It’s common practice for doctors to document a family history of medical problems. This can be useful information to diagnose presenting symptoms and to identify health issues to which we could be genetically predisposed. So, with this theme in mind, I’m sharing an excerpt from a short story titled “Michagas,” which I wrote many years ago. For those who are unfamiliar with the meaning of the word, it describes a certain ‘craziness’ that is indigenous to Jews.
When A Patient’s Question Has No Scientific Answer
As patients, we often don’t know what questions to ask, especially when it comes to inquiring about a serious medical condition.
“3 am”
Somehow myself survived the Night
And entered with the day
Henceforth, I take my living place.
Emily Dickinson
It is a “heart to heart.” It is not with me, but with him—him being someone with knowledge of the disease, with credentials and whom she trusts.
As I Sat With Tamara
There was a daily calendar on the wall emblazed with the words: “Today is” but there were no pages left.
Not to Be Forgotten
We have all lost loved ones. Although not forgotten, the departed can recede to the back of our minds unless prompted by a memory such as a photo, song, written note or countless other things personal to the relationship.
False Hope
I was recently reading the transcript of the “Voices from the Lived World of Illness” video, which the Center for Communication in Medicine produced in 2003. The 4 patients featured in the video shared candid observations about their experiences. In previous blogs I’ve referenced some of their comments. Yet, upon re-reading their words, I am reminded that their perspectives are as relevant today as they were 18 years ago.
High Contemplation
As readers of my blog already know, I am drawn to thinking about the space between uncertainty and hope. At this time of year, I often find myself revisiting “Stanzas Concerning an Ecstasy Experienced in High Contemplation” by St. John of the Cross, which moves me to thinking about the mysteries of life and what’s to come. I’d like to share his words with you.
We Do Not Remember Days, We Remember Moments
As I’m getting older, I think about what has passed, passing and to come. I am catapulted back in time to my tenure as medical humanist at Southwestern Vermont Regional Cancer Center (2002-2005). What comes to mind is the celebratory ritual upon the completion of each patient’s treatment, which was an array of balloons and bouquet of flowers. It was a lovely gesture that most patients embraced with the belief they were cured. And many were—but there were no guarantees.
A Conversation is a Process of Coming to an Understanding
Recently, a colleague from time passed forwarded me a quote from Hans-Georg Gadamer’s book Truth and Method. He noted, “I thought of you as I read it and that you might appreciate this enough to pass it on.” I was unfamiliar with Gadamer’s work.
I Don’t Want to be Here
During this time of COVID-19 we’re all experiencing some kind of disconnect from others. Our lives are out of sorts. To be sure, none of us want to be in this situation.