On the 48

I’ve had many journeys on public transport as a child and as an adult. Getting to doctor appointments, going to work with my mother, going to visit family and in adulthood -work and school. While riding the bus or train can sometimes be a game of chance (delays and crowdedness) I find it also a place to learn and observe.

My morning commute takes me through The Mission and stops at San Francisco General as is it snakes through the hills and side streets before it gets me to Mission Bay. As it moves through the neighborhoods elders and young people jump on and off. A familiar experience that transports me back and reminds me of my commutes back in LA.

Señoras with coffee in their hands take their seat and I can’t help but greet in Spanish. They may not know this but seeing them brings me joy, it reminds me how healing it is to see people like yourself, with your brown skin, speaking in your tongue. And when I search my heart, it reminds me of my mother. It reminds me of her stories of meeting people on the train and bus; it reminds me of her sharing when passengers would get up to let her sit, it reminds me how passengers would share with her their journey.

I met a Senora today, Centroamericana, and tried to give her my seat but she said she would be sitting all day so preferred to stand. Embracing that perspective I stood with her and while she shared about where she was headed. I listened, I absorbed her words and their teachings.

She was headed to The General for a medical appointment, the bus was delayed by garbage trucks and delivery trucks and the many other things that can make an easy commute longer than expected. She, in a worried voice, “estoy tarde y no me van a aceptar para mi cita.” She continued to comment that “they” often don’t believe patients when they say the bus made them late. She was going to try and call but decided that she wouldn’t since every time she calls she’s on hold for 15mins- might as well make it to clinic and see what happens. Her commutes may be different than mine but my heart and soul remember the feeling of having to get somewhere and the bus not moving fast enough; my heart remembers those bus rides where running late with my mom meant we would be power walking to make our appointments on time. Today, this senora reminded me of the journey many folks need to make to get to their destinations.

Lesson:

Believe patients when they say they had a hard time making it to their visit. We cannot always accommodate due to schedule and flow (we really should)but at the very least we can affirm, validate and honor their truth. Folks don’t want to be late, folks don’t want to be an “inconvenience,” life and it’s realities is what makes a person late to their appointments. Seeing my first patient tomorrow as a pediatrician and I have no doubt my mother and my ancestors continue to uplift me and center my work.