Dear Martha Hall,
I wish I could have talked to you in person. I suppose, one day I will be able to. I found your books to be beautiful. I found the hardest part to be I expected to write you a letter at the end. I want to tell you about how my class watched your film, read your books alongside you, and were able to share in your pain. The books you wrote gave insight into how you felt in your adventure through healthcare. The books are needed for physicians, the black and white physicians. Words matter; not only in writing but in the voice of the doctor, of the patient, of the individual.
I love how you sat down the doctor and told him he had to finally read your book. He had to sit close with you. He had to explain himself while you were able to explain yourself. This black and white doctor, acknowledging how he acted compared to how you felt. Although, not all physicians may have this wake up call in life, they can try to connect with their patients and understand their actions. Physicians are in charge of a life, not only physically, but also emotionally.
I’m sorry. I’m Sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, that I was not around to talk to you in your life. Recognition always seems to happen after death for all the great writers. I wonder if you know, what an impact you have had.
Sincerely,
Caitlin Paredes
Caitlin,
This is beautiful. I love the way you have structured it as a letter. It makes me think about letters as a tool of narrative medicine, a possible way to get students thinking about the layers of a patient’s life. What about having to write a letter to your cadaver in the first year of medical school? Or a letter to the person’s family? Thank you for writing this.