I’m a proud member of our hospital’s Jewish All-Star team, which means I work every Christmas. One great thing about working Christmas is the hospital is never full. No one wants to be hospitalized on Christmas. If patients can go home, they do, someti…
Health care workers’ lives are not expendable. Yet, we are being asked to battle a microscopic enemy with disgracefully inadequate personal protective equipment (PPE). We know that using PAPRs (powered air-purifying respirators) would be the best…
Health care workers will face some very difficult decisions in the days ahead. The decision: Am I willing to take care of coronavirus patients without proper protection? This is a very personal dilemma. Everyone who goes into any part of medicine is t…
In February, I had my first patient ask about my thoughts on the coronavirus. At that time, I was aware of the coronavirus and cautiously optimistic about the situation. My advice to the patient was to have a healthy level of concern about the virus, g…
One week ago, a mere glance at my phone between patients would have sufficiently caught me up on 30 minutes of disconnect from both social and mainstream media. Today, as I closed one virtual appointment and waited for my 9 o’clock follow-up to join me…
In 2009, when more than $35 billion was invested in expanding national electronic health record (EHR) uptake, one of many advantages touted was its value as a tool for managing population health. This promise has failed to materialize due to a chaotic …
Charles looks older than his sixty-one years; he is very thin and quite stooped, and his eyes are what I guess are described as “lazy.” One goes one way, and one another. He is badly in need of dental work. He has emphysema, though he conti…
I am a physician, and I am not isolating. Like the Vietnam War defined my parents’ generation and World War 2 defined the generation before that, the COVID-19 pandemic will likely define mine. My father and grandfathers went to battle – I am now call…
A few days ago, a good friend revived an email thread that routinely circulated among our social cohort of 17 aspiring doctors during our final two years of medical school. The subject line read: qThurs HH. Translation: happy hour every Thursday. Back …
The summer of 1979 is permanently etched into my memory. I walked into the intensive care unit as a newly minted intern. I walked over to ICU-Bed 1 to be introduced to my first patient, a frail teenaged boy who was tethered to a ventilator. “He is day …
