Growing up, any opportunity to eat out was truly a luxury. We just didn’t have the money for it. Occasionally on birthdays or a special trip, we would be treated with a big fish sandwich from Burger King, or my personal favorite, a $20 party tray…
As media coverage of the 50th anniversary of Woodstock shifted into high gear earlier this month, two articles in the “Arts and Medicine” section of JAMA called attention to another anniversary that transported me back in time. It has been …
Personal journal entry, September 11, 2017: Sometimes we wear womanhood like a yoke — burdensome on our shoulders, as we carry the torch for younger women coming behind. Sometimes, we swing womanhood as a sword, slicing, and jousting for survival in a …
We all expect hospitals to be open and operating when we need them, but extreme weather events like hurricanes are a strain on resources and pose significant challenges for hospitals. Closing a hospital is an extreme action, but several hospitals in Fl…
The attending physician looked concerned. My fellow medical student’s face was wet with tears. I knew the next words out of the attending’s mouth would be “Are you OK?” and indeed they were. I have encountered this phrase many times, almost exclusively…
When I walked into my first shift on labor and delivery as a brand new OB/GYN intern, complete with a freshly starched white coat, I was 33 weeks pregnant. As I listened to my chief resident effortlessly sign out the labor board, I was terrified. As th…
I yelled for the nurse as I wrapped my arms around Mr. John. He was suffering from a violent acute dystonic reaction from a dose of Haldol the night before. Severe muscle spasms overtook his entire body. I saw the whites of his eyes as his gaze shot to…
I was an intern, doing a rotation in the coronary care unit (CCU) of a large urban hospital. It was very challenging: The patients had complex medical issues, and my fellow residents and I were given lots of responsibility for their care. Still, I felt…
The money was so good in the beginning, and it seemed it might gush forever, right through tiny country hospitals in Missouri, Oklahoma, Tennessee and into the coffers of companies controlled by Jorge A. Perez, his family, and business partners. It was…
For more than 30 minutes, Robert Findley lay unconscious in the back of an ambulance next to Mercy Hospital Fort Scott on a frigid February morning with paramedics hand-pumping oxygen into his lungs. A helipad sat just across the icy parking lot from t…