To help a soul / To heal a wound / To hold a hand / To walk again
In order for the country to make meaningful progress in tackling the opioid epidemic, we need a cultural shift in the way patients and providers think about pain.
Pharmaceutical companies and physicians are being demonized for their manufacturing and dispensing of opioid analgesics. Money-hungry executives from Big Pharma caused the crisis by brainwashing doctors to prescribe these medications left and right. Greedy doctors want patients dependent upon them for years, ensuring a steady stream of paying patients in their waiting room. Drugs drive the market. Drugs lead to big profits for everyone involved. The more drugs, the better.
It seems that each week we learn of a new mass shooting. Gunfire from a legally-purchased AR-15 assault rifle hits innocent high school students, nightclub patrons, and mall-goers. A politician reassures the nation that our brave first responders are bringing the victims to a nearby hospital. The media’s report to the public generally ends, but when I hear “trauma team to ED STAT,” my work only just begins.
“How are you doing this morning, Mr. Tracy? Sorry we’re running late. You’ve been waiting an hour.”
Over the past 50 years, the demographics of medical school graduates in the United States has changed dramatically with the number of women (47%) almost equaling the number of men in 2014. However, the Association of American Medical Colleges reports that out of all the sub-specialties, orthopaedic surgery has the lowest proportion of female residents, instructors, assistant, associate, and full professors.
The unexpected suicide of a graduate of our surgical residency program — nearly seven years ago — still reverberates off the walls of Stanford Hospital. While he didn’t end his life on the premises (that happened during fellowship in another city), the effects of his tragic death subdue the residency to this day
It’s been about three years since Jacob committed suicide. In the high turnover microcosm of general surgery residency, there aren’t many who remember him.
His mother asks whether or not there will be a scar. I tell her yes. We’ll do our best to make it small, but there will be a scar.
From the moment I set foot in the hospital as an intern on June 24, 2016 at 4:55 a.m. to the present as I write this reflection, my life feels as though it were playing in fast forward. It is hard to believe Match Day was almost a year ago.
She was talking to another attending when I recognized her voice from around the corner. As a third-year medical student, I wanted to look busy, so I moved briskly, avoiding eye contact, trying to make it seem as if I were headed somewhere important.
Double-booking. Concurrent surgery. Procedural overlap. However it is named, the once clandestine practice is now under public scrutiny.
I didn’t know what it was, but it hurt — a subtle, gnawing soreness that I wouldn’t think about, but was never quite off my mind. Medical school had just started. I was beginning a new chapter in my life, and everything was good — everything except that unusual pain in my back.