Humanities in Medicine

conversations surrounding the role of technology and biology in tackling environmental concerns, and the future of design in a resource-limited world.

Another example of interdisciplinary convergence is seen in the emergence of biomimicry – the practice of utilizing nature’s principles and processes to create eco-friendly solutions. Cutting-edge medical designs, prosthetic devices, and surgical tools are being created using this approach, resulting in more efficient and sustainable outcomes. Moreover, biomimicry has inspired biophilic architecture, a design strategy that incorporates natural elements into buildings to boost human wellness. According to studies, biophilic design in healthcare settings reduces anxiety, promotes quick recovery, and improves patient outcomes. Furthermore, advancements in digital fabrication techniques, particularly 3D printing, have changed the medical world in many ways. Such technology allows for the creation of customized medical devices, implants, and pros- thetics that cater to patients’ particular requirements while providing them with unique solutions. Moreover, 3D printing shows great promise in the field of tissue engineering and regenerative medicine, which could play a crucial role in the future of human organ transplantation. Looking back, despite all the challenges we are facing and those that lay ahead, now is the most exciting time in human history. And our vision of tomorrow is built upon the work of giants across generations, across disciplines, whose lives and work continue to influence ours today. Science, technology and medicine today are closely intertwined and are recognized as such. However, the influence of the humanities in these fields is frequently forgotten. Paraphrasing Fareed Zakaria, the sciences are the how, and the humanities are the why - why are we here, why do we believe in the things we believe in, why do we respond the way we do, why do we have the emotions that we have. It is therefore paramount for us as good stewards to encourage, support, foster and empower our peers across disciplines to enable these confluences that will enable us to build a better tomorrow. +

Akil A. Sherif, MD is a second year fellow and chief fellow elect at the St. Vincent Hospital Cardiology fellowship program.

Ice, a Warm Cup of Tea, and a Night in the ED

Golda Grinberg, MS4

The Gold Humanism Honor Society (GHHS) is a community of medical students, physicians, and other leaders who have been selected by their peers for their compassionate care. GHHS reinforces and supports the importance of the human connection in healthcare, which is essential for the health of patients and clinicians. Founded in 2002, through the generous support of Robert Wood Johnson Foundation, The Berrie Foundation, and an anonymous donor, GHHS now has more than 180 chapters in medical schools and residency programs and more than 45,000 members. GHHS hosts many initiatives and events that are open to all, including Solidarity Week for Compassionate Care, Thank a Resident Day, the Gold Connection podcast, and Golden Glimmers (https://www.gold-foundation.org/programs/ghhs).

On behalf of the GHHS, in honor of the annual transition of Solidarity Week, we held a creative writing contest, eliciting creative or non-fiction responses to the following prompt: What makes someone humanistic or what is an example of humanism you have observed in others? Congratulations to our winner, Golda (Goldie) Grinberg, MS4, UMass Chan Medicine School.

Ihad just finished a surgical knot tying workshop and rejoiced in finally settling into the groove of my OBGYN clerkship. I felt a buzz and looked down to see a text from my husband, who was supposed to be taking our baby to multiple outpatient appointments that morning: He had a few apneic seizures this morning. Going to the ED just to be safe. Can you come? I started to mentally rearrange my schedule and calculated against the extra 90 minutes of driving to stop at home and get my breast pump. I had planned to use the one in the lactation room at my current location but figured I had enough time to find one in the ED where I was headed. On the drive over, I relaxed to Disney music as I prepared for the marathon ahead. As a parent of a medically complex child, this wasn’t my first rodeo. I knew that stress wouldn’t be productive in the moment.

I walked into the room and surveyed the scene. Thankfully, our son was asleep, taking up a small fraction of the stretcher with his G-tube hanging on the railing. Without pausing for too long to relish the opportunity to catch up with my husband over lunch, I found his nurse and repeated my well scripted line: “Can I please have a pump, two 8oz bottles, a washing bin, two bags of ice, and dish soap, so I can pump soon?” In truth, I still had an hour until my next session, but experience had taught me that it’s best to ask as soon as possible because of the flurry of activity

Ice, a Warm Cup of Tea, and a Nigh in the ED Continued

in the ED. A few hours later, just I was starting to painfully engorge, the nurse finally walked in with a pump and bottles. She couldn’t find the rest. With a sigh I assembled the apparatus and stuck the flanges on. The milk can stay a room temperature for four hours, and since our son had been stable thus far, maybe we could make it home by then.

Just as I started a let-down of milk, he went stiff and pale. Before the pulse oximeter registered his apnea, I slammed the red “Staff Assist” button. I hunched over the stretcher railing as I snaked the oxygen tubing near his nose, trying to not lean too far and spill my precious collection. Thankfully the last few months of exclusive pumping had provided adequate maneuvering practice. The room suddenly filled with people who stabilized him in a few minutes. The team then introduced themselves as the oncoming providers and shared the new plan of admission for neurologic monitoring. The last to file out was the attending physician. She glanced down at my chest, which was double its normal girth due to the flanges and bottles bulging under an oversized shirt that I had draped over to preserve some modesty. Without skipping a beat, she asked with confidence, “What can I get you?”

I answered with my previous request of supplies, and miraculously, three minutes later, she walked in with a bin, dish soap, and plenty of ice to keep the milk cool. I knew something like this didn’t randomly happen. I joked, “I’m guessing you’ve pumped before?” She affirmed with a smile and said that’s where she was about to go.

The admission orders included plenty of blood work, which typically required the specialized IV team equipped with ultrasound guidance to find a viable vein in our son. The ED team gladly acquiesced but warned that the IV team would likely only be able to come in the middle of the night. Sure enough, we were starting to feel the adrenaline crash when the IV team finally arrived. We recognized the nurse from a previously successful attempt and felt comfortable slumping into nearby chairs for a reprieve. I turned to my husband to discuss logistics for the rest of the night. We had learned that at least one of us should sleep in a nearby hospitality house to recharge physically and mentally in order to effectively communicate and advocate for our son. I offered, “You can sleep there tonight, but if you can find anywhere open, some tea would be great.” We keep kosher, so the available food options were slim. He packed up and left. Thirty minutes later, I concluded he hadn’t found an open shop. I tried to energize through the fact that they had successfully drawn labs. Just then, the nurse walked in, holding a cup of steaming tea. He had overheard our conversation, and I guess I looked desperate enough for a caffeine boost. That tea powered me until we finally were admitted hours later.

I often meditate on the sensation of feeling seen by the attending and nurse. Those positive emotions fill me up and override the more numerous, less than ideal ED memories. What is it about those experiences that tug on my heart strings? My best guess is that they are a reminder that providers are human, too. Their assessment of a situation can run deeper than knowing which order sets are necessary to narrow the differential. The attending drew on her own experience as mother and realized the timeliness of obtaining pump supplies. The nurse recognized that the wellbeing of parents also impacts a patient’s care and that their stamina needs to extend beyond a single shift. Now, when I meet a family for the first time when they arrive on the floor, I try to remember that they usually haven’t slept for a night or two. I try to find out if there’s a small service that I can provide to show that we care about them, too. +

In loving memory of our son, Seffi Grinberg.

Golda Grinberg, MS4 is a fourth-year medical student at UMass Chan Medical School going into pediatrics. She started writing as a way of reframing precious experiences as a mother of a medically complex child into a narrative that helps physicians deepen their understanding of the patient and family perspective.