Poetry Monday

Saturday I had the pleasure of listening to Margaret Mohrmann give the keynote at the UVA’s End-of-Life conference. Blow. Me. Back. The weight of the subject matter and her nimble language. The stories steeped in years of experience ecclesiastical and medical. Is frank compassion a thing? I think it may be her thing. One of the two times she made me well up (for my patients, for my loved ones, for me, for my fellow RNs & MDs, for humanity):

A Blessing for a Friend on the Arrival of Illness
by John O’Donohue

Now is the time of dark invitation
beyond a frontier that you did not expect.
Abruptly your old life seems distant.
You barely noticed how each day opened
a path through fields never questioned
yet expected deep down to hold treasure.

Now your time on earth becomes full of threat.
Before your eyes your future shrinks.
You lived absorbed in the day to day so continuous
with everything around you that you could forget
you were separate.

Now this dark companion has come between you.
Distances have opened in your eyes.
You feel that against your will
A stranger has married your heart.
Nothing before has made you feel so isolated
and lost.

When the reverberations of shock subside in you,
may grace come to restore you to balance.
May it shape a new space in your heart
to embrace this illness as a teacher
who has come to open your life to new worlds.
May you find in yourself a courageous hospitality
towards what is difficult, painful and unknown.

May you use this illness as a lantern
to illuminate the new qualities that will emerge in you.
May your fragile harvesting of this slow light help you
release whatever has become false in you.
May you trust this light to clear a path
through all the fog of old unease and anxiety
until you feel a rising within you,
a tranquility profound enough to call the storm to stillness.

May you find the wisdom to listen to your illness,
ask it why it came,
why it chose your friendship,
where it wants to take you,
what it wants you to know,
what quality of space it wants to create in you,
what you need to learn to become more fully yourself,
that your presence may shine in the world.

May you keep faith with your body,
learning to see it as a holy sanctuary
which can bring this night wound
gradually towards the healing and freedom of dawn.

Global public health development goals: Paul Farmer on who lives and who dies.

Global public health development goals: Paul Farmer on who lives and who dies..

Economics should never have sought to divorce itself from the other social sciences and can advance only in conjunction with them. -Thomas Picketty

A day late for World Health Day. I hope my prof won’t mind if I share an article from this week’s readings. It’s going to be a task to disentangle the social injustice from the ethics of access from the rageifying post-colonialist cut-and-run, then weave in a thread of third world problems here in the US, but hey I’ll do my best to analyze coherently.

I can’t tell if the article is unwieldy or if it’s just my feelings on the subject. Either way a worthwhile read.

Cancer: The Emperor of All Maladies and My Cancer: The Wrecker of All Normalcy

Video: Cancer: The Emperor of All Maladies Trailer | Watch Cancer: The Emperor of All Maladies Online | PBS Video.

You’re all watching this, right? You’ve already watched it?

Good. I need to re-watch a time or two more before I give you my bullet points, but wow.

Hot off the press for my policy class about being a patient and looking at treatment options and statistics. No good choices yet.

The Fear & The Data

I’m the kind of patient who wants to, no insists, on knowing the numbers. When I was diagnosed with melanoma a little bit more than a year ago the sentence after “the tumor is malignant” was me asking “how deep.” I already had the tumor staging chart in front of me. That’s not true. It was dark, I was outside, and I had that thing memorized. My tumor was staged 2B, my stats are 60% survival at 5 years. I absolutely consent to a wide tumor excision and sentinel node excision. I am unable to undergo the recommended course of immunotherapy (12 month course) for adjuvant treatment that would have got me an additional 7% survival, due to my comorbid Lupus. I look for second and third and fourth opinions, and find a reputable oncologist with specific experience in my sub-type of melanoma who recommends adjuvant cutaneous radiation. The doc, my radiation oncologist, and I pull the best studies we can and make a good argument for radiation therapy in reducing recurrence of melanoma at the site (and more than 80% of melanomas of my subtype reoccur at the site) by 12-15%. SOLD! For $6,000 out-of-pocket, 6 weeks of my life, and 2 months of healing third degree burns and radiation toxicity. Steep. But fear is a powerful motivator. And fear of abandoning your young child? I mean I don’t have to tell you.

Would I have done the radiation for 5% reduced recurrence? I am aware that radiation can cause late malignancies. But REGRET. I could never forgive myself a lost chance to raise my child. Despite my lack of faith in integrity of studies in general, my non-surprise at aberrant results, and my belief that as a young person I may have more bounce back in me, I cling to the numbers with fear and with hope. Some people see themselves as the exception. I can’t help but see myself as the rule.