Grief walks in many forms, and its footsteps are padded and quiet, imperceptible even, except to those who lay awake at night, counting its tip taps on the upper floor.
Read moreFinding the Human in Humanity. A reflection by Zoran Naumovski
I have been practicing medicine since completing my residency in June 2000. It baffles me that to this day I still hear comments from patients, families and loved ones that we physicians often cannot relate to their concerns, their health struggles and their ailments because we are doctors, because we harbor medical knowledge, because “we are not human.”
Read moreAt the End of a Call Shift, Who Gets to Go Home? A reflection by Angela Tang-Tan
Every now and then, at the end of a call shift, I leave the hospital with aching feet and heavy eyelids. And then I remember: I am the lucky one. I am the one who gets to go home. My patients – the grandfather whose kidneys are failing, the ten-year-old with meningitis – are not so lucky. They will not go home tonight. They may never go home again.
Read moreSearching for the Nugget of Connection by Kristin Graziano, DO, MPH, FAAFP
During the 10 years my mother spent in her nursing home two states away, I struggled with feelings of guilt and remorse. She suffered from dementia, requiring 24/7 care, and I couldn’t provide it to her. Yet there was always the plaguing thought that I should. I knew it wasn’t realistic. Still, I felt inadequate and like I abandoned her, even though I visited every few months.
Read moreA House, Not a Home: Reflecting how imagery can reveal the human psyche byJennie Vegt
One of the images from the Mitwelt Melt Series by Jennie Vegt. Spring 2024 Intima
“Finding meaning in suffering is sometimes the only coping strategy remaining,” says the artist. This series of six paintings explores grief in a visually complex manner.
Carl Jung believed house imagery in dreams represent the human psyche. In both artworks, the houses are familiar structures of shelter that simultaneously represent ominous confinement and isolation. We may be capable of observing and moving past some psychological structures that have become an obstruction, while others feel intertwined with our very being, like a house that fits more like a skull.
Read moreArt as a Body’s Blessing: A Reflection by physician-poet Sarah Piper
Even with the astonishing knowledge of medicine, the anatomy of an illness cannot fully be known from the outside. It takes an act of tender and careful acquaintance. And the only one who can truly map the illness of a living being is the occupant of an ill body. The geography of sickness is mysterious: its borders begin vague, its peaks conceal its valleys, its oceans rove and deepen and rearrange patterns of flood and firm ground.
Read moreThe Unexpected Labor of Caregiving by Ann E. Green
The poem titled, “To the Woman at My Mother’s Funeral Who Thought It Was So Lovely that My Mother Died at Home” by Kathryn Paul (Spring 2022 Intima, Poetry), circles around my mind days after reading it. Paul’s poem eloquently speaks back to the assumption that it is always good to die at home, that home deaths are always peaceful. The literal hands-on work of caregiving—the cleaning of blood, mucus, urine and feces — is unspoken and generally done by women, whether paid or unpaid, and the writer, who in her bio calls herself “a survivor of many things” captures this in her poem.
Read moreLearning to be Present for an Act of Dying by UCSF Medical Center professor Krishna Chaganti
It is the great privilege of medicine that we are asked to show up, constantly, albeit in a different role than a family member would be. To not look away is in the fabric of what we do. It is partly why the practice of medicine can be exhausting, electronic charting and reimbursement quibbles aside. We are asked as caregivers not to dispense always but to receive, to hear questions that we don’t want to reflect upon. It is our privilege to be present.
Read moreHow We Doctors Learn How to Act and React by USC Keck School of Medicine medical student Angela Tang-Tan
I am at the point in medical school that I can forget how strange a place the hospital is. Most days, I pre-round around 5am and I leave as the pink and gold of sunset reflects in the windows of the inpatient tower. I no longer smell the antiseptic that pervades the air. I write my notes oblivious to the announcements of “code blue” or “stroke team activation” playing over the intercom. When I walk through the hallways, there is purpose in my strides. The core clinical rotations that every medical student undergoes (family medicine, surgery, pediatrics, etc.) are a time for exploration and the forging of identity. We learn: This is how doctors act and react.
Read moreThresholds and Doorways: Exploring Mental Health Narratives Through Art by Emory MD/PhD candidate Aubrey Reed
© Beyond the Threshold Aubrey Reed Spring 2024 Intima
My first-ever clerkship rotation as a medical student immersed me in the realm of inpatient psychiatry. This profound and eye-opening experience blurred the boundaries between sickness and health. It challenged my preconceived notions and deepened my understanding of mental illness.
Read moreMissing Someone: A Reflection on Loss and Yearning by Shruti Koti
My short story “The Waiting Room” (Spring 2024 Intima) was inspired by recent legislation that threatens women’s rights and health. In the story, a young couple is troubled by a decision they made to terminate a pregnancy – they are scared of persecution and legal action, but they are also emotionally and spiritually haunted by their choice.
The story ends as they drive away from the reproductive clinic, but it is evident they will think about that afternoon for months, and years, to come.
Can one miss something that was barely there?
Read moreA Sestina in Honor of Tia Forsman’s “Remnant” by Lynn Lawrence
© Remnant 2 by Tia Forsman Spring 2022 Intima
“Radiographs serve as distilled moments of a human narrative,
An illness experience in greyscale” (From “Remnant” by Tia Forsman in the Spring 2022 Intima)
Sea glass/cutglass/eyeglass/stonefish/boomerang, Forsman’s remnants
Arrayed/x-rayed on the nightblack ocean floor of shapes and shadows.
From the French : to “rest”; to “remain”, “left over”; an underwater x-ray.
Overlapping, edges blurred, tenderly floating in an uncertain narrative.
This isn’t an x-ray. It just looks like one. Like medicine, a “grey area”
Forman is bilingual.. She paints in watercolor. She speaks in radiology.
Self-Examinations and the Burdens of Being Sick by Amanda Ford
Being sick takes work. There is the pain and exhaustion, the adaptation, the cognitive load required to keep moving forward when my body holds me back. There’s also the business of being a patient: sitting in waiting rooms, standing in line at the pharmacy, being on hold with the insurance company.
Read moreDoes one honor or diminish an elderly parent by insisting on the truth? A reflection by Davida Pines
Kristin Graziano’s “Contents Have Shifted” considers how best to respond to a parent’s dementia-inflected reality. “For years,” Graziano observes about her mother, “I felt compelled to refute her falsehoods. I felt that by correcting her, I could yank her back to The Truth, to the real world. When I did this, sharp words with resentful tones followed, leaving us both frustrated and silent.”
Read moreOur Body is an Ecosystem: A reflection by Jeanne Yu
I came across two Intima pieces in conversation with my recently published poem, “Mercury, A Public Service Announcement” When I was younger, I took my body for granted. I thought medical science or pharmaceuticals would patch all my future ills. Wanting to live life to the fullest made it difficult in my busy life to do more than what was needed at that moment and then move on ... but as I age, I find my body has kept score and is less resilient.
Read moreWe Wait….a reflection by writer Nancy Lewis
During my many years with chronic illnesses, I’ve spent far more time waiting for healthcare than actually receiving it. It’s always nerve-wracking. I never know how long I’ll be hanging around; it could be anywhere from minutes to hours. I fret over whether to go to the bathroom before or after an appointment, afraid I’ll miss my turn if I’m not there when they call me in. And of course, I worry about what I’ll hear when I finally get attended to; I’ve received lots of bad news over the years.
Read morePoetry and Palliative Care, a reflection by writer Dan Yashinsky
I’m writing in response to Danielle Snyderman’s Field Notes essay “Not Yet, The Epilogue” (Spring 2021 Intima). I wrote the poem “The Trail to Ahous Bay” to read aloud to my friend Joan Bodger. She was in the palliative care unit of Tofino Hospital on Vancouver Island. I had come from Toronto to visit with her, and to say goodbye. I was staying on Vargas Island, a short boat ride from Tofino, and had taken the cross-island hike that became the poem.
Read moreMoving into Compassion, One Small Moment at a Time by anesthesiologist Molly McCormick
I think about time a lot now. My days are ruled by schedules and cases and meetings, and I spend much of my day reacting to the pressures of the unrelenting sweep of the second hand as it moves around turning into minutes and hours, never slow enough for me to accomplish everything I need to do.
Read moreIt’s Happening to Me, Too: Reflections on Interconnectedness, Interdependence, and Independence in Caregiving Relationships by Leena Ambady
“Every thought begins with I. This is happening to him, I try to say,
not happening to me. But it is, too. This is my place to tell it.”
The above is an excerpt from Kristin Camitta Zimet’s “A Dialysis Diary,” (Intima, Fall 2023). In this beautiful essay, Camitta Zimet writes about her husband’s end-stage kidney disease, the initiation of dialysis, and the impact that his chronic condition and the treatment it required had both on her and her relationship.
Read moreCaring and the Challenges of Social Convention, by Jeffrey Millstein, MD
An internist reflects on his short story as well as a fellow physician’s personal essay and explores the complex issue of crossing implicit social boundaries in the clinician-patient relationship.
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