Okay, so the story involves @AaronLBerkowitz’ journey with a few patients between Haiti and Boston through his work with @PIH. Axtell’s narration of #Kreyol words and unique characters was sublime.
Sooo good.
6/ What I most loved about this book was the transparency of @AaronLBerkowitz’ reflection. He shows his feet of clay and navigates the stories with such personal & cultural humility.
Global health stories and images can be tricky sometimes. But this book nails it.
Seriously.
7/ Concepts that I pondered while reading this book:
Social justice
Health equity
Cultural humility
Faith
Trust
Interpersonal communication
Consent
Fear
Mercy
Community
Servant leadership
Joy
Failure
Triumph
Imposter syndrome
Support
Love
Yup. ALL of these.
8/ I recommend this elegant book. Not just #medtwitter but to all my fellow book nerds. I loved it.
Let me also say this:
1. I’ve NEVER met @AaronLBerkowitz, worked with him, nor do I have any other #COI.
2. I’ve also never seen a whole damn thread amplifying someone.😂
But.
9/ I DO know what it’s like to work hard at a passion project. I also know what it’s like to pour my heart into an idea and hope it can be impactful.
I leaned over the sink with its rust-stained drain and ran cool water over my hands. Patting my fingertips over my face, I stared in the mirror. I’d been awake for >24 hours. It showed.
I tried to give myself a post-call pep talk.
Me: “C'mon, sis.”
2/ I was tired. But not just tired from the lack of sleep. It had been a cognitively hard night with sick-sick patients. While it had gone mostly fine, my brain was still steaming. Not to mention the sustained tachycardia I had every time I took call in the PICU.
It was rough.
3/ This was before duty hours reform. And it’s relevant here is because it explains why I had clinic that afternoon--even though I was post call.
I had just one wish:
To get through rounds in time to finish all my work and avoid having to return to the PICU after clinic.
1/ “Now that it’s raining more than ever, know that we still have each other. You can stand under my umbrella.”
– Rihanna
I entered the elevator alone one evening after a long day. Leaning my head back on the wall, I prepared for a peaceful ride to the ground floor.
Yep.
2/ After passing 6 floors, the lift stopped on the 5th floor. When the door separated, I opened my eyes and saw one of the Grady environmental services employees standing there with two giant rolling trash bins and a bunch of other stuff for cleaning.
He stepped back.
3/ Him: *waving his hand* “I’m cool, doc. I got a lot of stuff. I'll just get the next one.”
Me: *stepping aside* “Nah. It’s cool. Come on.”
And so he did.
Me: *glancing at him* “You good today?”
Him: “Yes ma’am. ‘Bout to drop this stuff off & go to the hizzouse!”
1/ Today is #WorldAIDSDay and I'm reflecting on the time that I got my first voluntary HIV test.
Wait.
I take that back. I am reflecting on the time that I decided to submit a narrative about my experience getting my first voluntary HIV test for publication.
Meta, I know.
2/ So I'd written this narrative back in 2008. And the fast story is that it was about me being a hypocrite about pressing a patient to be tested for HIV when I had never been voluntarily tested myself. Why?
Because I was scared.
Yup.
3/ I put that all on paper. Spoke this truth about being afraid and how my fear was rooted in the growing numbers of Black women impacted by HIV.
I mean. That's what I told myself.
But then I asked my colleague/wondertwin @DMalebranche to read it & give me some peer feedback.
1/ Stepped onto the Grady elevator last week. A Grady elder tipped his cap to me and nodded.
Me: “Good morning.”
Him: “Good morning, doc.”
*silence*
Him: “I like your hairdo.”
Me: *patting head* “Thanks, sir.”
Him: “I see you let them greys come on in, huh?”
*laughter*
2/ Me: “Yeah. Went on and let ‘em do what they wanted even at the risk of looking older.”
Him: *scowls* “Older than who?”
Me: “Older than my age. . . or just older than I want to look.”
He turned his mouth downward and nodded.
Him: “Mind me asking your age?”
3/ Me: *nervous laugh* “I would say guess but I’m scared of what you’ll say.”
Him: *squints* “Hmm. You somewhere ‘tween ‘bout . . .mmm 45, 50 or so.”
Me: “50.”
Him: *nods and shrugs* “Yeah that seem ‘bout right.”
Me: “Wow. That’s cold.”
Me: "Hey there. . . Mr. Jones? I’m Dr. Manning. I’m the new senior doctor on your team."
Him: *arms folded in chair and staring at floor* "Mmm hmm."
Me: “Good to meet you.”
*silence*
I noticed his long, long legs extending across the linoleum.
2/ Me: “Hmm. Let me guess...are you... 6’4? 6’5?"
Him: *eyeroll*
*silence*
Him: "That's a dumb-ass question.”
Me: “My bad, sir. Guess I was just curious and thought I'd ask."
Him: "Go on and get curious 'bout these lungs, hear?"
Yikes.
3/ Mr. Jones took exaggerated breaths as I auscultated his back. Lungs had good air exchange. He wasn't requiring oxygen. And, according to the respiratory therapist, he was tolerating less frequent breathing treatments.
1/ She almost ran me over. Right outside the Grady entrance by Jesse Hill Jr. Drive.
Her: "Sorry, 'scuse me!"
She blew by panting and didn’t even look in my direction. As she did, her right shoulder shrugged hard to secure the diaper bag sliding off of it.
Me: “It’s okay.”
2/ Her young face was troubled and full of urgency and determination. Too much urgency if you asked me. But so very determined.
The next words she spoke were for the preschooler who, instead of keeping up with her, was studying me.
Her: "Come on! I said we in a hurry!"
3/ I playfully raised my eyebrows and wiggled my fingers at the child who, instead of smiling back, recoiled toward her mother. Still, as they passed me by, she craned her neck keeping those eyes trained on me in my long white coat.