Health Through Poetry

Melanie: Grandpa, you look charged with energy. Is it because you celebrated a 92nd birthday last week?

Grandpa: I believe in celebrating life by forgetting birthdays.

Melanie: Well, you must have asked my dad to write another haiku, because he read one at your party!

Grandpa: Fred’s Haiku was a poetic marvel. I continue to be astounded by his poetic ability. He is able to convey more meaning in three brief lines than most of us can in several pages of prose.

For Doctors, A Rose By Any Other Name Should ‘Not’ Smell As Sweet

Melanie: It sounds like you had an interesting visit with your doctor recently. The tables were turned and you became a patient experiencing our health care system. What happened, and why do I get the sense that you make a terrible patient?

Grandpa: Melanie, your judgment about the type of patient I am is off the mark. Indeed I visited an internist and former student who is currently among the most distinguished physicians working in a Boston hospital. One minute after I walked into his consulting room, I exclaimed, “You are running a poor practice.” He was taken aback.

Melanie: I imagine he would be! That sounds pretty harsh. What happened in the waiting room that led you to that conclusion?

Grandpa: When I arrived at his office, the young woman behind the desk greeted me and said, “The doctor will see you soon, Bernard.” Disconcerted at being addressed by my first name and not as Dr. Lown (which you may deem as overblown puffery), I was bothered by this unearned intimacy.

A Health Care Haiku

Melanie: Just so I’m clear, you asked my dad to write a haiku about our blog?

Grandpa: Yes I asked Fred. Perhaps it would not have happened except for the massive blizzard that buried Boston in snow some weeks ago. Your grandmother and I finally caved to your father’s insistence to stay in his apartment during the storm in case of a power outage. The next morning the sun’s light was brightened to a sharp iridescence by the  pristine whiteness blanketing everything. It was a moment inspiring poetry. As a former English teacher, your dad  has always been passionate about poetry and literature. We pleaded for  a lesson; it was the perfect place to be snowbound. Intrigued by the Japanese haiku, I asked Fred if he could write one capturing the essence of the conversation between his father and daughter. Instead of dismissing the absurdity of this request, he responded that it was worth a try.

Melanie: That explains it! I love that we are engaging three generations on our blog. Here it is, a haiku by Fred Lown:

Tender Hearts

Time borrows our hearts,
lending us the compassion
to hear hummingbirds.

 

 Copyright © 2012 The Lown Conversation

That ‘High’ Feeling Patients Get from Positive Doctors

Melanie: In our last post, we talked about your experience with words that literally turned a patient’s health around. I know doctors can make patients feel better by sounding positive, but the encounter you described must be rare. What about cardiac patients who live with severe anxiety?

Grandpa: Our medicalizing culture amplifies such anxiety. Uncertainty about personal health is unrelenting, from the young and healthy to the ailing elderly. I believe I already told you this, but it’s worth repeating. The great American essayist, Norman Cousins, wrote, “Americans believe they will live forever until they get a cold. Then they are convinced they will be dead within the hour.” It’s an exaggeration that exposes an ugly truth.

Melanie: My point is that it seems harder to conjure up magical words that can heal, or even stay positive for patients with chronic heart disease. What can you say to help ease their anxiety?

The Roots of ‘Medical Bullying’

Melanie: I can understand if doctors use medical jargon that patients may misinterpret. But why describe the most terrifying possible scenarios if they’re unlikely to happen? It almost seems like medical bullying.

Grandpa: I wouldn’t describe it as bullying. Like any widespread social practice, the use of words that maim has several explanations. We live in uneasy times. Life is packed with threats, such as an onrushing climate catastrophe, or terrorism everywhere you look. The doctor is part of our culture wherein doom forecasting is within the social marrow. Even the daily weather is often reported with anxiety provoking rhetoric. To be heard, one learns the need to be strident, equally true for weather predictions as for medical prognostications. The end result is that doctors justify their ill doing by their well meaning.

Melanie: But doctors take an oath to heal the sick (in theory). Shouldn’t they exercise professional judgment as opposed to following the herd? Oath or no oath, it seems like a no-brainer to avoid using expressions like, “You’re a walking time bomb.”

Grandpa: I admire your passion. It’s not too late to pursue a medical career.