Laura - every one of your pieces reminds me just a bit more how essential humanity is in my practice of medicine, and every week, I share the lessons I am learning from you via the internet with my colleagues, whether they know it or not. Thanks, on behalf of all of us.
So beautiful. It makes me think of the word "sonder" which I recently learned means the realization that each passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own. (Thanks too, to Nora McInerny and her It's Going to Be Okay podcast.)
Many blessings to you. I get this completely. Same for my son, name and birthday constantly. His regular doctors and surgeon and cardiologist started calling him by his nickname and it meant everything to us.
Wonderfully said, and so true. Equally poignant for me is the way that very often, name-and-birthdate are all that is left of us, decades or even centuries later, on some meaningless paperwork of that time -- and a lot of what I do is simply trying to relearn who the people behind those echoes of a name, were. It's fascinating to be reminded that that's not a pursuit limited to the past... but is present in this moment too.
As my husband is going through cancer treatment, name and birthdate have become familiar. We were in Houston this past week at MD Anderson. Did you know there are 20 buildings (BIG buildings) that comprise the MD Anderson complex? After our appointment we were waiting for the shuttle service outside the main building. As I watched people come and go, I thought about each person who walked in or out of just that one building, that their story is in some ways the same, yet different. And the one thing that distinguishes all of us is name and birthdate.
Wow. I’m very near speechless. But I shall try to articulate, medical ptsd notwithstanding.
I’m a Midwest-American who moved to Western Canada three months pregnant with my second. When you address the receptionist, I see her, the one with platinum almost-Mohawk hair. And the other woman beside her, Rosie. They nearly broke me with their contempt when I had not brought my medical records with me. They wouldn’t believe me, my word, my story, my knowledge of the son in my belly.
Nameandbirthdate. They don’t have the same order of month/day/year, so providing even these simple facts of myself was a constant challenge.
I could tell more stories, of course. I will only add that I share my birthday with my firstborn, whom I miscarried on my 21st birthday.
I’m saving this post to help me articulate my stories as I can.
Poignant and beautiful piece. My favorite passage:”More than our disease or disability or diagnosis. But fears fade into the background of workaday routines, 9-to-5, clock-in and clock-out, height and weight, blood pressure and temperature, name and birthdate. We want to be seen, not simply heard. We long to be known, not just named”
This is absolutely beautiful. A piece that should be read by customer service across the board.
Laura - every one of your pieces reminds me just a bit more how essential humanity is in my practice of medicine, and every week, I share the lessons I am learning from you via the internet with my colleagues, whether they know it or not. Thanks, on behalf of all of us.
So beautiful. It makes me think of the word "sonder" which I recently learned means the realization that each passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own. (Thanks too, to Nora McInerny and her It's Going to Be Okay podcast.)
Held my breath this while reading. Thank you. Will not be looking the same in the waiting room again.
Many blessings to you. I get this completely. Same for my son, name and birthday constantly. His regular doctors and surgeon and cardiologist started calling him by his nickname and it meant everything to us.
And l have passed this on to my daughter who is in nursing school at UVA, with instructions to pass it on to all of her classmates. 💕
Wonderfully said, and so true. Equally poignant for me is the way that very often, name-and-birthdate are all that is left of us, decades or even centuries later, on some meaningless paperwork of that time -- and a lot of what I do is simply trying to relearn who the people behind those echoes of a name, were. It's fascinating to be reminded that that's not a pursuit limited to the past... but is present in this moment too.
gorgeous writing as always. and such a good reminder for me, as a bedside nurse. thank you 💛
As my husband is going through cancer treatment, name and birthdate have become familiar. We were in Houston this past week at MD Anderson. Did you know there are 20 buildings (BIG buildings) that comprise the MD Anderson complex? After our appointment we were waiting for the shuttle service outside the main building. As I watched people come and go, I thought about each person who walked in or out of just that one building, that their story is in some ways the same, yet different. And the one thing that distinguishes all of us is name and birthdate.
Beautiful words written once again.
Oh Laura, this is exquisitely beautiful. It took my breath away.
Such a beautiful moving piece.
Gorgeous piece of writing that.
Wow. I’m very near speechless. But I shall try to articulate, medical ptsd notwithstanding.
I’m a Midwest-American who moved to Western Canada three months pregnant with my second. When you address the receptionist, I see her, the one with platinum almost-Mohawk hair. And the other woman beside her, Rosie. They nearly broke me with their contempt when I had not brought my medical records with me. They wouldn’t believe me, my word, my story, my knowledge of the son in my belly.
Nameandbirthdate. They don’t have the same order of month/day/year, so providing even these simple facts of myself was a constant challenge.
I could tell more stories, of course. I will only add that I share my birthday with my firstborn, whom I miscarried on my 21st birthday.
I’m saving this post to help me articulate my stories as I can.
Thank you, thank you, thank you.
Wow this is so so beautiful 💛 we all need to be reminded that every person we come across has a story!
Poignant and beautiful piece. My favorite passage:”More than our disease or disability or diagnosis. But fears fade into the background of workaday routines, 9-to-5, clock-in and clock-out, height and weight, blood pressure and temperature, name and birthdate. We want to be seen, not simply heard. We long to be known, not just named”
This is so good. "Do you want to hear a story instead?" <3