Attending Physician Contributing Author
University of California, San Francisco
Dr. Chase T. M. Anderson (but just call him Chase!) is currently a child and adolescent psychiatrist at The University of California, San Francisco, the Director for The Muses Program for Minoritized Youth, and graduated from adult psychiatry residency at The Massachusetts General Hospital/McLean Hospital and child and adolescent psychiatry fellowship at UCSF. He completed his undergraduate education in Chemistry at The Massachusetts Institute of Technology and his master's in Biological Engineering at MIT as well, and is a graduate of The Northwestern Feinberg School of Medicine.
Their writing has appeared in The New England Journal of Medicine, Nature Mental Health, NPR, Scientific American, in-House Magazine, WonderMind, STAT News, and other news and journal outlets. In their free time, he enjoys going for long walks, doing queer things, listening to K-pop, reading fantasy books, playing soccer, writing, planning dinners with friends, and dreaming of how we can better the world together.
“You could help us with our diversity efforts. If you came here, you could be a part of building up our diversity program.” Who said I wanted to help with your diversity efforts? Why hasn’t it been built up already?
In the pandemic’s wake, we witnessed the explosion of viral social media content such as Plandemic, an alternate exaggerated narrative which sought to perpetuate the types of claims one would expect from the title. These kinds of conspiracy theories have always existed in many different shapes and forms; however, COVID-19 struck at a time when society was suffering from a pre-existing condition of deep mistrust.
Recent events have highlighted a systemic problem within our world, our country, our state, and our community. People of color fight an uphill battle in every facet of life, at every socioeconomic level. The COVID-19 pandemic is no exception — as we all know by now, patients from lower socioeconomic backgrounds are disproportionately afflicted. But the spotlight has refocused on a chronic pandemic: systemic racism.
On June 1, I worked a shift in the trauma intensive care unit as riots and looting continued outside and the National Guard patrolled the streets. A group of nurses and I gathered around the police radio held up by two officers who accompanied a patient.
“Hello? Can you hear me?” Tightly holding the phone, I heard only an old man’s distant yelling and the shattering of dishes being thrown against the wall.
The pandemic points to an important lesson: a rejection of traditional leadership structures, at least those that feed into a profit-based medical system, may be necessary in order to create a different world. The union provides such a framework, vesting power in a collective of voices. But in order to succeed at the level of a union, physicians need to let their voices join that collective — they cannot expect a delegate or representative alone to do the entire job, just as we might expect a program director to guide us in the right direction.
I learned to trust my own discomfort as an indicator of the toxic power dynamics that breed abuse for both patients and health workers. I became even more attuned to the pitfalls of professionalism because of my membership in Put People First! PA (PPF-PA), a human rights organization made up of working-class people building power to win universal health care.
In the first two months of 2020, I watched with alarm as a cordon sanitaire descended on Wuhan. I lived there as an anthropologist completing my research on Chinese medicine in 2017. Friends from Wuhan — most of them doctors — were suddenly describing scenes out of a dystopian nightmare.
Has social distancing paradoxically made us closer? Can disease be tragically beautiful? I pondered these questions as I reminisced over the past few weeks working on one of the medicine floors in my hospital, grappling with these thoughts almost every moment as I have witnessed the world respond to the COVID-19 pandemic.
In medical school, I was taught to sit at eye level when speaking to patients, ask how they would prefer to be addressed, and ask open-ended questions to allow them to express themselves. I learned to interject with “That must be really difficult for you,” or “I can only imagine how that makes you feel,” as a way to show empathy and foster better connection with patients.
I was appointed to do the morning shift in the COVID ward of our respected hospital. The unit is a negative pressure area and, to us doctors, it is comforting as we embark on the Icarus flight.
I’m a soon-to-graduate allergy and immunology fellow and the circumstances surrounding the COVID-19 pandemic have catapulted every single physician into uncharted, and sometimes strange circumstances.
Fellow Physician Contributing Writer
Virginia Commonwealth University School of Medicine
After completing a pediatric residency, I've been enjoying fellowship in allergy and immunology at Virginia Commonwealth University. My main interests include primary immunodeficiency, severe asthma and food allergy. When I'm not in clinic, I enjoy cooking with my husband (usually while chasing our toddler around).
