One of the things that makes medicine so maddeningly difficult, is also one of the very things that makes it wonderful:

You can think you know a patient, understand an illness, and unexpectedly find hidden depths you never knew were there.

It’s been a while since I worked. 1/
I took some time off. Found my focus. Breathed deeply.

It was a needed break. A needed distance.

However, as the days passed, I realized I was missing something. A part of me.

Now I’m back in my office seeing clinic patients again. 2/
My patients today were all rescheduled from earlier dates because of my time off.

The first one I see is an elderly woman I’ve followed for several years.

As I enter I noticed she’s watching anime on her phone. I can’t help but smile.

I didn’t know she was into anime. 3/
“I watched Avatar with my grandkids, and then just started watching myself. It’s all so exciting, and the artwork is so good!”

As she explains, my smile broadens. She tells me right now she’s watching a show about an academy for people with powers.

“I keep an open mind.” 4/
As we go into the rituals of the visit, I add a bit to the first line of my clinic note: “She loves anime.”

The key first line that I write into every clinic note, with a few crucial little personal details.

Crucial because it is key to helping me connect with the patient. 5/
The next patient regards me over the thick frames of his reading glasses.

“And where have you been doctor T? Heard you were on vacation.”

I smile and shrug, “Staycation.”

He shakes his head disapprovingly. “You’re young. Go see the world.”

I nod, “Maybe next year.” 6/
He shakes his head, “Don’t keep putting it off. Life comes at you fast. Travel when you can. I’m going to Dubai next month.”

“What’s in Dubai?”

He grins, “I’ll tell you when I get back.”

To his first line in the clinic note, I add, “Adventurer, ask him about Dubai.” 7/
My next patient has a single word at the end of the first line of her chart: “Astros.”

She is a huge fan of the Houston Astros baseball team.

I check the latest baseball scores on my phone before I enter the room.

The mood of the visit will depend on how her team is doing. 8/
She beams when I enter, wearing her Astros shirt and hat.

I have to smile.

There is something deeply comforting in fandom. The idea that we can take a journey with our team, celebrate with them, and mourn too.

She talks about the players like she knows them personally. 9/
As my day progresses, and I get back into the rhythms of clinical medicine, I find a fire deep within me rekindling itself.

I tackle a wide range of nephrological problems, and I discuss anime, world travel, and the Houston Astros.

Sometimes we forget why we do what we do. 10/
The nephrology part of each visit is obviously why the patients are here, and obviously where the bulk of the time is spent.

But I’m not so sure it’s where all of the healing happens.

Not for everyone.

To be seen and heard for who you authentically are, is medicine too. 11/
At the end of the day I’m sitting in my office. My medical assistant stops by to ask me how it feels to be back in clinic again.

I think of the moments that weave themselves together, becoming the fabric of our lives.

The hidden stories that people carry within them. 12/
One of the things that makes medicine so maddeningly difficult, is also one of the very things that makes it wonderful:

You can think you know a patient, understand an illness, and unexpectedly find hidden depths you never knew were there.

I tell her it’s good to be back.

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