I was randomly shown this American news YouTube video the other day—you know, the kind with dramatic lighting and slightly-too-loud piano music in the background—and I almost scrolled past. I almost skipped it, but something made me stop. It was about a Stanford doctor, Bryant Lin,
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Scanning the notes on the Monday morning before ward rounds, I had a foreshadowing that this particular family was going to be challenging to speak to- multiple family communication notes over the weekend, documenting the medical team’s repeated attempts to explain to the family what was happening to their
Keep reading →I saw you, as a baby, Wrapped and swaddled in a coat of darkness Helpless, unable to fend for yourself Desperate cries were all you could harness I saw you, as a baby, Who had done nothing to deserve this plight Scared, scarred, shaken Unequipped to fight or take flight
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I first met Associate Professor Cheong Pak Yean when I was a medical student, assigned to shadow a GP for my clinical attachment. I was fortunate beyond measure that it was him – the same family doctor my parents had taken me to when I was sick as a teenager. Little
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Yesterday I saw Amidst a sea of grey on metal frames Sharp words and tender actions A gruff growl to stop her kicking Shoes taken off as gently as a slipper Mother, he spits but softer glances Her tremors encased in his calloused hands The cough racks through her question
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“Listening is talking for him; there’s an eloquence to this kind of attentiveness; it’s rare.” ― Abraham Verghese, The Covenant of Water All clinicians experience from time to time what we call the “difficult patient.” For just a moment, as you read those words, reflect on what arises within
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I looked at my patient’s wife this morning, crying, and felt I was witnessing a beautiful sadness. When the husband first came in with a stroke six weeks ago, I remembered the wife crying helplessly. Both of them, in their 80s, were very loving, and were termed “Romeo and
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Watching Noah Wyle on screen in an ER is like welcoming back an old friend, except now , it is not set in Cook county General Hospital, Chicago, but the “The Pitt” an emergency room in Pittsburgh Pennsylvania. He is now more jaded, and he has aged. As an Emergency Physician,
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Back in my day We did 36 hour shifts Came back the next morning Traced old notes, retrieved Survived 8 calls per month We did all the ECGs Had 40 patients to round Transcribed medication lists We pushed stainless steel trolleys piled up with patient files After ordering antibiotics We
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"Why did you call my brother to collect my discharge medication, instead of me?" From the inside of the pharmacy, I heard a loud voice hurling accusations at my colleague, who then approached me, the floor manager, to try to defuse the situation. I proceeded outside, unsure 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.
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