately made my way toward her.

We quickly became close friends. Over the next two years, we sat together in every class, laughing often. We stayed up late for FaceTime study sessions that often veered off topic.

Three Weeks in December

Susan Van Pelt Petry August 15, 2025 15 Comments

In my crowded triage room, I hear the emergency-room physician say, “Trauma blood, STAT!”

I have been rushed to the ER after throwing up liters of blood at home. I have GI bleeding.

I’m tipped back on the gurney, head lower than my limbs, with my mean arterial pressure in the low mid-60s. Paddles are ready; transfusion begins.

Two days later, I undergo an endoscopy. Is it ulcers? Something else?

Medicine Without a Bottle

Chris A. Smith May 23, 2025 20 Comments

Editor’s Note: May is National Nurses Month.

When is hope medicine?

In the middle of the night, a woman’s feet quietly whisked across the hospital floor to my bed.

I was seventeen, grieving the death of my mother by suicide, and the loss of our family unit. I was the oldest, doing my best to keep everything and everyone together. My stepfather was absent, spending most of his time drinking at Lex’s Lounge. My younger siblings alternated between staying at home or with our grandparents. By all accounts, it was a confusing chapter in our lives.

My Demography of Grief

Howard Stein May 2, 2025 35 Comments

Sometimes life hands me stories I never could have imagined—yet, once they occur, I realize that I should have expected them all along. This story from my life in an old folks’ home is one such instance.

A little over two years ago, my family placed me in an assisted-living facility for elderly people. (Under my breath, I call it “insisted” living.)

Recurrence?

Susan Mack March 21, 2025 11 Comments

In bed, at midnight, nearly asleep, I roll from my back to my side. Suddenly, the universe spins. Or is it just my head spinning? If I were standing, I’d fall over.

I lie still, breathing, and waiting for the dizziness to pass.

Why am I so dizzy? I haven’t had any alcohol. I drank a lot of water today. I didn’t even take any of the medications in my cabinet that help me sleep.

Oh shit. A not-unfamiliar thought enters my head: Has the cancer gone to my brain?

Playing the Odds

Jef Gamblée February 7, 2025 21 Comments

“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.

Tourette Syndrome

Joan Greland-Goldstein January 7, 2025 7 Comments

Editor’s Note: This piece was a finalist in the Pulse writing contest, “On Being Different.”

“Hello. My name is Joan, and I have Tourette syndrome.”

This is my fantasy greeting when meeting people. It would give them notice that there’s something different about me—that I have a chronic neurological condition. It would alert them that I might make repetitive, annoying sounds, like clearing my throat or sniffing; or suddenly make a strange body movement, like flinging out my arm or jerking my head or shuddering. Not to mention the unexpected outbursts of irrational anger.

The Wonder of Knees

Mark Liebenow December 13, 2024 14 Comments

June 2020

I’ve put it off for as long as possible because replacing a knee is major surgery, and things can go sideways fast. Infection is #1 on my doctor’s list of concerns. Blood clots are #2, and I’ve heard stories of people who had clots travel to their lungs and died before they could get to an emergency room.

Pain is at the top of my list. My knee is now bone on bone, and I can’t limp all the way around a grocery store without packing it in.

The Real Me

Cassandra L. Wright October 1, 2024 8 Comments

Editor’s Note: This piece was a finalist in the Pulse writing contest, “On Being Different.”

“What are you?”

It’s impossible to count the number of times I’ve been asked this question, directly or indirectly.

When my family moved to Milwaukee from the South, I was twelve.

One day soon after, I was digging in my locker at Audubon Middle School when a girl named Tammy walked up to me.

Breathless

Amy McVay Abbott September 24, 2024 9 Comments

Editor’s Note: This piece was a finalist in the Pulse writing contest, “On Being Different.”

I was a disaster in fourth grade—too chubby for my Girl Scout uniform, which gapped where it should not have gapped. I dragged my right foot, so I wore orthopedic shoes. My horn-rimmed glasses made me look like a sixtysomething church lady. My jet-black hair with five cowlicks had been partially tamed with a beauty-shop permanent. I was the last chosen for red rover and other recess favorites.

Ten-year-olds know when they are different from their peers. I didn’t want to be different and felt self-conscious. Then came the coup de grâce.

Kindness in the Face of Loss

Yuval Topper September 4, 2024 6 Comments

Editor’s Note: This piece was awarded an honorable mention in the Pulse writing contest, “On Being Different.”

I’ve just received a call from a hospital: An urgent appointment at its fetal-medicine unit has been arranged for me for tomorrow.

I try to get all the critical information.

“Which hospital did you say?” I ask. The medical secretary repeats the name, sounding a little surprised. I haven’t heard of this hospital; but then, I haven’t really heard of any, except for our local one.

Finding the Upside

Amy Gietzen August 28, 2024 19 Comments

Editor’s Note: This piece was a finalist in the Pulse writing contest, “On Being Different.”

Being different is often viewed as bad. At a young age, I learned that it meant you didn’t belong. I vividly remember watching the Sesame Street puppets dance and sing about an object that “didn’t belong” because it was “not like the others.”

Throughout my school years, I tried hard to fit in. Being overweight, and as uncoordinated as they come, I constantly felt out of place in my body and among my peers. I remember trying so hard to make people laugh, to win them over.

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

Tag: patient stories

What Remains

Three Weeks in December

Medicine Without a Bottle

My Demography of Grief

Recurrence?

Playing the Odds

Tourette Syndrome

The Wonder of Knees

The Real Me

Breathless

Kindness in the Face of Loss

Finding the Upside

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

Tag: patient stories

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