The new world

I didn’t publish anything here last week. Last Wednesday I was typing up another entry for my own version of a round up essay, “Snacks of the Week,” that in part was going to list my favorite literal snacks in the hospital. I was typing away when details of new bombings in the middle east showed up on the news. My fingers first slowed and then stopped moving on the keyboard all together as the details of the attacks continued and my eyes drifted towards the TV screen. Reports of retaliation in the near future were anticipated. After that, the coverage pivoted to people at peaceful protests getting pelted by huge rubber bullets in Los Angeles, just for exercising their right to free speech and lawful protest.

My heart felt heavy. All of a sudden, it felt so pointless to write about something so frivolous. I felt completely out of touch with reality. I turned off the TV and tried to pick up where I left off, to get my fingers moving again on the keyboard. But writing about snacks felt trite and insincere. I paused. After a few minutes, I closed my computer. I was out of words.

These are dark times. Since last Wednesday, our authoritarian government has continued to extend its dark shadow over our country — and the world. News of terrible assassinations of public officials in Minnesota and videos of children being ripped from their mother’s arms all for the sake of upholding racist ideals are the headlines of the day. That was just one day, on our own soil.

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It feels a bit like we are living in a Harry Potter world. Bear with me here for a minute, and I apologize in advance for the analogy, and the now-problematic JK Rowling reference. For anyone who doesn’t know Harry Potter, at its core, it’s a story of good triumphing over evil. But it gets hellaciously dark before that triumph. When I read these books years ago as a young adult, I was looking for an escape. I assumed they would be a light read. But as I got deeper and deeper into this fantasy world, I just kept thinking as every tortuous event crossed the page, this has to be the worst of it for this kid. But after every loved one tragically died and the body count got higher, I wondered, how much darkness could Harry tolerate? When Dumbledore died, I thought that clearly had to be the end of it. This must the bottom. The turning point. The pendulum has to swing the other way towards the light. The good guys have to win at some point, right?

Right now, surrounded by the darkness of the current events every day in the United States, it’s starting to feel like we are living in a similar world. I’m waiting so desperately for that pendulum to swing the other way, towards the light. For the tide to change towards good, and acceptance. Except, this isn’t Harry Potter, and we don’t live in a fantasy world. It’s not just on the television or our Instagram feeds, it has come to our front door. This is real life. And right now, there is no way out of these horrors.

If you think these issues in the news cycle haven’t hit the hospital front door, too, you’re wrong. Beyond my personal moral distress, watching these events unfold has affected my life as a pediatric surgeon and how I can take care of patients. Hospitals have changed. It is not business as usual for any doctor. Patients with known surgical problems that need attention who come from families we knew had immigration appointments have disappeared and stopped answering their phones. These are families who, even in their resource restricted state, are reliable, show up, and call back, because they know their kid needs care. This silence leaves us wondering if they are okay, and if they have been snatched up by an ICE agent or deported.

I have patients who need surgery, but their parent’s visas are about to be revoked out of the blue, leaving us to come up with more urgent medical contingency plans, in case they are mandated to leave the country rapidly—rather than do what their kid actually needs. We as medical teams are writing letters to help advocate for our patients who desperately need care in these situations, trying to help them stay in the country. This care we provide for these children is, as you might guess, not readily available in many cases outside of the United States.

I have never before encountered these scenarios in my career, but they are happening at a frightening frequency and barely scratch the surface of how immigration policies are affecting our patients and their families. Never mind all the other government policies, including those related to vaccines, abortion, and transgender care, that are affecting our collective ability to take care of people.

Our hospital also can’t keep up with funding shortfalls that are a result of governmental actions. Hospitals were already understaffed and bursting at the seams with way too many patients for our small teams to care for adequately. Despite rooms being full, due to the combination of financial actions by the current government, like tariffs and funding cuts, hospitals are financially in the red. And don’t even get me started on this big stupid (I refuse to call it beautiful) bill. The implications for how we will, or rather won’t be able to function as a health care system are unimaginable. If our doors can’t stay open because of further massive decreases in governmental funding, which is a real possibility, that means more patients without access to the lifesaving care we provide.

I don’t understand this new world we are living in. Except, this actually isn’t a new world. This is the old world, except now, the racists and the misogynists and the transphobes are emboldened; violence is king. But this is what the United States was founded on. Hatred, inequality, and violence. It’s baked into every fiber of our history and courses through this country’s veins. It might have been less conspicuous in prior times, but only if you didn’t want to see it. Maybe racism was less “popular” before, but it’s always been there.

Now, the curtain is open, it’s all in plain sight.

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I understand that there is no white knight in our future. No good wizard will magic away what we are currently living in. But what I have decided is, we have something better than magic. We have each other. We have spirit, and fight, and what’s right on our side. As a collective people, I know with every fiber of my being that we will not give up. I saw examples of this, all weekend. Protests all over the country. Millions of people fighting, peacefully, for a better future and not taking this government rhetoric of white nationalism as our own. This is what we need, more community, more organization, more standing up for each other. That is better than any white knight. Because it’s real.

As for me, when I think about what I can do, or how I can help, it’s easy to get overwhelmed. The best I have landed on is that I am going to keep writing and keep showing up for my patients. They can pry my right to free speech — and my right to help those I took an oath to protect — from the cold dead fingers on my keyboard.

I’m also starting to believe that nothing is frivolous — especially not food, or joy, or the small ways we come together when things are bleak. I believe we will get through this darkness, despite my intermittent doubts and faltering hope. I want to help fight for that new world I know we have in us — and to help put that old world into its grave for good.