Fear is a liar.

Me: "So wait. I'm making sure I hear you correctly. You said this first started when?"
Her: "Like two and a half years ago."

*silence*

Her: "I know. I know I should've come before now. I know. "
Me: *silence*
Her: "You are probably thinking I'm crazy."
Me: "I didn't say that."
Her: "You didn't have to."

*silence*

Her: "I was just . . .I was just so, so. . . ." *starts crying*
Me: "Afraid?"
Her: *crying and nodding*
Me: "It's okay. You're here now."
Her: "I've been scared every day. And I would want to come but then I would just get too scared of some bad news."
Me: "I get it. I'm serious. I do."
Her: "You do?"
Me: "We all scared of something."

*silence*

Her: "What are you scared of?"
Me: "The same things you scared of, I think. Something bad. Something taking me from my family. Something that make it where I can't do what I want to do in my life."
Her: *staring*
Me: "Or rather what I feel like I'm supposed to do."

*silence*

Her: "Can I ask you a question?"
Me: "Sure."
Her: "Do you think I'm gonna be okay?"
Me: "I think anything is better than living every day in fear. So yeah. I think today you are more okay than yesterday. And that's a good thing."
Her: *starts crying again*

*silence*

Her: "I'm so relieved. To tell somebody. To get this weight off my chest."
Me: "And I'm happy that you are here and that we are sitting here together."
Her: *smiles*
Me: *smiles back*

I remember a few years ago when I had a health scare. I had something happening in my body that didn't seem right. I worried for two full weeks. When I finally told Harry I was crying before I could even explain. Man. I was so scared when I finally went to get it checked out.

Whew.

And no--I didn't wait two and a half years but even in those two and a half minutes that passed between the doctor looking at my results and telling me what could have been life-altering information, I fully understood how she felt.

Damn, I did.

Look, man. Fear can present itself in all kinds of ways. Sometimes it marches in like a King Kong with big muscles and gnashing teeth. Other times it's a smooth operator and completely in disguise. And the only things to take it down are love and truth. And today they both showed up like a badass tag team.

Sure did.

I love it when fear loses. And today it did.

Hell yeah.

***
#amazinggrady #fearisaliar #getitchecked #maketheappt #knowingisbetterthanworrying #loveisthewhat #andfearisapunkassbeeyotch

Squeaks and Squawks.

Him: "Them shoes you wearing is some a your favorite shoes?"
Me: *looking down* "My shoes?"
Him: "Yeah. Your shoes. They your favorites?"
Me: *squinting eyes and thinking* "Ummm. . . I guess I like them. They're good work shoes for the most part. And this color goes with a lot of stuff."
Him: "You mean it's a good work shoe for YOU."
Me: "Huh?"

*silence*

Him: "Look here. If them ain't your favorite shoes--hell, your ONLY shoes, then you need to go on and retire 'em."
Me: *looking down at my shoes again*
Him: "Miss Manning you woke me up two different times this week with that damn squeaky shoe. And today it was both of 'em squawking? Lord Jesus! Unh uh!"
Me: *laughing*
Him: "Them shoes got to GO. Or you gon' need to kick 'em off for you get on my hall so folk can get some rest."
Me: *still laughing*
Nurse: "Tell her how you really feel."
Me: "I was in denial."
Him: "Well you need to get out of denial. Or out my room in that shoe."

*laughter*

He's right. I do love the shoes. And I have no idea why or when they started squeaking like this and how to fix it. Wait--I take that back. It was after getting caught in the rain last week. I guess I just hoped it wasn't as bad as I knew it was.

Ha.

That got me thinking about all of the things that we totally notice but that we act like people don't see. Like the skirt that used to fit but is now too tight. Or that stomach or thigh you bared that reeeeally wasn't ready for sunshine or for going un-Spanxed. Or that very odd weave or hairdo that leaves people speechless (to your face.) Or the reeeally wrinkled shirt that you know you should have taken a moment to iron. Or even the funny smelling shirt that you hope only you've noticed. Man. . .If you noticed? Oh, someone else noticed.

Totally.

And this? This is just one more thing to love about Grady. You'll immediately know if you've gained weight, if your decision to go grey is questionable and even if you need some gum since your breath smells like garlic and onions after lunch. Folk will tell you, do you hear me?
By the way--that same patient told me that I shouldn't button too many buttons on my white coat because it makes me look like I'm. . . wait for it. . . ."with child."

Bwah.

***

L-O-V-E.

I took care of you in the hospital for fifteen days straight. I was there when you first came in with those symptoms. And I held your hand when you found out why.
“I am not afraid,” you said. “I’m just really, really glad you’re here.”

And you said that every single one of those days after. You also said the same thing to me each day before I left your room:

“I love you.”

Which isn’t something we never hear as doctors but is something out of the ordinary. But you—you said it each and every time.

I love you.

Not “I’ve got love for you.” Not “I love all that you’ve done.” But those three simple words spoken with clear intention every time.

I love you.

When your body got sicker and you were in pain, I held your hand again. And you looked into my eyes and told me once more, “I am not afraid. I’m just really, really glad you’re here.”

And then, “I love you.”

You had a big fight ahead of you. The kind of big that comes in like a playground bully, stealing lunches and terrorizing the innocent and weak. You were brave and fought back. You did. But that bully wouldn’t leave you be.

No it would not.

Someone called me the other day to tell me you’d been readmitted. This time sicker and requiring intensive care. I was grateful to have been told and made a plan to go see you first thing in the morning the next day.

You transitioned before I could.

Damn.

Today I am thinking of you. Letting your memory remind me of the great privilege of caring for you and every one of my patients at Grady. I am remembering our time together and speaking back the words you gave to me:

I am not afraid. I’m just really, really glad you’re here.

and

I love you.

Yeah.
***

Snitches and stitches.

If a tree falls in the woods and nobody is there to hear it, does it make a sound?

________________________________

On rounds at Grady

Him: "I just wanted to say sorry for how acted yesterday. I shouldn't have cussed at you and called you out your name like that."
Me: *silence*
Him: "I was just in pain. But I know you was just trying to look out for me. I shouldn'ta said all that to you, though."

*silence*

Me: "Um. Are you sure I'm the one you cursed out? I appreciate your apology but I'm not sure I'm the one who should be getting it."
Him: "Damn. Am I going crazy? I was sure it was you."

*silence*

Neighbor on other side of the curtain starts laughing. Loud and hard. We both swing our heads in the direction of that loud cackle.
Neighbor: "Yeah it was you."
Me: "Sir?"
Neighbor: "Bruh, you did have some words for her but it was after she left. You was talking to ME not HER, remember?"
Him: *eyes widened*
Neighbor: "Be glad you didn't hear it, doc. It was . . .whooo." *starts laughing super hard again* "Mane! That lady ain't even know you said nothing!"
Him: *now laughing too* "Damn! I snitched on myself!"
Neighbor: "Yeah bruh. Where they do that at?"

*laughter*

Neighbor: "Want me to tell you what he said?"
Me: "Nah, I'm good."

*laughter*

Him: "At least I said I was sorry."
Me: "True that."
Neighbor: "Hey. . . .do snitches REALLY get stitches in the hospital?"
*howling with laughter*
A Grady elder once told me:
"Some shit said 'bout you ain't meant for you to be hearing. Don't go dissecting some little bitty shit you overheard on Tuesday that don't mean nothing on Wednesday."

Bwah.

This was in reference to her niece whose feelings were hurt because she was earhustling and overheard her auntie talking about her. That elder said she didn't answer the phone when her niece called because she talks too much. When confronted, that elder said:
"Well. You do."

Ha.

Here's what I now know for sure: People say all kinds of things. And sometimes? Some things said about us just AREN'T meant for our ears. Nope. Does it mean the person wants to ruin your life or see you go bankrupt? Nah. And in a perfect world would everyone be saying only nice things? Sure. But you know? It's not that heavy, man.

You know? I'm convinced that my angry-about-oxycodone patient who cursed me out to his neighbor isn't the only person saying something unflattering about me away from my ears.

And I'm cool with that. Supercool, in fact.

So. . .if a tree falls in the woods and nobody is there to hear it, does it make a sound?
Well. That depends on if the tree is a snitch.

(Or in the room with one.)

OMG. I love this place.

***
Happy Humpday.

Aretha.

Any and every resident or medical student who has ever worked with me at Grady has heard me say these words:

"Rock steady, baby."

It is what I say when a patient is doing better. It is what I say when everything is going well. It is the response I give to someone telling me they got several interviews for jobs or fellowships. Or even just the thing I offer someone who asks how things are going with me.

"Rock steady, baby."

It is the song that lifted my spirits after losing my sister. The one that lulled me out of bed and outside to learn to run to combat grief. The beat that thumped in my chest when I spoke to millions of people on CNN as the Chilean miners were rescued. The velvety voice that crooned over my shoulder when stepping up to a podium to give a lecture. And the jam that helped me cross finish lines for those 13.1 mile races I never believed I could run.

Rock steady, baby.

See, I believe that everyone should have a soundtrack playing in their head every single day. Those who know me and have read my blog know that I have a mental iPod playing 24-7. I kid you not--if my life were a movie and it had to have a musical soundtrack? Right at the top of the playlist would be this song.

Rock steady, baby.

Sometimes I put my earjacks in and strut straight into Grady to the beat of this song playing in my ear--literally. But most times? I don't even need it. I can hear it clear as a bell no matter what other ambient noises are around me.

Yup.

Something about the bass. The horns. Her voice. Her voice. . . and the background singers, too. All of it seems to swirl in my spirit and speak to my mood. It says, "You are good. You will be fine. Things are good. And if they aren't, they will be or they can be."

Rock steady, baby.

It makes me want to high five people, do the bump with somebody in the elevator, and put some pep in my step. It makes me want to convince a patient they can make it, shake the hand of a security guard, and raise my hand in the back of the teaching conference. It lifts my spirits and puts my feet on a positive path. Yes. That.

Rock steady, baby.

Such a perfect song. Nothing too fancy. Not too many complicated lyrics. Just good, clean soul. I mean, let's call this song exactly what it is.

Mmmm hmmmm.

So if you see me around Grady or anywhere for that matter. . . .and you wonder why I look like I hear music in my head? It's because I do. And thanks to the Queen of Soul, it is probably this very song.

Rock steady, baby.

Aretha will forever be playing on my mental iPod as a reminder to feel the rhythm of each day and step into it with gratitude. And then? Just call this life exactly what it is: One I'm glad to be living.

Rock steady, baby.

Rest in power, Soror Aretha. Your talent and legacy will live on forever. May you forever move rock steady, baby.

***

Busy is a liar.

The last 36 hours for me have been insurmountably busy. Emotionally, spiritually, physically and personally--all of it like a whirlwind of moments stacked on top of one another in a giant, endless pile. Juggling time for myself and my commitments with the needs of my family and others has been challenging. It's been a lot.

But not impossible.

The older I get and the more I live, the more I realize that it IS possible for busy people to keep a space open in their hearts for concern for others.

Yep.

Yesterday a sorority sister of mine reached out to check on me about something I'd asked her to pray about before. She's busy, too. So that wasn't lost on me.

Another time, my friend David flew all the way back to Atlanta from Philadelphia where he'd just moved three weeks before to attend my sister's memorial service. And, because we are good friends, I knew how chaotic his life was at that time. I did. And I never forgot that.

Nope.

So recently, someone I care about has been navigating a tough time with a sick loved one. And I have been fortunate to walk with her a little bit during this difficult time. A lot of it has transpired in the last 36 hours, too. The epicenter of the same crazy 36 hours that I have been muddling through myself.

At the end of my rounds yesterday, I got a text from that friend. I slipped away from the hustle bustle of the hospital into an empty-ish stairwell. I sat down right on the stairs and, in the middle of my busy day, called my friend. I listened to her talk. I said a few things and then let her go tend to the needs of her family. After that, I scooped it all up and tucked it into my heart for safekeeping.

Then I went back to my work. The whole thing took five minutes.

Listen--nobody can be present for everyone. And Lord knows I drop the ball sometimes and that I have to draw lines somewhere. But what I also know is that it's so easy to trick ourselves into thinking that we're too busy to be emotionally available for those we care about. Or that it doesn't matter when we aren't. I now know for sure that this just isn't true. And that it doesn't even take as much time as I once thought.

Nope.

Sure--sometimes showing up involves planes, trains, and automobiles. But other times? It just involves plopping down on a metal step in a stairwell, just a little bit of effort, and a decision to stop for a few seconds to remember someone in real time.

Once you live long enough and go through enough, you know that it makes a difference. You do.

Yeah. 

***

August.

Waiting for the elevator today at Grady when one of my favorite Grady employees walks up:

Him: "Hey my favorite doc! You having a good day?"
Me: "Hey friend! I'm hangin' in. You?"
Him: "I'm cool. You know what, Dr. Manning? Every time I see you? You always look like you havin' a good day. ALWAYS, you know that? So I don't even know why I asked. I can just look at you and tell."
Me: "Well that's a nice thing to say."
Him: "It's the truth, Miss Manning."

*silence*

Me: "You want to know the truth, sir? Today hasn't been my favorite."
Him: "No? Damn. But you smiling. And on the outside you seem like you happy."
Me: "I didn't say I wasn't happy. I just said today wasn't my favorite is all."
Him: "You okay?"
Me: "I think so."
Him: "What's wrong?"

*silence*

Me: "It's August. My sister that passed a few years back would have turned 50 this month."
Him: *eyes widened* "Damn. She died?"
Me: *nods head* "Yup."
Him: "Damn. I ain't know you lost a sister. That's messed up, man. I hate hearing that."
Me: "Yeah. Me, too."

*silence*

Him: "So you happy. . . but this just ain't your favorite day, huh?"
Me: "Pretty much."
Him: "I had a brother that got shot. Wrong place wrong time. Died the next day. He was young, too."
Me: "Dang. I'm sorry."
Him: *shaking his head* "I feel you, doc. Losing your family ain't no joke."
Me: "That it ain't."

*silence*

Him: "You know what? I like that you let yourself be both things at the same time. Like, it can be a shitty day but that don't mean it's a shitty life."
Me: *squinting eyes* "Wow. That's a good word right there."
Him: "Yeah. Real talk though."
Me: *smiling* "The doors of the church are now open."

*laughter*

Him: "Well I think I'm gon' try to work on letting my life show more than my day whenever I can. 'Cause I think I got a good life."
Me: "Me, too, friend. Me, too."

After that we joined a crowded lunchtime elevator full of people and didn't say much else. But for that whole ride, we were both smiling and letting our lives shine. We sure were.

And the best part? That little exchange made my day better. It did.

Damn, I love this place.

***

Barriers to caring.

"She doesn't speak English," my resident said.
"Okay," I replied. "Let's call the interpreter and then go see another patient until they are ready for us."
"We can use the phone line or the video chat interpreters."

That's what the med student said. And honestly, it was a very good suggestion considering how busy we were that morning.

But.

See, I had never met this patient. And though I am deeply appreciative of the technology that affords us easy, prompt ways to close language barriers, whenever I can help it, I like everybody talking on that first meeting to have a pulse that I can feel.

Our Grady interpreters are so amazing. They have this way of melting away during a discussion and allowing you and your patient to really, truly connect. And again--sometimes I have no choice but to use the phone or video interpreter. On this day, though? I had a choice, man. I did.

Yep.

And so. With the help of Maria, one of our exceptional Spanish interpreters, I listened to the story of this patient. And not just the story of her present illness. The story of her life outside of the hospital. Of her six children who make her very, very proud. Of the tiny details of her symptoms that only come out when feeling unhurried. I also loved that her fluent-in-English son and daughter didn't have to interpret but instead got to sit there and just do what every single other family with a matriarch in the hospital l gets to do: Love their mama, ask their questions, and worry as only they can.

Yup.

The next day she felt better. And, again, I called that human-being interpreter even though the technology and bilingual family member options were readily available. And since she didn't feel sick anymore, this time I learned even more about my patient.

Here's what I learned:

We both have a spoiled labradoodle.
We both have danced all night at a wedding in Mexico City.
We both wish we'd worked harder in school to learn the native tongue of the other.
Neither of us like cheese. (Yuck.)

She's never been to my hometown so I told her all about southern California. I've never been to or even heard of hers so I listened to her paint a vibrant picture of her hometown in Mexico--a place with breathtaking waterfalls and rivers so blue they make you want to cry. "Agua turquesa!" she said with closed eyes for emphasis. Her kids nodded in agreement. Then her English-speaking son insisted that me and his mom Google image it right then and there. Which we did. And she was right--words didn't do those turquoise waters justice. No, they did not.

And I want you to know that that human-being interpreter shared everything we said word-for-word. And none of it took long but all of it made my patient feel better. Which made me feel better, too.

Here's what I know for sure:

Barriers to care can create barriers to caring. Every single time I call and wait for an interpreter to come, it honors my patient. Now more than ever, I want to do that. And though I (always) feel slightly annoyed with myself for being a Los Angelino who doesn't hablás español and though I'm (always) impatient with the time (no matter how short) I have to wait for the human-being interpreter to come, not one single time have I ever regretted it after the fact.

Nunca.


I'm really thankful for our interpreters at Grady.
***
#mejortrabajodelahistoria #elamoresloque #bestjobever #loveisthewhat #amazinggrady #iwanttogotosanluispotosinow #herhometownisdope #nowaterfallsininglewood

From from.

“Where are your people from? Maybe Mississippi or an island?” 

- India.Arie, “Brown Skin”

Grady elevator, July 4.

Him: “Hey doc.”
Me: “Hey there, sir.”
*silence*
Him: “Hey doc? Where you from?”
Me: “Me? I’m from California.”
Him: “No I meant like, where you FROM FROM.”
Me: “Ummmm. Born in Compton. Raised in Inglewood.” *holds up hand gesture* “West syeeeeeed.”

*laughter*

Him: *squints eyes* “But where your peoples from?”
Me: “Alabama.”
Him: “Alabama? So you just regular black? I was thinking you was something else.”

Me: *shrugs and smiles* “Nope.”
Him: *still pondering my ancestry*

*silence*

Me: “So tell me, friend. Where’re you from?”
Him: “Straight out the A. Vine City.”
Me: “Gotcha. Is that where you’re FROM FROM? Like, your peoples, too?”
Him: “Yep. I’m just a regular ass n*** from Atlanta.”

*silence*

Me: “So, why are you at Grady today on Firecracker day?”
Him: “To see my grandmama. She been real sick.”
Me: “I’m sorry to hear that. Are y’all close?”
Him: “She my heart.” *eyes glistening so looks down* “I see her every day.”
Me: “I bet she’s so glad to see you everyday.”
Him *nods and keeps looking down*

After that, I asked his name and told him mine. I told him that I thought his grandmama was a very lucky woman to have a special grandson who came to see her every single day. And then I reached my floor and the doors opened. I stepped out but then turned back to face him with my hand on the door.

Me: “Hey grandson? Can you do me and your grandmama a favor?”
Him: *looks up* “Yes, ma’am.”
Me: “Please don’t ever, ever refer to yourself as a ‘regular ass n***’ again, okay? Like, ever. Because you’re not.”
Him: *staring at me while I stand in the doorway as elevator buzzer starts going off*
Me: “Alright then, grandson. Go see ‘bout your heart. She waiting on you.”
Him: “Alright then, doc.”

Me: *smiling*
Him: *smiling back*

Both of us: *fist bump*

I love this place.❤️🏥

***
#slowtojudge #hewasspecial #peopleoftenaskwhereimfromfrom #butonlymyownpeopleask #itscooltho #totallycoolwithme #dialoguestarter #amazinggrady #loveisthewhat #alwaysandinallways

Thick as thieves.

Afternoon with a Grady elder:

Me: "I heard you had a lot of visitors today. I hate I missed them."
Her: "Yeah. It was mostly good."
Me: "Mostly?"
Her: "Mmmm hmmmm."

*silence while watching TV*

Her: "My granddaughter got upset with me."
Me: "Oh yeah? Why?"
Her: "She say I ain't got no business laughing at the TV or at anything else when so much serious stuff happening with my body. She don't like me to be talking about or thinking about anything that ain't concerning my health. She feel like I shouldn't do that."

Me: *just listening*

Her: "Here's what happened: My granddaughter came in here with her friend and her friend just cut her hair all down with some clippers into one of these little afro hairstyles." *pats her head to make sure I understand*
Me: "Wait--what does that have to do with. . ."
Her: "'Cause it look a mess." *laughing hard and smacking the cover in front of her* "Oh Lord. Not cute on her at all. Bless her heart."

*laughter*

Me: "Now that's cold. Did she ask your opinion about her hair?"
Her: "When she came up in my room she did." *laughing even louder*
Me: *shaking my head and trying not to laugh*
Her: "And 'fore you say I got hate in my heart for being black it ain't that neither. Some of these little naturals look real nice. I just don't like it when somebody go and cut they hair off and don't do nothing. Just show up looking like somebody bad ass grandson."

*laughter*

Her: "I want you to pick it or put some pomade in it or somethin'!"
Me: *laughing*
Her: "And then you act like since it's a afro I can't say nothing. That's where you wrong."

*more laughter*

Her: *now serious* "But that ain't what made her mad. It was just that I could laugh period."
Me: "I see."
Her: "And I tried to tell her--'Baby, even when sad and heavy stuff happen 'round you, it don't erase the happy and light stuff.'"

Me: *staring at her*

Her: "Like, if you lose your wife, right? I can tell you I'm sorry and mean it. And then if your little next door neighbor come over and borrow a cup of sugar but want to tell you a joke he heard in school that day, I got it in me to laugh at it."

Me: *still listening*

Her: "I can be sad 'bout your wife and laugh at that joke, too. And it don't make me no less sad 'bout your predicament neither. 'Cawse, see, I think happy and sad--they thick as thieves. So I go on and let 'em live in harmony."

*silence*

Me: "I wish I could record this to play back to myself later."
Her: "Naw. You a good listener. When you listen good, you catch it all."

*silence*

Her: "I don't want nobody turning on they sad on my account. Just be you. If you see me and you feel sad, then be that. But if somewhere in there you got some glad in you, don't go pushing it down on accounta me."
Me: "I love this. Thank you--for real."
Her: "Bet it don't even make sense."

*suddenly I want to cry*

Me: "The thing is. . . it makes so much sense that it makes me want to cry."
Her: "Cry?" *laughing* "Why you want to go and do that?"
Me: "I just feel guilty sometimes. When I feel sad and happy at the same time."
Her: "Don't. Your heart would go crazy if it had to just be one of those all the time."

*silence*

Me: "Do you feel sad about everything sometimes?"
Her: "Sure I do. Sometimes I be in here crying, too."
Me: "You do?"
Her: "Wouldn't you?"

*silence*

Her: "But look here. . . .if you seent that hairdo on that child? Whoooo weeee. You woulda laughed, too. Shit, maybe even cried."

*collective laughter*

Sigh.

My patient was right. I DID listen. And I caught it all. 

Happy and sad are thick as thieves.
And, like her,  I've made up my mind to just let them live.

Yeah.

***
#agoodword #gradyeldersrule #thickasthieves #amazinggrady #loveisthewhat #lettherebelight #andlightenTFupwhileyouatit