FOR YOU

I hold my breath and click, “For You.”

The Photos app is my most visited app on my phone.

One tap and I transport to an icecream shop in Havana, Cuba with friends, feeling the warm breeze across my face in between bites of ice cream. I am back home in Oak Park, IL outside my childhood library taking college graduation photos with my mom and sister. Or I am in Tampa, Florida, watching my now not so little brother walking to the house after picking him up from rowing practice. In seconds I depart from current reality to relieve beautiful moments.

Sometimes “For You” is not as generous. I am reminded of times when I was unhappy, in sub-optimal health, anxious, or hurting. The return to reality can be a smooth trip of gratitude and joy, or more turbulent, filled with sadness for what my former self was dealing with at the time. I wrestled with a physical departure recently when my dad dropped me off at the airport after a quick trip to Florida to visit family. As I began to cry when I saw the “Departures” awning, he wrapped an arm around me, squeezed my shoulder and told me no matter how short the trip, he loves and appreciates spending time with me. That is a moment I will never forget.

As a medical student, I think of the uniqueness of patients’ arrivals and departures to and from the healthcare system. In this age, and in the health system I’ve had the privilege of training in, we often know so much about patients before we even lay eyes on them – medical histories, previous admissions, recent imaging, even the operative report of a surgery down to estimated blood loss. Instead of starting with an open-ended question such as, “What brings you in today?” or “How are you feeling?” we often start with, “I can see that you have [x] condition, and have experienced [x] symptoms, and have had [x] care so far, can you tell me more about that?”

What if less is more?

There have been moments where I have assumed because of a patient’s complex medical history, they have a solid understanding of their medical conditions. That is often not the case and as one my favorite comedians Yvonne Orji said, “Assumption is the lowest form of knowledge.”[1] I fondly remember answering my patient’s question about the difference between heart failure and advanced heart failure, moving my hands back and forth representing a pumping heart. His medical record may have been full of visits to cardiology clinic for the past 10 years, but taking the time to partner with him and provide continued education made his care patient centered.

I wonder if patients have a mental “For You” page when they’re getting ready to be discharged from the hospital. A reel of moments when they started to feel better, had a successful session with the physical therapist, were anxious waiting for test results, when an eager medical student shared the plan for the day, or when a loved one brought them homecooked food. I wonder if they transport to those moments as we explain discharge instructions. Departures from the healthcare system can feel momentous from the provider side—coordinating rehab, medication regimens, referrals, etc, but I can imagine it is even more momentous for patients. Healing often outside the healthcare system and the burden is on patients and their caregivers. I am amazed by the initiatives and providers in place to help make that transition smooth and will continue to advocate for longitudinal care.

This season has been brimming with arrivals and departures. This season is beautiful but also hard.

I had the privilege of attending the graduation of the class above me. I felt inspired by their accomplishments and confidence they exuded walking across stage in their regalia. A communication of a departure from status of medical student and an arrival to the beginning of the next chapter of their lives exchanged in a single embrace with loved ones.

Sometimes an arrival feels like a physical place. Like Ann Arbor, after 8 years being here. As friends from college have returned to Ann Arbor for graduate school, as I’ve deepened relationships with med school classmates, and as I’ve made new connections outside of school, I have cultivated a solid community.

Lately, an arrival has felt like a perspective on life. An acknowledgement that it’s okay to be sad things are changing and people leave, but I want to appreciate the season I am in. One of hope, determination, peace, and curiosity about who I am becoming each day. An arrival is leaning into what makes me happy. An arrival is looking at my Photos app and giving myself grace for the whirlwind of emotions that come with that. “For You” really is for me.

[1] Orji, Yvonne. (2021). Bamboozled By Jesus: How God Tricked Me into the Life of My Dreams. Worthy Books.