1/ At @EmoryMedicine, our curriculum includes a 4-year longitudinal connection of 8-9 classmates assigned to one faculty advisor in “small groups.”
I’ve been an SG advisor since 2007 and it has been—hands down—one of the most rewarding things of my career.
Like, for real.
2/ Every other year since ‘07, I’ve been assigned a new small group.
Yup.
It’s sooo cool to meet them on their first day of Med school and then get to hood them on their last day! (My commencement tears have become legendary.)
Ha.
3/ Yesterday, I got to welcome my 8TH small group to our SG fam. And I swear, y’all. It’s like anticipating a new baby coming.
Here’s why:
Because now I know what can unfold over these years. Not just in medical school but beyond. It’s sooo magical.
4/ So fun fact:
My first SG dubbed themselves “Small Group ALPHA.” Since then, we’ve just stuck with the Greek alphabet to name each new group. (It’s been a great way to keep track of the generations.)
Mm hmmmm.
5/ When I imagine all that this family has meant to each other? I cry. (What a shock!😂) The connection remains.
Yup.
Long after training, the family remains. The text threads are still active. The bond is forever.
Le sigh.
6/ And what’s cool is that there are 16 groups led by 16 faculty every year. And YES. We do get sufficient protected time to pour into these students.
We sure do. Which is huge.
Man. I wish I’d had something like this as a student. It’s a game changer.
7:
And so. Allow me to introduce you to the newest members of the #SGManning family:
Small Group Theta!
Oh. And if you are looking at these photos and wondering if all of this is as special as it looks? The answer is YES.💙👊🏽
You: “They stay talking’ ‘bout how everybody could get that shot if they want it. All they got to do is walk in.” *making air quotes* “But that’s some bullshit.”
Me: *listening*
You: “That AIN’T all you got to do.”
You folded your arms in a huff.
2/ You: “Like, you go up in there and it AIN’T straightforward. ‘Specially at the regular pharmacies.”
Me: “No?”
You: “I mean, not if you ain’t good with filling a bunch of stuff out on line. Plus you got to have certain information.”
I stayed quiet. You went on.
3/ You: “I mean yeah, it IS some folks who dead against that #COVIDVaccine—but it’s a whole bunch of folks that would get it if it wasn’t so got-damn hard.”
*silence*
Me: “So, like what would be best? In your opinion?”
I placed my stethoscope upon a quiet chest recently. Flashed a penlight into eyes where pupils did not respond.
My fingertips rolled over the curve in the neck where a carotid pulse would normally offer up a reassuring thump--but felt nothing.
Nothing.
2/ Just cool, quiet skin.
This patient was severely ill. The family and patient had chosen a "Do Not Resuscitate" order to allow a natural transition. So, once it became imminent, no one fought it.
No code sirens.
No cacophony of ACLS.
Just a peaceful acknowledgment.
3/ The illness was far too mighty and swift to allow a transfer to hospice after leaving the ICU.
The family stood vigil for those first few hours. Then exhaustion set in. When it happened, no family was in the room.
1/ Mostly I have remained quiet about #twitter verification and (what I like to call) Black physician #verifygate.
Partly because I'd like to believe that verification starts with how we feel about ourselves.
But I'll also admit it's a form of self-protection.
You know?
2/ I also think of how, historically, there are so many examples of successful people who look like me who do or don't get the metaphorical blue check for their work.
So you say the thing we always say:
"You don't verify me. My community verifies me."
Right? Right.
3/ But then, if you have enough time, it creeps into your thoughts. And, even if it doesn't really mean anything, you think about it.
You know?
And listen. Since I'm generally not a person who likes to be upset, I will instead shape this into a case.
Them: "You need to steer clear of Ida."
Me: "Which one is Ida?"
Them: *head gesture* "The one talking to our attending. She's legendary for going off on interns."
Me: *swallows hard*
Them: "Look. She even checks attendings."
I looked.
2/ Ida's hands were animated as she talked. I noticed the way her biceps bulged at the meeting of her scrub sleeve when she moved her arms. Her head was up and eye contact deliberate.
3/ It startled me when they both erupted into laughter. It was warm and respectful. The attending said something else and she said something back. Both gave knowing nods.
And that was it.
Them: "Most of the nurses here are cool. Not her, though."