Category Archives: healing

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prayers for children

This is my daughter, five years ago, at Lake Matinenda in Ontario. I cried when I read about the baby thrown from the London fire.

Prayers for the children in the London fire and their parents and grandparents. Prayers for the refugee’s children, that they are not lost and drowned. Prayers for the Congresspeople shot yesterday and their families and friends.

Prayers for all the children in the world.

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tour group

I took this photograph sitting on the steps of the Renwick Gallery, finishing a cup of tea before I went in. I was back visiting my son and old friends in the Baltimore-Washington corridor.

They should rename it the Baltimore-Washington superhighway.

And is it a revelation that you see things like this in Washington, DC? It’s a pretty weird place.

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damage

This is not about one patient. It is about many. I have permission from the person I gave a copy to: one of many.

what do you say
to the person
with the terrible childhood
with addiction and chaos
and suicide attempts and hospitals
and that was the parents
that they ran away from

and then numbed themselves
in addiction for years
multidrug and chaos
and now stable
working their 12 steps

and grieving
their lost years
and their behavior
unforgiven, it takes time
to build trust after
thirty years of damage

and grieving
the next generation
following the same
path and feeling helpless
to stop them
and guilt for their
contribution

it is not a matter
of a pill
of a diagnosis

the simplicity of stopping
of getting clean
joy and pride
yes

and then the hard work
of grieving
begins

 

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I took the photograph at the Renwick Gallery.

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small mother

I was already a mother when I became a mother. Long before I had my son. I just didn’t know it.

I became a mother at three. My mother had tuberculosis when I was born. Luckily she coughed blood a month before, otherwise I would not be here. I was born in a tuberculosis sanatorium, the first baby there in 25 years. My mother said that the staff was hugely excited about a baby. She was drugged to the gills while reading about the French Revolution and hallucinated Marie-Antonette’s head on a pole and the guillotine. She joked that she could never read about the French Revolution again. I was born, she kissed me, and I was swept away so that I would not get tuberculosis.

I was with my father and father’s family and then with my maternal grandparents. I came home to my parents at nine months. Adults kept handing me to other adults. I concluded that they were loving but stupid and couldn’t be trusted for a moment.

My sister was born five days before I turned three. My mother said that I met guests at the door and said, “Come see my baby.” Mine, because these adults don’t understand the needs of a baby, and I want her to feel loved and safe. No one will give my baby away!

Later my mother would tell a story about my sister worrying about Kindergarten. My mother could not reassure her. Neither could my father. I spoke up: “All you learn is colors, numbers and ABC and you already know those. I taught you.” My mother claimed that my sister was instantly reassured. I don’t remember: these are my mother’s stories and she is gone. But I have collected mother daughter pictures and small statues, just a few, all my life. And I wanted to have children. I liked surgery and obstetrics, but I chose family medicine, because I want to have children and to see them and be a mother too.

Health and joy and safety and comfort to all mothers and fathers and children everywhere.

 

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xerotic

The letter X in Blogging from A to Z.

X for xerotic, which means x-rated erotic…

No, just kidding. Xerotic means very very dry skin or dry eyes and it’s a medical term. We do have xerosis as a medical term. As we get older our skin gets drier. One of my dermatologist friends says that we lose our bubble wrap: the layer of fat padding the skin thins until our hands bruise with normal daily activity.

Have you felt xerotic? This has been a long week in clinic and I am feeling tired and sad for some of my patients. My spring of ideas for healing is dry at the moment and I need to rest. I am going on a beach walk today. I need healing too, to be at an oasis, to be nurtured and cared for. Maybe xerotic is not used that way but it could be.

Two more letters and one more day.

I took the photograph on a hike at Joshua Tree in 2009.

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vulnerable

V is for vulnerable, in Virtues and views, Blogging from A to Z.

Is feeling vulnerable a virtue or a vice?

I don’t think feeling vulnerable is either a virtue or a vice. It’s a feeling. It is a feeling that our society puts pressure on adults, particularly males, not to feel. Or not to admit.

I read Robert Johnson, PhD, Owning our own shadow. He asks what three aspects of ourselves we are most proud of. For me, at that time, the triad was toughness, smarts and independent. He says that the opposite, or shadow, of that triad, is what we are most afraid of….

….oh, and he had me there. I look in my mirror and see someone smart, tough, independent, and terrified of being vulnerable.

I am much less terrified now. I am a physician: everyone is sick sometimes, vulnerable sometimes, everyone does dumb things sometimes, and dependence will come as well as death. I needed to bring that fear out of the shadow and make friends with it. Bringing those shadows forward is hard work! I don’t want to! But I can and I like to work and I am good at working. Small steps daily on a path with love and thought and care…..

Dictionary.com vulnerable

adjective

1. capable of or susceptible to being wounded or hurt, as by a weapon:
a vulnerable part of the body.

2. open to moral attack, criticism, temptation, etc.:
an argument vulnerable to refutation; He is vulnerable to bribery.

3. (of a place) open to assault; difficult to defend:
a vulnerable bridge.

4. Bridge. having won one of the games of a rubber.

So we ALL fall under the first definition! ALL OF US!

Our culture derides and conflates vulnerability with weakness sometimes. Don’t let it. Stand up. Speak out. Do not let fear stop us….