Cell 2 Soul: The Humane Health Care Blog

Marginal Notes: Traditional publishing? Perish the thought

When the news came that John Brown was about to be executed for his seditious raid on the federal garrison at Harper’s Ferry, Henry David Thoreau rang the village bell in Concord, Massachusetts, to call his townsmen together.  When a neighbor asked him what prompted this action, Thoreau replied:  “I have something to say.”

 

Throughout human history, many of us have had something to say.  The problem was that, up until fairly recently, there was no venue readily available for the dissemination of the thoughts and ideas of the common person.  That, of course, was before the Internet exploded upon the scene.

 

Read more about how the Internet is changing the face of traditional publishing in the latest edition of Marginal Notes.

 

Brian T. Maurer has practiced pediatrics as a Physician Assistant for thirty years.  His "Marginal Notes" column appears periodically in the Cell2Soul Blog.  The title "Marginal Notes" is taken from a quote by Henry David Thoreau:  "I love a broad margin to my life." 

 

A Polio Vignette

"Polio may seem like a distant memory. But thousands of people still live with the effects of the disease every day. And many are only in their 60s."  Barron Lerner has a moving essay in the January 27, 2009 New York Times about Sharon Stern who, in 1954, at age 9, developed the dreaded “summer plague.”  Stern has not had the use of her arms or legs since and need assistance for every breath.

This remarkable story about a woman with a full life in spite of almost unimaginable handicaps is worth reading in a quiet moment.  Ms. Stern is a poet, and we will try to find some of her poetry to post on Cell 2 Soul.  Her book is called Armature -- but I have not found a source yet.

See: A Life Changed but Not Destroyed by Polio

Focus on Zimbabwe

"With their nation in a prolonged sequence of crises, more unaccompanied children and women than ever are joining the rush of desperate Zimbabweans  [trying] to escape a broken country where half the people are going hungry, most schools and hospitals are closed or dysfunctional and a cholera epidemic has taken a toll in the thousands. Yet they are arriving in a place where they are unwelcome and are resented as rivals for jobs. Last year, Zimbabweans were part of the quarry in a spate of mob attacks against foreigners."

As we focus on Caroline Kennedy's senate seat defection in NY and the the latest news about Branjolie, we need to remember that there are dark places beyond our purview where tragedy is continuing to unfold.

See the recent NY Times article: "Desperate Children Flee Zim, for Lives Just a Desolate." 

C2S's Zim correspondent, Kuda Mutyambizi, recently sent us this posting: 

"Zimbabwe Beat:  Cholera Outbreak. Despite its current tribulations, Zimbabwe’s greatest treasure remains its people.  The people on the ground, both local and those who have been inspired from a distance to come and join in the fight for life and dignity, refuse to give up..."  She urges us to "be a voice against injustice, in all its forms, at home and abroad. We may be many miles away from Zimbabwe, and other places where there is considerable suffering, but we are made complicit by our silence and humane by our action."  See Kuda's full letter at: Download Kuda Letter

In her letter, Kuda has suggestions on how one can help Zimbabwe and its people.

Marginal Notes: What can we learn from the humanities?

Over the course of my career as a clinician, I have advocated for the humanities in medicine.  I reasoned that exposure to the medical humanities would serve to cultivate and enhance empathetic understanding on the part of the clinician toward the patient.  This could only lead to the delivery of more humane medical care.

Yet if we are to believe the recent musings of Professor Stanley Fish, all these years I may have been just whistling in the dark.

Here are some thoughts on what we can learn from the humanities.

Brian T. Maurer has practiced pediatrics as a Physician Assistant for thirty years.  His "Marginal Notes" column appears periodically in the Cell2Soul Blog.  The title "Marginal Notes" is taken from a quote by Henry David Thoreau:  "I love a broad margin to my life." 

Dark Side of Paradise

 I remember a day in the winter of 1975 when I had an office in Koloa Town on Kauai's South Side.  I was in the habit of driving the two miles to the Waiohai break and surfing over my lunch hour.  A newcomer to the Islands, I was an awkward, skinny improbable surfer and a malihini, to boot.  My presence must have been offensive to the home-grown wave riders.

One day, a local Portagee, David C., paddled over to me and started shaking his fist and yelling, "F**king Haloe -- Wot you doin hea!  Get out of da wata." I ignored him and kept my distance.

Later that day, back at the office, I entered the exam room of a walk-in patient with a laceration that needed suturing.  It was the same David C!  "You da dokta??" he said with real chagrin.  It was quite a monent.  I sutured the wound, and  from then on I was welcomed, indeed feted, at the Waiohai break.  My "surfing" was never adept, but my pesence was tolerated.

Thus, it was with interest that I read Rough Waves, Tougher Beaches in the New York Times this week. There's lots of material about Obama and Aloha in the press these days.  But, there is a dark side to Paradise too.  Making darkness visible, as this article does, adds depth and interest to the story.

Eh brah...  No miss da video: "Surfing's Dark Side on the North Shore."

Dark Red Stains by Rasidat Adeduntan

Originally from Athens, GA, Rasidat Adeduntan is a junior at Stanford University majoring in Human Biology. With plans to attend medical school, her goal is to become a pediatrician and work with underserved communities both in the US and abroad. This poem was inspired by one of her Human Biology courses "Health as seen through Medical History, Literature, and the Arts."  Her professor, Larry Zaroff suggested she submit this work to Cell 2 Soul.

Dark Red Stains describes the bittersweet feelings of a girl as she enters womanhood and subsequently motherhood. The dark red stains she experiences as a child will eventually cause pain and sorrow upon the fetal death of her child.  This is written from the point of view of both a teenager and an adult and explores two of the most important events of being a woman.

This poem begins with these lines:

Age Twelve

I am now a woman
So I’m told by my mother
After months of anticipation
The dark red stains are indication
Of my admittance into womanhood
An elite club
This sweet club
Where membership is selective

To read the complete poem see:  Download Dark Red Stains

You may contact Ms. Adeduntan at:  Email

Not Yet by Christopher Woods

I created this piece after being diagnosed with cancer.  Several operations later, I am now receiving chemotherapy. My prognosis is good. "Not Yet" was my own way of confronting my cancer.  In a creative way, I wanted to blend hope with defiance. Interestingly enough, I have been more creative than usual during this current illness. Apparently, the inner spirit sings its own tune, no matter the physical situation. Email Chris Woods

Marginal Notes: Our Daily Work

 

If there is a certain humility in serving, there are also untold rewards in our daily work.   Alberto Cairo traded a career in law for the opportunity to serve the poor, the maimed and the hopeless in Afghanistan. 

"What I'm doing here is so rewarding," he said.  "For me, it's perfect.  I feel I have been very, very lucky."

You can read more about Mr. Cairo's vocation with additional commentary by Sir William Osler in Brian Maurer's latest essay Our Daily Work.

 

Brian T. Maurer has practiced pediatrics as a Physician Assistant for thirty years. His "Marginal Notes" column appears periodically in the Cell2Soul Blog. The title "Marginal Notes" is taken from a quote by Henry David Thoreau:  "I love a broad margin to my life."

Marginal Notes: Synesthesia

Imagine hearing a color or smelling a sound. What if numbers had texture that you could see, or hours were visualized as the time it took to bake a loaf of bread?

Neuroscientists group these phenomena together under the umbrella of synesthesia,  an unusual mixing of the senses in which a stimulus in one sensory modality (for example, a sound) elicits perception in another modality (e.g., a color).

Interested readers are invited to peruse Brian Maurer's latest Marginal Note at: Wired to hear colors and smell sounds.

Medicine's Murky Frontiers

Almost anything the investigative reporter Barry Meier writes is worth reading.  His book, Pain Killer, which we reviewed in Cell 2 Soul in 2005, is a brilliant expose of Oxycontin and the company that hawked it to an unsuspecting public.

Mr. Meier's recent articles in the NY Times about a new device which may prevent stroke in people less than 55 years old should be read by all since it gives insight into the medical device industry and the murkiness of science.  Reading between the lines, I'd suspect that Mr. Meier's next book may be about such devices as there are a number of them being used without sufficient proof at great financial, and sometimes human, cost.

A Device to Avert Stroke Lacks Proof that it Works

"Every year, experts estimate, about 80,000 seemingly healthy people in this country under the age of 55 have a stroke for no apparent reason. Some researchers have long suspected that one culprit is a cardiac defect that 40 percent of those people share — a tiny congenital opening between the upper chambers of their hearts

Based on that theory, doctors in recent years have implanted a small flexible seal in the hearts of thousands of stroke patients. The idea is that closing the hole will prevent future strokes by blocking a pathway for blood clots."

 

Full article.

In a companion piece, Mr. Meier reports on a lawsuit brougt by this device maker agains a British researcher who claimed online that the device is flawed.  Meier does a fine job of reporting the shades of gray. Also see: Device Maker Sues Doctor Who Called Its Product Flawed.