Me: “You okay?”
Her: *frowning* "I feel like I'm laying on top of something. Like a pebble or something."
Me: *squinting my eyes*
Her: "I looked all under me but it ain't nothing there."
Me: "Hmmm. Let me look closer."
2/ I sat her up and inspected the bed sheets. A wayward EKG lead perhaps? Nope.
What I found:
1. A flattened piece of scrambled egg (which I did remove). 2. Nothing else.
Her: "You see something I ain't see?"
Me: *shrug* "No ma'am."
Her: *groan* "No?!"
3/ Her: "But. . .I feel it right by my shoulder blade right here."
She squirmed and contorted her arm to reach the area. I flashed a light on her back for a closer look.
Her: “I swear I ain’t crazy. I feel it soon as I lay back!”
Me: "I'm looking but I don't see anything."
4/ Me: “I just don't---ooooh. . . . hold up.”
*gasp*
Her: *swinging around to look at my face* "What?"
Me: “Oooooh snaaaap.”
Her: “What?! What is it?!”
Me: “Umm . . . it’s . . .uh. . it’s . . . ooooh weee.”
Her: *shuddering* “Is it a . . .bug?”
Me: “A BUG? No!”
*laughter*
5/ Me: *holding my side laughing*
Her: *eyes widening* "Then what is it, Dr Manning!?"
*silence*
Me: *leaning in* “It's a . . . umm. . big. . .uhh. . . a big A blackhead."
Her: 😳
*laughter*
Her: "Wait what? Did you say 'a big A blackhead?'"
Me: "Yep."
*laughter*
6/ Her: "Oh Lawd! Ugggh!"
Me: *raising eyebrows* "Want me to bust it?"
Her: *looks at me in horror* "Bust it?"
Me: "Yeah!"
*silence*
Her: "I have a big A blackhead-- big enough to feel like I'm lying on . . . a rock?”
*silence*
Her: "Lawd. I'm 'bout to pass out."
7/ Me: "Maybe you're a princess."
Her: "A who?”
Me: “Like in the fairy tale.”
*covering her face*
Her: “PLEASE tell me you’re lying about this big A blackhead, Dr. Manning.”
Me: *grabbing gloves* “Nope. And I am SO about to bust this sucker."
Her: "Dr. Manning!"
*laughter*
8/ Her: "Lord have mercy. You really gon' bust this big A blackhead on my back?"
Me: "OH yeah." *pretends to crack knuckles*
Her: "Seriously?"
Me: "Only if you want me to. Although I may need to call OB for some back up."
Her: 😩
We were nearly out of breath from laughing.
9/ Her: "Is it a rule that you can't say big ASS blackhead?"
Me: "I'm probably not even supposed to say 'big A'."
Her: "I want you to put that in my chart--just like that. 'Diagnosis: Big A blackhead.'"
Me: "Nooo!"
*more laughter*
Me: "Okay. Lean forward." *cleans off area*
10/ Me: “Oh snap! This thing is crowning!” *pressing gauze* "Whoooooaaaaaa."
Her: *gasping* "Dr. Maaaannniiiiing! Is it gross?"
*laughing*
Her: "Show me. Wait! No--don't! Wait! No--show me!" *flapping hands and cringing* "Wait! Don't!" *fake crying* "Look--I have goose bumps!"
11/ Me: "I need to send this thing to the nursery to be weighed."
Her: 😩
I folded gauze into my glove and disposed of it.
Her: *shaking head* "Wait ‘til I tell my husband ‘bout my doctor busting a big A blackhead on my back!"
Me: "He probably saw it before I did.”
Her: 😳
10/ Her: "Hey--I almost forgot. Remind me of the princess story."
Me: "‘The Princess and the Pea.’ Remember that one?"
Her: "Was it about a big A blackhead on her back?"
*laughter*
Nurse: *walking in* "Okay! Y'all are having way too much fun in here!"
Which was true.
11/ After that I caught her up on a few more of our plans. Then I told her the story of the Princess and the Pea which she said she'd never heard but very much liked.
And that was it.
The entire exchange took <3 minutes--max. Comedone extraction included.
Yup.
12/ Some of the best advice I ever got as an intern was this:
"Let nothing be beneath you."
Which I always remembered. I'll also add this:
Don't let anyone tell you that there's not enough time to be human. Because there always is.
Always.
Got that, interns?
13/ That day I popped a giant blackhead on a shoulder blade, tightened some cornrows on a patient's hair, bought a very nice non-diabetic patient an ice cold Coke in a red can, and even had a heated debate on who was the #dopest: Judge Judy or Judge Ginsberg.
*sigh*
Yup.
14/ And you know? None of those things had anything to do with ANY of the reasons those patients were hospitalized.
But.
ALL of them had to do with helping a patient feel better.
Which is always the goal, right?
Me: "How're you feeling today?"
Him: "Well. I been better. That medicine y'all gave me made me run off!"
My team looked puzzled.
I did not.
Me: "Oh no! You talking 'bout the medicine we gave you for your gout flare up?"
Him: "Yeah! That one!"
2/ Him: "Shit, you coulda warned a brother."
Me: "Dang. I really should have. I'm sorry."
Him: "Yeah, if it wasn't for that bedside commode it woulda been a clean up on aisle 1!"
He laughed.
I was glad he was making light of it.
Me: "I apologize, sir. Colchicine can do that."
3/ Him: "It's cool. My knee is feeling a little bit better so that's good."
Me: "I'm glad. And again, I'm sorry for not giving the heads up."
Him: "I'm okay, doc."
I turned to my team.
Me: "'Running off' is diarrhea."
Them: "Ohhh."
Him: "Oh my bad, y'all."
1/ Her: "Why haven't you left for L.A. yet?"
Me: "Huh? Oh. Yeah. I'm pretty much almost done. It's okay."
*silence*
Her: "But, like is it?"
Me: *sighs* "Me rushing there won't change anything."
Her: "Depends on who you ask."
And after that, we both went back to charting.
2/ I was on the hospital service last April when I got the news. Dad had this sudden onset of disabling vertigo. We'd learn it was a cerebellar stroke. My sister was there in LA. At the bedside and wringing her hands as next-of-kin.
So she kept me posted.
And I kept rounding.
3/ On that first day, I walked right in and told my team.
Me: "My dad has been admitted to the hospital. It seems that he's had a cerebellar stroke."
And I said it in that "but I'm fine" voice. Because at that time that's what I was telling myself.
1/ Me: “I’m glad to see you.”
You: “You know what? I’m glad to see you, too.”
*silence*
Me: “You know how you’re loved, don’t you?”
You: *smiling gently* “I do. I think that’s what makes this so hard, you know? Can’t feel a loss like that without feeling a love like that.”
2/ We both let out big exhalations. After a few beats, you swung your head in my direction.
You: “How are you?”
Me: “Me?”
You: “Yeah. You.”
Me: “I’m fine. I just wish... um… you didn’t have to feel what you’re feeling.”
You reached out for my forearm. And then sighed again.
3/ You: “Yeah. But I’ll be okay. We were soul-connected. That will comfort me.”
I nodded. Then we sat in silence.
You: “But for real—how are you? Like with all this cool stuff you’ve been doing.”
Me: *puzzled look*
You: “It has to make you miss your dad and your sister.”
1/ I just finished this beautiful, courageous, and searing memoir “I Can’t Save You” by @CQ__MD. It was . . . in a word. . . sublime.
Whew.
And full disclosure—as his former med school advisor & friend—I love Dr. CQ.
But.
I also love books and honesty.
And he knows that.
2/ @CQ__MD will be the first to tell you that I won’t endorse anything—even a book my my beloved little bro CQ—unless I’d read it myself and believed others should, too.
And now I have.
And wholeheartedly I do.
But before you jump in—and you should—let me say this. . .
3/ There are some parts that explore depression, thoughts of suicide, and self-harm. No, not recklessly. But yes, with raw honesty. So you need to know that up front.
He does NOT play it safe around his lived experiences as a Black man in the ivory tower.
1/ I had imagined what this day would be like. Played it out in my head and saw various iterations of me exploding in celebration.
In some versions, I was doing the running man or, quite literally, running in triumphant circles, #MatchDay envelope in hand.
"Wooo hooo!"
2/ I also saw these visions of me quietly weeping, one hand extended to the heavens in gratitude. My lips quietly murmuring prayers of thanksgiving.
See, I was my ancestors' wildest dreams. And not even just my enslaved ancestors but the Jim Crow survivors who raised me, too.
3/ So, yeah. This was about to be big.
I was even on the #MatchDay party committee. And since we were broke, that meant soliciting donations from faculty & parents & anybody who felt proud enough of us to shell out a few coins.