Our hospitals aren’t built for “what will you do for me? Us? Same as politics –They’re stories from the same book — I remember smelling the hierarchy in the air within a week, and wanting to quit my job that first year. “Holly, you can’t quit now, give it three years,” said a New York, New York BF of mine — if we could even call him that — I stayed nine years and seven years respectively, with said men. Both men. We cannot deny Medicine lies in bed with the Man, after all.
A year and a bit ago, before packing my bags, I went on an interview with another NYC hospital.( to some this is repeated information) But what I did not tell you is, the women I sat across from in a windowless, cluttered, shoe box office with, told me to come back with “real questions.” I was taken aback at the time. Today, I laugh. They weren’t ready for me. As most our structures aren’t ready for us — to rip the band-aids off. Tear the statues down. Humans who finally have the heart to ask, “what have you got?” What will you do? How do you care? Tell me about your culture. Your values. Your leadership. No, they weren’t expecting me to pull an orange journal out of my bag filled with curiosity. My values. Agency.
Wahe Jio, I sit here on my front porch, in the middle of nothingness. With a life to be filled anew, with essentials, imagination, power(not one upMAN-ship) creativity. Relationship. Right relationship. With service — eyes reformed. There being no us and them, actually.
Just Love Actually. That is the Medicine.
Medicinal Conversations 