Reposted: Our Ancestors’ Wildest Dreams: From Slave & Immigrant Families to Ivy League Residents

Updated and reposted from the April 21, 2023 issue of the Transformational Times

Our Ancestors’ Wildest Dreams: From Slave & Immigrant Families to Ivy League Residents  

British Fields, MD and Adriana Perez, MD 

 

Drs. Fields and Perez are two first-generation, underrepresented in medicine (URiM) physicians who navigated a system that once didn’t accept people that looked like them. They describe creating a space of advocacy for patients and future generations of Black and Brown medical students ...

 

“No, I’m not the interpreter. No, I’m not the cleaning staff. I’m a student doctor.” These phrases became all too familiar to us as we embarked on the journey to becoming physicians. We had gone from being praised for being the first doctors in our families, to countless encounters with patients and medical staff assuming we weren't the student doctor because of the color of our skin.  

 

The Culture Shock 

Being first-generation medical students came with a lot more struggles than we anticipated. One of the hardest challenges to overcome was that of being financially disadvantaged. Who knew there would be a whole hidden curriculum requirement? Spending money to get on an equal footing seemed like an impossible task as our families didn’t understand that there was much to becoming a doctor than what was taught in lectures.  

We both soon realized we weren’t in Kansas anymore. The rigor of medical school was something we did not fully grasp until we both failed the first quiz after two weeks of nonstop studying. After many failed exams, we spiraled into four years of secret self-doubt, self-loathing, and imposter syndrome.   

Although these feelings became ingrained in us, we knew that there was a bigger purpose at play here as our patients said “¡Si se puede hermanita, necesitamos mas doctores como tu!” (You can do it little sister; we need more doctors like you!). 

 

Our Commitment to Changing Culture 

While we knew coming into medical school that we were not in the majority, the differences in our identities and background were further amplified. Although these feelings initially weighed us down, we learned to harness and use them as fuel to support each other and other students throughout our journey. We quickly became involved with different organizations at MCW that shared goals of supporting students who are racially/ethnically and economically disadvantaged at the institution, in the community, and eventually at a national level through the Student National Medical Association (SNMA), Latinx Medical Student Association (LMSA), and White Coats for Black Lives (WC4BL).  

 It didn’t always feel like we were having an impact, but we were reminded to continue our work when we heard comments like, “Your story inspired me to take a gap year to retake the MCAT and apply next year!” 

We also sought ways to increase our involvement in caring for historically marginalized and vulnerable communities in Milwaukee. Through the Saturday Clinic for the Uninsured (SCU) and Walker’s Point Community Clinic (WPCC), we were reinvigorated to solidify our place in medicine as patients told us, “You’re the first doctor I’ve had that looks like me.” These were the times that inspired us to keep pushing in moments of self-doubt on patient rounds or failed exams.  

  

The Light at the End of the Tunnel 

At MCW, we found the things that we are most passionate about, mentors who believed in us, and served as role models. We gained the exposure and the tools necessary to continue to pursue our work in addressing healthcare disparities through research and within medical education through teaching and mentoring students at all levels of training.  

No, we are not just future physicians. We are advocates, teachers, mentors, change agents, and hermanas (sisters).  

 

British Fields, MD graduated from MCW in 2023 and is now a Pediatric resident at Harvard University’s Boston Combined Residency Program in the Leadership in Equity and Advocacy Track. 

Adriana Perez, MD graduated from MCW in 2023 and is now a resident in the Yale University School of Medicine Department of Anesthesiology. 

Photography and the Medical Humanities

 From the 4/9/2021 edition of the Transformational Times

Photography and the Medical Humanities

Carlyle Chan, MD

Dr. Chan served on the AAMC Arts and Humanities Integration Committee that drafted the FRAHME (Fundamental Role of Arts and Humanities in Medical Education) report. He shares how a deeper dive into the humanities, and photography in particular, can teach physicians to be better observers and help “defy acceleration” in their lives …

“The arts teach creative means of expression, understanding of different perspectives, an awareness of knowledge and emotions throughout the human experience, and the sharing of perceptions through artistic creation and practices in the expressive world.”

“The humanities teach close reading practices as an essential tool, an appreciation for context across time and space, qualitative analysis of social structures and relationships, the importance of perspective, the capacity for empathic understanding analysis of the structure of an argument…”

-NASEM 2018

Similar to the NASEM (National Academies of Sciences, Engineering, and Medicine) report, the object of the AAMC FRAHME (Fundamental Role of Arts and Humanities in Medical Education) initiative was to “improve the education, practice, and well-being of physicians through deeper integrative experiences with the arts and humanities.”

Photography is a visual art that consists of many sub-categories including, but not limited to, landscape, fine art, portrait, street, food, and photojournalism.  Like other visual arts a photograph can evoke very different personal responses from each individual viewing an image.  Photographer Minor White utilizes the term Equivalence to describe this response.   In psychiatry, we might describe this as a form of transference.  That is, we bring our past experiences into our present-day life.  

For the photographer, photographs have a magical element.  In a fleeting moment, a person can preserve a scene in perpetuity.  As the saying goes, “Take a picture.  It lasts longer.”  However, the camera is not as sensitive as the human eye.  With the exception of photojournalism, adjusting an image after capturing one (a.k.a. postproduction) allows the photographer the creative freedom to better represent what was seen in the mind’s eye.  This is not unlike a painter who may add clouds and move objects to improve a scene’s composition.  Both these activities, picture taking and postproduction, are creative processes.  The former requires, among other skills, powers of observation, perspective taking, composition, and appreciation of lighting.  The latter includes the same skill sets plus technical ones to help develop the final product.  

It has been said that one way to relieve stress is to find an activity that defies acceleration.  Taking and processing photos does slow down the pace of life.  One views and studies the scene to be captured and similarly views and studies the image to be rendered.  Engaging in photography not only provides a diversion from the demands of clinical practice and a respite from life pressures, but also an outlet for creative endeavors.  Photographs are another vehicle for implementing Visual Thinking Strategies while helping avoid burnout.  Parenthetically, the best camera to have is the one you have with you, be it a professional grade SLR or one on a smartphone.  Lastly, and perhaps most importantly, photography is fun.

Carlyle Chan, MD, is Professor and Vice Chair for Professional Development and Educational Outreach in the Department of Psychiatry and Behavioral Medicine at MCW. 

Remediation: A Story About Maryam

Reprinted from the January 27, 2023 issue of the Transformational Times

Remediation: A Story About Maryam 

Cassie Ferguson, MD 

 

Dr. Ferguson, who is a reknowned mentor and educator at MCW, tells the story of one student who came to her when on the edge of academic despair ...

The most rewarding mentoring relationship I’ve had with a medical student began the day she came to see me in my office to tell me about her experiences on academic leave. Maryam* had heard that I started a task force to learn about our school’s remediation process and wanted to share her story with me. I now know her to be a fierce, determined daughter of immigrants, but that day in my office she sat hesitantly on the very edge of her chair, backpack on, and glanced frequently at the door, as if she hadn’t yet decided to stay. Her voice was flat, and she rarely made eye contact when she spoke. She told me that after failing a course by less than a percentage point, she was asked to take an academic leave of absence before her first year ended. She might be able to come back, she was told, in the fall and repeat her entire first year. What she was not told was that when she drove to school the day after her leave began, her student ID would not work, and she would not be let into the school’s parking lot.  

“They just threw me away,” she said.   

Maryam’s story—her whole story—would take me years to learn. How she was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis during her first year of medical school after months of attributing her symptoms to stress. How she learned that she was dyslexic in her second year of medical school. How intense test-taking anxiety finally drove her to seek help from a psychologist. That information would be given to me in pieces as she grew to trust me, and I have slowly and carefully put those pieces together. Even now, four years after we met for the first time and three years of meeting with her every other week, I know that Maryam has not revealed all the pain she felt during that time, or during the struggles she has had since. I believe that this is in part because of her reluctance to seem as if she is making excuses, in part because of the intense shame that accompanies failing in medical school, and in part out of deference for the archaic medical hierarchy that still hangs over our profession, and the accompanying perception that my time is somehow more valuable than hers.  

That hurt we embrace becomes joy. / Call it to your arms where it can change.

-Rumi 

Medical school is not for the faint of heart. As a result, supporting medical students—particularly those who are struggling—requires love, grit, and fierce compassion. I have learned both through my own experience with failure and from working with students like Maryam that if we are to live up to the titles of teacher, mentor, and advisor we must walk with our students; we must show up even when showing up is uncomfortable. It is precisely when things get hard that we need to lean in and wade through the uncertainty and pain with our students. This requires that we recognize that we have something to offer because of our own life experiences, but I believe the bigger imperative is that we acknowledge that the boundaries of our experiences limit our ability to know what our students are going through. The only way to begin to truly understand is to get very quiet and listen to their stories.  

When we listen to a story, research using fMRI demonstrates that our brain activity begins to synchronize with that of the storyteller; the greater our comprehension, the more closely our brain wave patterns mirror theirs. The areas of our brain involved in the processing of emotions arising from sounds are activated, particularly during the more emotional parts of the story. Even more amazingly, when we read a story, the networks of our brain involved in deciphering another person’s motives—in imagining what drives them—prompts us to take on another person’s perspective and even shift our core beliefs about the world. 

It is impossible to engage properly with a place or a person without engaging with all of the stories of that place or person.

-Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie 

These findings should not come as a surprise to those of us whose work includes caring for patients. As an emergency medicine physician, I have heard thousands of stories. Whether they are snapshots relayed through EMS of how a 14-year-old child was shot in the head at two in the morning on Milwaukee’s north side, an exquisitely detailed account of a 3-year-old’s fever and runny nose from her mother, or a reluctantly provided history of pain and despair that led a 12-year-old to try and kill himself, each of these stories should transform us. They should move us to want and do better for our patients, for our communities, and for our world.  

At the same time, it is essential that as physicians and educators we also recognize what Nigerian author Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie describes as the “danger of the single story.” As an emergency medicine physician, I only hear stories of peoples’ suffering; I am listening to them when they at their most vulnerable, on what may be the worst day of their life. I only hear of the tragedies that have befallen a neighborhood we serve. As an educator who mentors students who are struggling, I often miss out on their stories that are not about failure or crisis. Adichie warns that when we only listen for the single story, there is “no possibility of feelings more complex than pity, no possibility of a connection as human equals.”  

So then our charge as physicians, as educators, and as human beings is to make room for more than just a single story—to remember that all of us are much more than our worst moments, and that compassion and connection arise authentically when we recognize the full spectrum of humanity in one another.  

*Names have been changed.  

Catherine (Cassie) Ferguson, MD, is an Associate Professor in the Department of Pediatrics, Section of Emergency Medicine at MCW and Associate Director of the Robert D. and Patricia E. Kern Institute for the Transformation of Medical Education. 

An LGBTQ+ Patient Asks: Can You Recommend a Good Primary Care Provider?

Originally published in the 12/18/2020 issue of the Transformational Times

An LGBTQ+ Patient Asks: Can You Recommend a Good Primary Care Provider?

Andy Petroll, MD

Dr. Petroll, who conceived and founded the Froedtert & MCW Inclusion Health Clinic, describes the role that the clinic plays to enhance services to the LGBTQ+ community in Milwaukee and beyond...

Since I began my career in medicine nearly twenty years ago, and as a member of the LGBTQ+ community, I would hear this question frequently. Usually, the next sentence was the questioner expressing a preference for a provider who was, themself, a member of the LGBTQ+ community, but stating that they would be willing to settle for someone who wasn’t. At minimum, they wanted a provider who would make them feel comfortable and would easily understand them when they talked about their sex life, their gender identity, or their relationships with their partner and families, while also providing them with the care they needed. I’d always do my best to make a recommendation, but I knew that what they were looking for was hard to find, especially if their insurance required them to stay within one health system or if they wanted a provider in a certain part of town. A handful of large and mid-sized cities had LGBTQ-focused clinics, many of which had been well-established for decades, but here in Wisconsin, there were none.

Identifying concerns for LGBTQ+ patients

What would often follow this question was a story about a negative experience in healthcare. Sometimes, their provider had not understood or had not wanted to hear about the kind of sex they were having. Maybe they were asked which parent was “really the mother.” Maybe they were called out of the waiting room by their legal name, rather than the name they actually used and that reflected their gender identity and appearance, sending shockwaves of embarrassment, anger, or fear through their bodies immediately before entering the exam room. Maybe they had asked for medication for HIV prevention and their provider was unfamiliar with or unwilling to learn about it or, worse, chastised them for even asking. In some cases, they had subsequently acquired HIV. Maybe they had had a good experience with their provider, only to have a staff member ask them an inappropriate question, or, horrifyingly, try to convince them that their sexual orientation or gender identity was immoral. Maybe their provider was “nice enough,” but “seemed uncomfortable” discussing sexual health, or never offered appropriate screening for STIs or certain kinds of cancers.

Of course, the stories I heard were a skewed sample. People who were satisfied with their care wouldn’t have reason to ask me for a recommendation or tell me their story. Nonetheless, after years of these conversations, I knew there was a demand for better healthcare for LGBTQ+ people. People wanted a combination of things:

• A physical space that made them feel like they belonged

• Clinic staff that would understand them without having to explain themselves

• A provider who would know what preventive tests they needed and who would comfortably listen to and competently answer questions about their sexual health

• A provider who could explain and prescribe medications that would affirm their gender

A provider who would know that it may have taken extraordinary courage for them to even come to the appointment.

Meeting an unmet need

The hope to meet these expectations formed the vision for the F&MCW Inclusion Health Clinic. The journey from conceptualization to inauguration was long. Along the way, when presenting this idea to senior leadership, I was met with enthusiastic support beyond my expectations. Appropriately, we were asked to formulate business plans similar to any new, proposed venture. After revising our plans, assembling MCW providers with significant expertise, training staff, decorating our clinic space, developing of a webpage, and doing outreach at community events, the plans for the clinic were approved. After more than three years of planning, we opened the F&MCW Inclusion Health Clinic in July 2018.

The goal is for the clinic to deliver comprehensive care within a clinical space that feels familiar and welcoming by providers who are experienced with and passionate about LGBTQ+ health. The clinic opened with six providers from several specialties (Internal Medicine, Infectious Diseases, Obstetrics/Gynecology, Psychiatry). The clinic population grew steadily, limited only by the number of new patient openings we had available. Over time, we delightedly welcomed additional enthusiastic providers from additional specialties (Endocrine, GI) into the clinic. Recently, we onboarded two new primary care providers to help meet the demand for our services including,notably, the clinic’s first transgender physician, bringing the number of providers to twelve.

The response

Reactions to the clinic have been more positive than I had even imagined. Often, patients start their first visit by expressing gratitude that the clinic was opened, even before we have provided them any care. Others express that their visit to the IHC was the first time they felt truly comfortable in a healthcare setting. Some are elated to begin their journey of gender affirmation easily and without barriers. Parents have been relieved to finally find a place where their adolescent children (we see patients age 15 and older) can get the care they need and have their questions answered. Community organizations and major corporations have invited us to speak about the clinic and a national conference requested that we present on the process of opening it. Patients travel from Milwaukee, throughout Wisconsin, and at least two neighboring states to see us. Our patients have been integral in providing feedback that has helped us improve. Some have pointed out the flaws in the multitude of systems and personnel that constitute their experience in our healthcare system. Some wish they didn’t have to wait so long to see us (thankfully, now, they don’t!). We are grateful for all types of feedback. We view this clinic as a community resource that should be continuously shaped and grown through input and feedback from the community we serve.

Do we really need a specialized LGBTQ+ clinic? Shouldn’t every provider be able to provide care to this population?

These are appropriately challenging questions that I heard several times during the journey to develop the IHC. In theory, the questioners are right. Ideally, all clinics and providers should be able to provide competent, comprehensive, and affirming care to LGBTQ+ patients. In reality though, without purposeful efforts in every clinic, staff members who create a welcoming environment, and providers who become culturally fluent and clinically competent delivering LGBTQ+ healthcare, patients will continue to have the kinds of negative experiences I described above.

Reaching beyond our walls

In addition to striving to be a center of excellence for LGBTQ+ healthcare, we also view the IHC as a catalyst for improving LGBTQ+ health in our region. We regularly provide clinical education on LGBTQ+ health to providers in our system and our state. This semester, our newly approved M4 elective in LGBTQ+ health began offering MCW students the chance to graduate with a more in-depth understanding of how to provide LGBTQ+ healthcare. We also regularly provide clinical experiences for MCW housestaff. I hope that with continued educational efforts, there will come a day when a clinic like the IHC is no longer needed. Until then, the IHC, and other clinics like it, are essential for the lives, health, and dignity of LGBTQ+ people.

It has been an honor to be able to bring the IHC into being. I couldn’t possibly name all the people whose support and hard work were essential in developing the clinic. Nonetheless, I am extremely grateful for their work and their encouragement. I am humbled by the passion and dedication of my colleagues in the clinic, both providers and staff members, and by the administrators from multiple departments who pour their hearts into supporting this multispecialty clinic.

Our work will continue. We see many ways to expand the size and scope of the clinic to better meet our patients’ needs and will continuously pursue these ideas. We will continue to solicit and react to our patients’ feedback with the goal of optimizing their care. We will continue to educate learners to populate the healthcare professions with competent and enthusiastic providers of LGBTQ+ healthcare. We will know we achieved our goal when every LGBTQ+ person can walk confidently, without fear or hesitation, into our clinic, and every medical clinic, and receive outstanding, complete care, with the dignity they deserve.

RESOURCES:

• If you want to learn more about the Inclusion Health Clinic, visit Froedtert.com/lgbtq

• If you are interested in having our group provide LGBTQ health training for your clinic or department, please contact me.

  
  

If you are interested in self-directed learning on LGBTQ health, I recommend the National LGBTQIA+ Health Education Center (https://www.lgbtqiahealtheducation.org/) which has dozens of high- quality learning modules.

Andrew Petroll, MS, MD, is a Professor in the Division of Infectious Diseases in the Department of Medicine at MCW. He is Medical Director of the Inclusion Health Clinic.