The Things That I Forgot
People seeking healthcare are incredible humans, as we all are.
The sun is on my left side for both dawn and dusk commutes.
There isn't enough time.
Hand sanitizer is sticky between hand washes.
Everyone is stressed, and either busy with a screen or with a patient.
Learners are some of the smartest, most caring, most attentive providers: residents, midwife students, and nursing students alike.
One person thinks the visit takes too long; the next person comments that it felt too quick.
Gay and trans people see us every day: we need to ensure that we see them (had I missed a usual question or two, I would never have known important facts about people. ask, because you care, and because you are providing care).
I really missed my coworkers. They're wonderful. (was moved to tears and wanted to just hug some people for very long periods of time. on day one back, the only one who made the time / found me when I could make the time was the head of high risk, and I really had to keep it together to not completely break down. how lucky am I?)
A five am daily wake-up is early.
I miss my family, all day, and any message from them lightens my load.
Double-booked appointments are an injustice to everyone involved, created by people who do not provide or receive regular healthcare.
Speculum exams cannot become routine, and deserve time and attention to be individualized (I never forgot this, just re-remembered).
Lunch may or may not happen, so bites to eat that don't require a refrigerator or a microwave are necessities.
Native Spanish speakers are so grateful to encounter someone with whom they can communicate. Whether it's the current climate or just humanity, it matters: the look on their face completely changes, to relief, to be able to communicate through their preferred language. Folx, learn Spanish, at a minimum.
My personal voicemail box is full. It has been for months. People keep reminding me. I'm leaving it that way, because a) I'm a millennial and that's how I feel and b) then they have to document what they need and there's a trail for me to follow/remember.
At home I can use the bathroom whenever I want. At work, no.
Free time doesn't exist anymore, because there are now always charts or labs or emails.
The people who come early are the same ones who stay late.
Empathy feels endless, until suddenly it plumb out.
If Title X regulations had taken effect in IL, I would have struggled to know how to provide options counseling legally in my setting.
I love being a midwife. Also, something needs to change. And it isn't the patients and it isn't the passion we bring to it. It is the power and the patriarchy and the racism and the capitalism and the expectations that lead to burnout (and the burnout) and the political interference and the quality of basic care and the white supremacy and the provider-administration dynamic and the support for students and the communication strategies and the setting choices and the collaborative practice models.
I did not forget. But now I remember. And I'm back, knowing there are a lot of other folks who acknowledge and fight for change. I, and we, are not alone. I'll keep writing to remind myself, and you.