BLOG
Long before anyone asked the Make America Great Again crowd to pinpoint exactly when America was great if you were Black, I heard a White stand-up comedian joke about how he could pretty much go back to any time in history and be ok, and acknowledged a Black person would not be ok. Hell, we’re still not ok.
But when I think about medicine, no one could go back in time and expect to be better off. And not just from the discovery of antibiotics or anesthesia perspective—from all the perspectives!
“My sister won’t let me have anything I want to eat,” said Mr. G during his primary care clinic visit. In his late fifties, Mr. G had suffered a stroke that had taken a toll on his memory. His sister had stepped in to help.
“Like what?” I asked.
“Like burritos.”
“Why not?”
“Because of my kidney failure.”
I did a little what you talkin’ ‘bout Willis pout, as I didn’t remember him as having kidney failure.
I made a simple wish list for Christmas. Some new fuzzy Uggs since I wore down the last pair to fuzzless. A lavender candle or two for my bubble baths. And a pretty journal for writing.
If you knew my hubby (and holder of my left kidney for 16 years now), you would not be surprised that not only did he present me with new fuzzy Uggs, bubble bath swag, lounging PJs because he had grown weary of seeing me in the red plaid Target PJ set I bought at least three years ago, but also a trough of journals. And not just simple journals. No, the trough from my forever and wonderfully extra Robert was filled with soft brown leather-jacketed journals with a fancy wrap-around tie, each embossed with: Dr. Vanessa Grubbs, The People’s Nephrologist.
