This week’s reading asks where care becomes thinner when clinical work treats expertise, evidence, conscience, access, or collaboration as a technical matter alone. I. 🎞️ How we represent suffering shapes how we are able to attend to it Representing Trauma: Artistic Decisions in Black Earth Rising Synapsis: A Health Humanities
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Our second monthly word — and an invitation to write together. Last month, we began In Common with a single word: Threshold. We have been deeply heartened by the number of responses it has already drawn — small, generous pieces from people willing to place a moment of illness, care, work, or
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by Su Ann This piece is part of In Common, a collaborative writing series where voices from across the healthcare community respond to a single shared word - Threshold The resus bay doors have a particular weight to them. You cross them and become someone else. The four-month-old came
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A personal experience of art transforming one’s perspective This piece is part of In Common, a collaborative writing series where voices from across the healthcare community respond to a single shared word. For our inaugural theme, Thresholds, Evangeline Chai reflects on how we might be able to cross the
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This piece is part of In Common, a collaborative writing series where voices from across the healthcare community respond to a single shared word.
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A working map of narrative medicine and health humanities resources: courses you can take online, free teaching materials, communities to join, and open archives.
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SGH Office of Well-Being The SGH Office of Well-Being has piloted a new Creative Health–informed approach to staff well-being, a debut initiative which reimagines how staff well-being messages are shared—through a sensory, aesthetically rich experience that invites staff to pause, connect, and feel cared
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Introducing a new monthly series — one word, and the gathered voices of our community. Our first word is Thresholds. Medicine can be a strangely lonely thing to carry. You witness something on a Tuesday afternoon — a piece of news received, a hand held, a small brave moment in a hospital
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An honest, up-to-date map of good homes for short reflective and creative writing about illness and care — essays, stories, and poems, not academic papers. Last checked early 2026; always confirm current guidelines before you send. You wrote the piece. Maybe it started as five minutes against a timer
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Forty narrative medicine writing prompts for clinicians, students, patients, and carers, with a simple method for writing to them.
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A HEART reading list: the journals, newsletters, and books we return to — and think you will love too. Every publication has its kin. HEART began from a simple conviction — that stories belong near the centre of medicine, not at its margins — and we have never held it alone. Some of
Keep reading →Personal essays from clinicians, nurses, allied health. The on-call you remember. The patient who stayed with you.
The view from the bed, the bedside, the waiting room. We especially want these — they matter the most.
Lyric, narrative, speculative, silly, mournful. Written on the back of a rounds sheet.
A teddy bear. A box of unopened tea. Write about one object and the story it holds.
Anything you want to look at carefully and tell us about.
A paragraph. A sketch. A single sentence on a post-it. The easiest place to start.
HEART started because medical humanities can sound like a closed club. We don't want to run that room. We want to run the pantry next door, where people come in, make a kopi, and tell you something they haven't been able to say all week.
New pieces arrive roughly twice a month — one featured essay, one shorter piece. No algorithm. No paywall. Unsubscribe in one click.
We read everything. We reply to everything. Any length, any form — a polished essay, a rough draft, a single line on a napkin, a voice memo you don't know what to do with.
Anonymous submissions are welcome — and often the most powerful.
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