Him: “I got a bone to pick with you.”
Me: “Me?”
Him: “You.”
He pointed at me for emphasis.
Him: “I’m not so sure I like how you was talking ‘bout me.”
I sifted through my head to try to think of any verbal missteps. I waited to see what he’d say next.
2/ Him: “I know you said y’all was gon’ do some ‘shop talking’ about me. But look like you forgot I was even there when you got to saying what you was gon’ say.”
I felt my face grow warm. I decided to just keep listening.
Him: “You talking ‘bout some ‘That’s impressive!’”
3/ Wait. Was that the bad part?
My brow furrowed and I pressed my lips together. He went on.
Him: “But like, I knew from how you said it that you ain’t mean impressive in a good way. I mean, not how most things that impress a person impress ‘em.”
*listening*
4/ Him: “And to be honest? I liked that y’all was talking right in front of me. But something ‘bout what you seen on me being ‘impressive’ and my rash being ‘angry’ made me scared.”
He sucked his teeth and sighed.
Him: “I ain’t like that shit.”
My eyes began to prickle.
5/ Me: “Damn. I’m so sorry, sir.”
Even though my voice was tiny, I meant that.
Him: “I know y’all be in the zone doing the doctor thang. But shit! I’m right here and I want to know what’s going on, too!”
*silence*
I held his gaze and gave a slow nod.
Me: “I’m sorry.”
6/ I pulled up the bedside chair and sat.
Me: “Can I do some shop talking with you, sir?”
This made him smile. I smiled back.
Me: “Okay. So when we were first talking about your leg and they described it being red, what I saw seemed like more than I was expecting.”
7/ I gently peeled back the covers to expose his lower leg propped up on a pillow.
Me: “So there’s this thing called ‘cellulitis.’ It’s a skin infection and it’s super common. It makes your skin red and warm and kind of hard to the touch. You with me?”
Him: *nods*
8/ Me: “So that’s what I was expecting to see.”
Him: “But it IS red and hot and hard to the touch, ain’t it?”
Me: “I mean, yeah. But like, you see how it’s raised up a lot almost like a cliff and extra red? That’s more than what I’m used to seeing in cellulitis.”
Him: “Hmmm.”
9/ Me: “So that word I used—‘impressive’—was me trying to say that to my team. But I shouldn’t have.”
Him: “I mean, you COULD say it. But not just say it and leave it, you know?”
Me: *nods* “Yeah.”
*pause*
Him: “Damn. That rash DO look angry at somebody!”
*laughter*
10/ And so. We talked some more about cellulitis and differential diagnoses for the really angry variety. I admitted that I didn’t remember much about this thing called erysipelas but maybe it could be that.
But maybe not.
And I showed him a picture to see what he thought.
11/ Him: “I don’t know if mine is THAT impressive.”
That made both of us laugh out loud—hard. And all of it was good.
Very good.
So our ID & Derm colleagues saw that rash and weren’t convinced of it being erysipelas.
But, according to him, they DID find it impressive.
12/ Him: “2 different people asked if I ate oysters.”
Me: “Yeah?”
Him: “I said, ‘Oxtails? Yes. Oysters? Naw.’”
And that made us laugh some more.
Yup.
With IV antibiotics, his leg improved. And, thanks to that feedback, his doctor improved, too.
1/ I was sitting down doing some work in a quiet area at Grady one day and this little girl, who was with her grandma, walked right up to me and touched my stethoscope.
Her: “Are you a doctor?”
Me: “I sure am.”
Her: “For real?”
Me: “For real!”
I handed her my stethoscope.
2/ She slung it around her neck.
Her: “Is it fun being a doctor?”
Me: *squinting an eye* “Hmmm. You know what? It’s hard sometimes but, to me? It really is fun on most days.”
She seemed to like that answer. Now she was putting the ear tips into her ears. I helped adjust them.
3/ Her: “I can be a doctor, too.”
I loved her firm tone and the way she said it to me pwith full eye contact. This was a statement—not an aspiration.
Me: “You know what? I bet you can.”
She placed the diaphragm on her chest. Then her eyes widened.
1. If you are planning Grand Rounds or national/regional conferences, I’m suggesting #URiM people you should invite to speak.
2. This is a way to increase the number of professors from underrepresented & historically excluded backgrounds.
Mmm hmm.
2/ Because, for example, out of ~ 39K full professors in US med schools only ~ 300 are Black women. (Do that math—it’s <1%!🤬)
So while it’s cool to follow them here, I’m saying INVITE THEM and CITE THEM so that they can get promoted.
But wait—there’s more. . . .
3/ I explicitly say “with honorarium” because time is NOT a renewable resource. AND because while the “honor” is cool, when you don’t come from generational privilege, it’s even COOLER with an “arium” next to it.*
It was a Sunday. The students and interns had the day off so it was just the senior resident and me. This Grady elder was our last patient.
Yup.
Me: "What questions do you have for us?"
Her: "I don't have any questions. Y'all answered them. Thank you."
2/ Me: "Okay. Is there anything else you need before we go?"
Her: "May I have one minute of your time?"
Us: *looking at each other*
Resident: "Sure. Tell us what you need."
She extended both of her hands out toward us, gesturing for each of us to take one of them.
We did.
3/ She held our gaze and then spoke.
Her: "I'd like to pray for y’all. Is that okay?"
Shoot.
My breath hitched. I didn't want my resident to feel pressured or uncomfortable.
Shoot.
Had I been alone? This would’ve been a no brainer. But I was not.
1/ Random moment while in line in the Grady coffee shop:
Her: "I remember you. You that lady that said I need to lose weight and get a better fitting bra when I said my back hurt."
Me: "I remember you, too. You changed your hair. It looks nice."
2/ Her: "It's a wig.”
Me: *shrugs* “I still like it on you.”
She folded her arms and sucked her teeth.
Her: “I didn't like you at all."
Me: “No?”
Her: “No!”
Me: "I can respect that choice. How's your back?"
Her: "Respect what choice? A wig or me not liking you?"
Me: "Both."
3/ Her: "My back is a lot better."
Me: "Oh yeah? What did the trick?"
Her: "I lost some weight. And got a different bra."
*laughter*
After that, she reached out and gave me a big hug. And I hugged her right back. Hard.
I could feel your grief the moment I stepped into the room. The resident had already told me of your loss.
So fresh.
So recent.
They said you cried on an off for the whole visit. BP controlled. Labs fine. And a depression screen was negative.
Yeah.
2/ So me? I was just tasked with closing the loop as the attending physician. And, with no concerns with your chronic conditions, there wasn’t much to add or teach.
Or say.
I mean, other than sorry. Because I was.
I so was.
3/ I’d never met you before this day. But when I walked in and saw your face cloaked in pain, I searched myself for something. . . anything . . . to help.
But what was there? You had funeralized your son. And yes, though he was “grown” as you said, still.
Me: “I know other people have mentioned this to you already, but just wanted to check in about the #COVIDVaccine. I’m told you’re still thinking about it.”
You: “Yeah.”
*silence*
Me: “Wait, so yeah, you thinking about it?”
You: “Yeah.”
2/ *laughter*
Me: “Would you be okay with me talking to you a little more about it? Like, to give you more things to consider as you deliberate about it?”
You: “Yeah.”
You gave one eyebrow a playful raise.
Me: “Yeah?”
You: “Yeah.”
3/ You: “Although I think I done heard everything you ‘bout to say.”
I gave a hard nod and thought for a moment.
Me: “Okay. Then I need your help.”
You: “Help how?”
Me: “I have your ear but I sort of don’t know what to say. So I’m hoping you can tell me what’s stopped you.”