“The Waiting Room” , a poem excerpt
“Every day, I try to see through the patient lens, and I ask: what can we do to change this broken system? To deliver healthcare in a way that treats people with the dignity they deserve? Will I do better tomorrow?”
This oncology clinician is passionate about patients being able to get the care they need. But every day he observes how social determinants of health, like access to housing, transportation or childcare, prevent this from being possible. “Is it ethical to start chemo for a patient who has no home to return to?” he contemplated. “Who was this system designed for?
As our conversation unfolded, I found myself more and more curious about why he cared so deeply about improving healthcare, so I inquired. “I’m Lebanese,” he began. “I grew up in Beirut during the civil war. People died in the streets every day and human life didn’t matter to those doing the killing. This is why I chose to go into the medical field.”
His openness brought me to tears. “When I reflect on what I see in healthcare today, I find myself wondering: how much better are we, really?” he said. “But everyone can do something small within the sphere of their control. Back home, my focus was education. Today, my focus is on each human being in front of me and remembering that we all have a story.”
The Waiting Room
Back home in Lebanon, the war was at its worst
in grades five, six, and seven
We slept inside the cold, cinder block stairwells
of a nearby building
Ten of us would fight for the spot
closest the candlelight
to finish our homework in the flickers
Staying focused kept us calm
‘cuz our teacher didn’t give a damn
why the math paper couldn’t get done
Before we’d leave for class each morning
mom would hug us in the kitchen, one-by-one
look you straight in the eyes, saying
what her words never would
(they knew killing a child
would send the strongest message)
Every day when I look in the mirror
I brush back my dark black curls
catch a quick glimpse of the scar
on the right side of my forehead
Many times as the snipers tried, this
was the closest they came
Having gotten good at dodging shots in the streets
hightailing, hill to hill, I’m among the lucky
Unlike too many patients I care for today
Most have to travel a long distance
only one bridge from there to here
four hours, on a good day
One patient, a single mom of three
has breast cancer
Couldn’t drop her kids to school
in time to make her appointment so
they sit with her in the waiting room
“Sorry, ma’am – we don’t allow children
and our policy clearly states
you’ll forfeit your appointment
if more than twenty minutes late”
The look in her eyes
no different from mom’s
those mornings in our Beirut kitchen
as she gazed her silent goodbyes
