WELCOME TO THE SPRING-SUMMER 2024 INTIMA: A JOURNAL OF NARRATIVE MEDICINE

I learned a new word while our editorial board was doing a review of 456 submissions for this Spring 2024 issue of Intima: A Journal of Narrative Medicine. It was “confabulist” from “The Confabulist’s Daughter,” a Field Notes essay by Lauren Burgoon, a pediatrician finishing residency in Philadelphia. ‘Confabulation’ is a neuropsychiatric disorder wherein a patient generates a false memory without the intention of deceit, and in Burgoon’s funny, astute and loving tale about a mother with memory loss and a fertile imagination, we discover several generous and sane ways to deal with loss, be it our own lapses or our loved ones. Kristin Graziano’s “Contents Have Shifted” takes on the same subject with grace, too.

Mothers dominate this issue, in poems, tributes, meditations, and artwork, as shown in the above pastel painting “The Weight of Motherhood” by pediatrician Rabia Hakim, as well in the emotionally-fraught short story “Not Today, Not Tonight” by family physician Donald Kollisch. In “Another Day of Childhood,” scientist and mother Amanda Ford provides her own perspective of seeing her young son growing up to be a caregiver. Fathers get a shout-out too, in “Toe to Toe” by Elizabeth Mitchell and “Sestina for My Father” by Lynn Lawrence, both distinctive and complex narrative tributes.

Two short stories that made the cut during our anonymous review process come from clinicians on our editorial board. One—“Mangoes” by Rachel Prince—is a beautifully written narrative about a daughter and mother; the other, “Old Scrubs,” by Bruce Campbell, relates an epiphanic day in the life of a longtime surgeon. We applaud their efforts as well as the 57 other contributors whose work we showcase.

As we publish this issue on Memorial Day, a day of reflection and remembrance of those who died while serving in the U.S. military, we honor them as well as all of those who protect us in our lives during turbulent times. A special nod to contributor and former medical officer in the United States Navy Evelyn Potochny, whose harrowing essay “Landmines” demonstrates the impact of tragic injuries and death during conflict, a subject uppermost in ours—and many minds—every day.

Points of view are celebrated in this and every issue of Intima: A Journal of Narrative Medicine, and one of the best expressions of diversity comes in Miller School of Medicine first-year Sneha Akurati’s drawing inspired by Leonardo DaVinci’s iconic anatomical imagery. Akurati’s artwork celebrates the diverse array of bodies found in reality—varied in shape, size and color. But, as she states, it also “prompts a crucial question: In the realm of medicine and scientific research, whose bodies are prioritized? Does science keep me in mind?”

Wentiirim B. Annankra’s stunning essay, “When the Patient Has No Money,” echoes that question. In it, Annankra, a Neonatal-Perinatal Medicine fellow at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minnesota, recalls a pivotal moment during a long-ago medical internship in Nepal, where she sees firsthand exactly what rupees can buy.

During our reviews, we were struck by the number of fine narratives about clinicians being patients, a classic “tables turned” theme that nevertheless received original and thought-provoking treatment in many pieces, including the skillful breast cancer saga “Sisters Under the Skin” by surgeon Carol Scott-Conner; the panicky and profound asthma log “My Own Shock” by Maxwell Wilberding, a fourth-year medical student at the Northwestern University Feinberg School of Medicine; and the amusingly Kafkaesque diagnostic drama “Something True” by Columbia University Vagelos College of Physicians and Surgeons medical student Sonny Fillmore. We urge you to read all of the works in this issue; these are a few starting points to consider.

Lastly, we noticed too, the number of ‘how-to” lists we accepted, including ER nurse-writer Denise Napoli Long’s “How-tos for Hospice Nurses” and “How to Visit the Personal Care Home” by Ann Green, a teacher and writer working on a memoir about caregiving for her mother in a rural area with limited healthcare resources. And having come full circle with that last note about a mother, we’ll close our Editor’s Letter, hoping you’ll start today on this shortlist of the stellar work—about mothers and others—in our Spring 2024 issue and suggest you join our e-mail list for updates about other work in it and in our archives, highlighted on our Friday Crossroads essays. Or meet us on Instagram @intimajournal. Thank you for your interest and enthusiasm. —Donna Bulseco for the Editors of Intima: A Journal of Narrative Medicine