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Sayed Tabatabai, MD Profile picture
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13 Oct, 6 tweets, 2 min read
In line to vote early in San Antonio.

Have never seen it like this.

Nobody’s quite sure where the line starts. Everyone says to get behind “the guy with the purple hair.”

Fortunately he’s tall, and an easy landmark.

He seems unaware that his hair color is so clutch.
There’s an easy camaraderie. I think after all this isolation, it’s strangely reassuring to see so many people sharing a purpose (and wearing masks).

I feel hopeful, genuinely.

People keep filing in to join the line and I’m getting a kick out of the looks on their faces. 😮 2/
Ok we got our first “Aw hell naw!”

Someone walked in, saw the line, and said “Aw hell naw!” before turning around and walking away.

Weirdly their shirt said “STAND AND FIGHT!” with a rifle and a US flag.

Not sure what the significance is there.

The Line chuckled. 🤷‍♂️ 3/
Am I calling us “The Line”?

Damn right I am.

We are the Line. We are the Tsunami. We are Democracy in action and-OHMYGAWD someone has a Star Wars ringtone!

Someone in this line has a Star Wars ringtone and I’m GOING to be their friend.

It isn’t purple-haired guy.

Hmm.🕵️‍♀️ 4/
As I’m tweeting these I know how privileged I am. I’m standing in an air-conditioned auditorium. I’ll be voting real soon.

There are people standing in line for ten times longer than me, outdoors.

It’s wrong, and it shouldn’t be that way.

It has to change. 5/
Update. Selfie of me with my “I vot...

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More from @TheRealDoctorT

Sayed Tabatabai, MD Profile picture
12 Oct
We begin our visit.

In your hospital room, sunlight streams in through the windows.

Motes of dust hang suspended in the air, sparkling like some ancient magic.

You lie in your bed, propped up by thin pillows, on standard issue bedsheets.

We assume our roles. 1/
We go through the rituals.

We speak the words, and have the discussion. The updates, the options, the plans, the understanding.

When it’s over, you fall silent, then curse.

I think it’s at me, and flinch involuntarily.

Then I realize.

You’re looking at the TV. 2/
My gaze follows yours. It’s a football game. Ah, Sunday.

“Damn Cowboys. No defense.”

I nod, “Mind if I join you for a bit?”

“Go ahead doc. It’s gonna be bad for your mental health.”

I laugh and sit down beside you.

Together, we watch and criticize the coaches. 3/
Read 7 tweets
Sayed Tabatabai, MD Profile picture
3 Oct
((The following thread is part three of my “Sherlock Saturdays” series. The story is titled “The Invisible Army.” A link to part two (and part one) is provided below.

Sherlock and Watson travel to Chatsfield Manor in 1890, after getting a mysterious letter asking for help...))
The gentle rocking motion of the train is soothing. I find my eyelids growing heavy.

Holmes sits across from me, his gaze fixed on the English countryside as it flashes past the window.

The urge to ask him what he’s thinking is strong, but I don’t.

Somehow, he senses it. 1/
Arching a brow in that way that is uniquely his, he looks to me.

“What is it Watson?”

I hate it when Holmes’ powers of deduction focus on me, so I lie, “Nothing.”

“Nonsense. You wanted to ask me a question. Ask it.”

“Just wondering what your thoughts were, on the case.” 2/
Read 23 tweets
Sayed Tabatabai, MD Profile picture
30 Sep
Wake up with a strange feeling in the pit of my stomach.

Not quite anxiety, not quite fear.

Shower and it doesn’t go away.

Drive to work, construction on the roads, take the detour. Park and exhale, overcome inertia and get out of the car.

The air is unexpectedly cool. 1/
A man sits on a bench outside the ER. Torn jeans, hollow gaze.

He nods hello to me. I nod back.

Masks hide facial expressions.

I walk past, into the hospital.

COVID screening. Point the infrared thermometer gun at my forehead and pull the trigger.

Beep. Good. 2/
Get on the elevator to the ICU. It’s no longer a “COVID unit,” but I remember when it was.

This used to be the Monster’s lair.

We didn’t kill the Monster. It killed us.

200,000 of us.

And it’s waiting, biding its time, prowling, invisible.

Seething in silent fury. 3/
Read 11 tweets
Sayed Tabatabai, MD Profile picture
23 Sep
Some thoughts/comments on my last thread.

I took some time to digest everyone’s responses.

First and foremost, people wanted to know that my patient was okay. He is. We were able to find a good path forward. My office staff and I have learned to navigate these issues. 1/
Many people offered money, from here in the USA, to Canada, Australia, Peru. There were many requests for me to set up a GoFundMe.

If we were to set up GoFundMes for every patient we saw who was dealing with similar issues, it’d be our full-time jobs, and not a solution. 2/
Many people shared heartbreaking stories of their own, that were moving, infuriating, powerful.

One of the reasons the thread resonated is because of how universal the experience is.

It told us truths we already knew. 3/
Read 9 tweets
Sayed Tabatabai, MD Profile picture
16 Sep
“Why do you want to be a doctor?”

I answer without hesitation, “I want to help people.”

“There are many ways to help people.”

“I want to save lives.”

“There are many ways to do that too. So I’ll ask you again, why do you want to be a doctor?”

“Because I believe in it.” 1/
I think about that exchange now and then, some times more than others.

Why do we do the things we do?

What do we really believe in?

My next clinic patient is one I’ve known for many years. He is visiting me today via Zoom.

I always look forward to talking to him. 2/
As soon as the visit begins, I notice that his camera is angled off-center so I can’t get a clear look at his face.

I ask if he can adjust it, but he says he’s having technical issues.

No problem. I can adapt.

It isn’t just the camera though.

Something feels off today. 3/
Read 13 tweets
Sayed Tabatabai, MD Profile picture
12 Sep
((For part one of this story, please see below.

When we left our dynamic duo, they were investigating the disappearance of Lord Simon Byron.

Sherlock seemed convinced of foul play, but was stunned when the Lord appeared safe and sound...))
Forgive me, dear reader. I have committed that most egregious of errors in story-telling.

The mistake that drives Holmes mad with irritation.

Even now, I can hear his voice in my head, “Watson, start at the beginning! How can I deduce anything without a complete picture?” 1/
So let me start at the beginning.

The year is 1890.

My name is John H. Watson, and I am a physician and former army man. A bullet in the Battle of Maiwand a decade ago gave me a limp, and an honorable discharge.

Sherlock Holmes is my friend.

Together, we solve mysteries. 2/
Read 22 tweets

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