diversity essay

….despite my recent cynicism I managed to put it aside so that I finally live the dream and become a poster child for WF.    This is going on the medical school’s diversity materials and recruitment materials.

“This is an example of a potentially poor outcome.” the nurse told me matter-of-factly. I look down and see tiny hands grasping mine and bright eyes exploring my face.  My medical training registers the curl of his fingers, the shape of his eyes and the dimple over his lip that defines his diagnosis. But I don’t see a poor outcome. I see a child. I also see myself.  25 years ago I was the baby in the nursery who was thought to be a poor outcome.  I have a disability that stems from a genetic bone disease that I was born with.  I am a patient and a student doctor. My disability was my first attending and it is my constant board exam. It has taught me compassion, humility and grace throughout my life and even more so in medical school.

Just like my classmates:  I take call, I write notes, I learn how to do procedures, I deliver babies and I rotate through all the required specialties.  I do this by using a manual wheelchair to round, an amplified stethoscope to auscultate and a stool to suture or assist in the OR.  Unlike most of my colleagues I can sit down next to my anxious or weeping patient and relate to what its like: to undergo anesthesia , or receive bad news from their doctor or go through rehab after a trauma or a major surgical procedure or even be denied health insurance.

I have never had a patient who didn’t want me to be a part of their care because of my disability but I have had many thank me for sharing my own struggles and stories. I have occasionally encountered an attending or a colleague who was skeptical. But in the end in nearly every situation by the end of the rotation I found that we have learned from each other’s perspectives and become better physicians.

As a patient, as a disabled individual I am a member of one of the largest, most underserved minority groups.   The disabled community makes up 11% of the US population but less than 1% of medical school graduates. I am grateful to Wake Forest for catching the vision and realizing that physicians with disabilities have something not just to learn but also to teach.   I believe my patients are grateful too.  They know that I provide excellent care. They also know most of all that I do not see the labels of illness or disability or poor outcomes, I see them first and foremost as human beings like myself.

Dr. B wants me to write a reflection about my experience as a disabled physician for the new “Inclusion and Diversity” page.

He introduced me today as an important part of diversity at Wake Forest and a national advocate for medical education for the disabled.

awesome.

last week we decided that there should never be another me but this week we love me…….

in summary our current disability policy is biopolar.

the toughest woman I know

We had a patient today whose mother was terrified of letting her son with acondroplasia sit or push push toys.  It was out of control. We had another patient whose family refused to encourage him to do the necessary rehab so he can get better. My attending came out of the second room and said the following: “Amy, your Mom was a toughass.“  After I nearly died laughing, I agreed with him.  My Mom is a rockstar. NO really she is.  In that moment he was implying that I never ran the show, my Mother always gently although forcibly made sure I did what I had do rehab wise. But she also let me be a kid.  He proceeded to talk about her for a little while. She was the standard this afternoon for good parenting.

And really if I am half the parent she is one day, I will be happy with myself. Not only did she raise me to be a self sufficient, miraculously tall and unusually driven (possibly to the point of insanity) dwarf/gimp, she raised two other remarkable young women. She cared for us, she disciplined us, she loved us,  she prayed for us. and she fought for us!

Mom rocks my world.

Happy 50th Birthday Mom!

Surprising Beauty

Is something beautiful because you love it or do you love it because its beautiful?? I don’t know. But if I did I could explain why I love Bucharest.  Bucharest at first glance is a filthy, graffiti covered city made up of endless gray communist bloc apartments for as far as the eye can see. Beggars on every corner (although this is improving), stray dogs in every doorway. But if you look twice you will be surprised by the wildflowers that grow everywhere, the old trees spread throughout the city, the gardens in each balcony and each little yard, the children running down the wide sidewalks and colors of clothes on the line, bright curtains, ads that mask the gray. I love this city.

Maybe its because I love its people. I love to sit on the bus or the tram or the metro and watch people. Romanians are proud and always dress up to go outside their house. They are fiercely protective of their children (yes a bit ironic) and although they don’t smile enough for my liking at times when they engage you they are warm and will probably invite you to dinner.

Maybe its because I love the children. I am back at the baby hospital again this time. I could spend all my time there and be perfectly happy. These children resilience, their beauty, their capacity for love when they have not been loved has always given me a window to the divine yet also of the silence desperation of the orphans.  I thought it would be harder being close to the end of my training but its better somehow. Even though I at times know the grim statistics these kids face, I also know of their potential first hand. I cling to that at times because I believe they cling to it too. They know what they want beauty and love over despair.

Perhaps its because I am an American and optimist that I see such beauty in the mist of such drabness and pain. I probably sound hopelessly naive but I am not as much it may seem. I know the dark side I am just surprised that there can be such dichotomy.

I hate to admit this but I need Romania far more than Romania needs me. This place has always been a place of such spiritual and emotional renewal for me. I think its how simply I live when I here.

Boards OVER.

Leaving Roanoke in less than 24 hours to drive to Dulles to fly to EUROPE.

Leave for Romania from Spain in T minus 11 days!!!!

so happy right now.

New photo site for the year of insanity:

http://amyadventuresabroad.shutterfly.com/