Reflejo

A number of things have been on my mind over the last few weeks as rotations and life has kept me on go-go-go energy. My walks along the coast, with friends and with my husband help me move through energy that my body stores.

In my experience there has been an unspoken rule in my family (I imagine this applies to others) where exploring our families journey to the US is a careful dance around wanting to create space to talk about trauma endured and being mindful not to trigger and resurface pain that has been kept quiet. Elders and others talk about stories and memories of being back home in Guatemala and stories of what it was like to build a life in LA in the late 70s early 80s and to hustle to keep our families houses and fed. Vague acknowledgments are made to let us know for some of our loved ones the path to the US was not easy and came with its own baggage.

Knowing this about my own family has gifted me space to listen and hold space for those unspoken messages my patients and their families tell me- the body language, the things unspoken but inferred, the softening of a voice as issues around eviction, IPV, trauma from the journey away from their home country surface.

Watching my mother fight for us as she figured out our fate after being evicted from our home, watching my parents absorb classist/racist actions towards them by employers for simply being brown, for having limited English, for being an immigrant and not knowing their rights as workers helps me hold space, even if brief, for my patients and their loved ones. I remember squeezing my mothers hands and knowing no matter what would be ok. Her voice, as those who remember her, was powerful, stern, and gentle; and when she would say “todo va estar bien” I was reassured that regardless of where life takes us we would be ok.

I firmly believe providers have an ethical responsibility to process and sit with the narratives and stories our patients share with us. Folks come to us in hopes of medical needs being addressed and along that process they often share such vulnerable and raw experiences that have led to or at the very least impact the current health outcome/status. Many internal protective factors and so many external forces keeping families in survival mode. So, maybe not in the moment but at some point it is critical to our work and and to simply the human experience to stay connected to the struggles of others and to process how the care of patients impacts us and changes us.

My patients are special, they are powerful, they are complex humans, their parents and guardians often making the impossible possible; they laugh, they cry, they thrive and they also struggle.

I want to take a moment and honor that while my patients and their families are resilient, strong and beautiful; many are struggling. The bay is full of wealth and many folks move through the city oblivious/ actively ignore the state of health and economic struggle families experience- their existence is not linked to that of my patients and the communities they are part of. The bay is also full of folks who fighting for their communities, folks who are committed to uplifting voices and experiences different from their own and supporting the much needed work community leaders/activist and organizers are calling upon us to center.

I will continue to bare witness to intimate moments where parents and elders reassure my patients with the phrase “todo va estar bien, no importa lo que pasa, vamos estar bien” and the many iterations this takes and the many languages this is often said.

Feb. 2022