The Waiting Room

“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 each human being in front of me and remembering that we all have a story.”

 

Listener Poet Jenny Hegland

IHI Forum

December 2023

 

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