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"In order to move on, you must understand how you felt, and why you felt it." Mitch Albom
“Now that I am in my third year of medical school, I have started to see how health care disparities can have significant impacts on the management and prevention of disease. It is my hope that as the culture of medicine changes ever so slowly more physicians will be aware of the disparities and develop cultural humility to better serve their patient populations.”
An article on health disparities in medicine, by Stephanie Dreikorn at University of California, Riverside School of Medicine
““You don’t need water to feel like you’re drowning, do you?””
— Jodi Picoult (via naturaekos)
“Wanting to be someone else is a waste of the person you are.”
— Kurt Cobain (via goodreadss)
“Once, there stood a tree by the road. High… proud… strong. It stood away from everyone, doing neither good nor harm to anyone. It had never loved anyone, nor had it ever flowered. It was dependent on no-one, and no-one was dependent on it. The tree knew how to keep everyone at bay. The forest, the field… and the road with all its travelers. And it had always been like this. “Say, tree… are you alone here?” asked the cat. “Completely alone,” answered the tree indifferently. “And you are not lonely?” “Not lonely at all,” rustled the tree just as indifferently. “And you never experience sadness, fear or loneliness?” “Never” “I don’t wait for anyone. I don’t need anyone.” “Ah…” said the cat, “how I wish to be independent, live alone, and not grieve for anyone.” “Well now,” said the tree with dignity, “this is not too hard to learn.” “Live with me, observe…” “and when you learn, you will leave and be able to live alone.” “Thank you,” said the cat, and she stayed there. “Where are you going?” moaned the tree. “Goodbye! Now I can live alone,” answered the cat. “Don’t go! You have taught me a lot.” “Stay…” And that is the whole story about the tree. Or rather, about the tree and the cat. Because if not for the cat, the tree would not have had a story to tell.”
— The Tree and the Cat, Written by I. GLEBOVA, Director EVGENII SIVOKON. (via amargedom)
Most of the loud, articulate and visible people in the mental illness related communities are people who could, admittedly with outdated terminology, be considered "high functioning."
This makes sense, considering that it takes a certain level of ability and energy to get properly involved in activism of any kind. But here's a reminder not to forget and exclude the rest of us.
Don't forget about the people with cognitive impairments and intellectual disabilities and learning difficulties and don't alienate them by insisting that "just because we're mentally ill doesn't mean we're not intelligent."
Don't forget about the people in institutions like group homes and psych wards and don't alienate them by talking about how "mental illness doesn't mean you have to be locked up in an institution."
Don't forget about the people who are unemployed and/or uneducated and are forced to rely economically on welfare or their loved ones and don't alienate them by saying things like "mental illness should not affect your ability to provide for yourself."
Don't forget about all the people with chronic illnesses and all the people who are treatment resistant and don't alienate them by saying that a full recovery is always inevitable and realistic.
Don't forget about the people who are visibly mentally ill and who can't ever pass as neurotypical and don't alienate them by saying things like "mentally ill people are always just like everyone else."
Every mentally ill person struggles in different ways and I don't mean to invalidate anyone, but I am tired of seeing the more functional people throw less functional people under the bus in the name of activism and reducing stigma.
TO ME IT WAS LIKE COMING UP FOR FRESH WATER--I WAS DROWNING AND THEN I COULD BREATH!!!
{HOLLYWOOD}
A long time ago before I studied medicine, before even biomedicine, I used to volunteer in hospital. It was scary at first; most teenagers are out there having a life, meanwhile you’re wandering around on wards. At first, I was worried I would get in the way. I mean, important stuff happens in hospital, right? There are lots of busy doctors and nurses rushing around and doing important things. Things that actually matter to patient care. I didn’t want to get in their way. I was even worried I’d trip up an important cable or get in the way of a ward round or something! As volunteers we could do all sorts of little jobs that other people weren’t being paid to do. We would go around with the library trolley or shop trolley. Or help re-stock gloves, hand gel and things like that on the wards. We directed lost visitors around the site. We helped with lunches. If you were unlucky, you’d be asked to do something less exciting like stuff envelopes. But sometimes, after a tiring week of revision, it was actually a nice break. I challenged myself to be as efficient at the repetitive tasks as I could be; they usually ran out of tasks sooner than expected! Pretty often, we got to chat with patients, which I really enjoyed. I got to know a lot of the ward sisters, and all the staff were really welcoming and pleasant. I had little interaction with the doctors, though they were always polite and friendly when I was selling the poor juniors snacks from the shop trolley, which must have been a lifesaver in itself! I didn’t interact with the medical students. It never occurred to me to ask them questions about medicine; the mere thought of approaching anybody who was somebody was terrifying. I didn’t think what I did was meaningless, but I did feel it wasn’t that special. It was just all I could do at the time. And that was enough for me. When I was a student, I still felt like an outsider in hospital. It takes all your guts to wander into a strange ward or an operating theatre armed with nothing more than your ID badge and a clinical handbook of medicine, and say ‘I’m… I’m the medical student?’ when they ask you who you are. To which they usually reply ‘Eh? I thought they were coming next week…’. I can’t count the number of times I uttered the words ‘I’m just a medical student’. Because I couldn’t diagnose or treat or prescribe, it was easy to sometimes feel that whilst we were learning, we weren’t really doing anything to help. I remember our doctor tutors frequently telling us ‘you’re not just a medical student.’. It was pretty nice that they cared, but it didn’t stop us apologising constantly. It’s not that easy to change how you feel, after all. At some point, I resolved to stop using those words. And if I remember correctly, I mostly succeeded. But I only really gave them up when I had to: when those things actually became my job. The further along we got, the more we wanted to learn how to do everything, and the more we devoted ourselves to mopping up any jobs we could help with. I loved to devote time to talking to patients; I couldn’t ‘clerk’ as a student without being drawn into long rambling conversations. I didn’t feel as invisible as when I was a volunteer, but you feel so constrained by what you can’t do that it’s still easy to overlook what you can. Especially when you first start on the wards. But now, as a doctor, I can really appreciate that what I did back then wasn’t really insignificant at all. Not by a long shot. Because now, more than ever, I have to rely on every other person to do all the things I can’t do. Back when I was doing these things, I thought they weren’t that important because anyone can do them. Now I realise that although anyone can do them, most people in hospital can’t. Because there are so many other things that need doing. So many. When there aren’t gloves anywhere, and there is no hand gel in any of the dispensers, it makes doing my job safely that little bit harder. When the proformas aren’t in place or cupboards aren’t stocked or the ward is a mess, life is a little harder. When the OR isn’t cleaned, it takes longer for the next operation to happen. When my patients are lonely, it makes their stay in hospital more painful than it should be. When there’s nobody there who can do bloods or a cannula or even just fill out some blood forms, we can become swamped in lots of little tasks. Add all these little things up, and you’ve got some pretty stressed doctors and nurses! To anybody out there who feels insignificant because they’re ‘just’ helping with the little tasks; thank you. We couldn’t do it without you.