Separate and Together

By James Beckerman, M.D.

(Twitter format)

1/n Doctors are experts in building walls.

2/n We’re not trained to compartmentalize, but it happens with experience. I don’t know if any of us completely avoid it.

3/n We are active witnesses to death, tragedy, injustice, and inequity every day. This defines the social and biological construct we call disease, and our mission to change it defines us as physicians.

4/n But it hurts. And so we learn to pretend that we are somehow separate from it.

5/n We can even compartmentalize moments of joy, which is tragic. Because there’s always the next patient, the next moment to face without prejudice, with the illusion of a clean slate.

6/n I remember running a code on an older gentleman as a resident. He was intubated, compressed, shocked and lined by our team of twenty-somethings. He didn’t survive.

7/n Afterwards as I walked down the stairs toward noon conference, I realized I was hungry. My co-resident noted that it was pizza day. We high-fived.

8/n I immediately felt sick to my stomach. I was ashamed. Because I knew that I was changing. And because I believed that change was necessary to do this, to see this, to be this.

9/n It’s twenty years later. I’m 48. I’m a happy husband and proud dad. And I love being a doctor. But I always remember that day so many years ago. I want to undo it. I feel guilty about my weakness, my fake bravado that I mistook for strength.

10/n I wonder if I truly needed to build those walls. Sometimes building walls is easier, but that doesn’t make it right.

11/n People are understandably looking for something good to come out of this disaster. It’s hard to sometimes. Many physicians are too drained and wounded to even start that process.

12/n But I’ve had the privilege of having some time to reflect. And some time to really listen, more than I normally do. To my colleagues. And to my patients.

13/n One of the striking features of this pandemic is that we are all experiencing it together. Separately, but together. There’s an irony that the very act of creating distance is making us closer.

14/n I feel closer to my family. I feel closer to my partners. I feel closer to my community. I feel closer to every healthcare worker anywhere. And I feel closer to my patients.

15/n I share your fear. I share your vulnerability. And I also share your gratitude.

16/n A storm is here. And it isn’t going away anytime soon. But it’s washing some things away.

17/n Walls are becoming clearer. People are seeing each other. Sometimes through masks.

18/18 And sometimes through tears. Thanks to all the helpers, everywhere. We see you. All of you.

Jamie Beckerman, MD is a cardiologist in Portland, Oregon.