Free Write Friday: Flight

A toddler is whimpering a few rows in front of me, the cries familiar but blessedly not emitting from one of my own children. Crystals form at the edge of the triple-paned window, a patchwork of tan fields replacing snow-capped mountains below.

I relish the window seat as we cross the country, no one chatting at me, no requirement to interact. The three women traveling alone in my row are not interested in conversing. We pull out our novels, our iPads, our Bluetooth headphones to mutually ignore via podcast. It feels luxurious, this solitude in flight, this lack of responsibility.

I do wonder about the strangers that fill the narrow seats behind me, that line the rows in front. What are they doing? Where are they going? Where are they from? Are they heading home or on vacation or on business? Are the cramped quarters with scant sustenance and stale recycled air an annoyance or a reprieve from daily monotony, the chores of home life?

I’m most curious about my seat mate but I don’t make small talk until we’ve almost landed. I saw her credit card when she bought a Tom Douglas chicken curry bowl deceptively wrapped in aluminum foil, reminiscent of a TV dinner. Block letters eked out “Fred Hutch,” indicating the large cancer research institute famous in the Northwest. I wonder, is she a MD, a PhD? Is she a researcher or a clinician? Does she have children?

Throughout the flight she studied a sheet of paper with neat type and mumbled quietly to herself. She must be giving a talk. I bet she’s a mom, no time to practice her lecture until she’s suspended 10,000 feet in the sky, away from the demands of making dinner and wiping noses, of sticky fingers and work reports and piles of laundry and school paperwork. I want to know her all of a sudden, understand who she is and where she’s going. I venture a question as the landing gear deploys below.

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Narrative Medicine Monday: Of Mothers and Monkeys

Caitlin Kuehn’s essay “Of Mothers and Monkeys” draws parallels between her research work with macaque monkeys and her mother receiving treatment for breast cancer in the same hospital. As her mother starts chemotherapy, Kuehn “rotate[s] between the animal ward and the human ward.”

Kuehn wrestles with the ethical ambiguity faced in animal research. Thinking of her own mother’s reaction to chemotherapy, she darts off to her work in the research lab, wondering “what animal first shared with my mother that sudden fear of a throat closing in… I realize that I—as a student, with very little power but a whole lot of responsibility—am complicit in a moral choice I have still not taken the time to make. Some days it is hard to remind myself that medical research has a purpose. Some days it is as clear as cancer. Some days I just do not know.”

When Kuehn’s mother needs injections to help boost her immune system after suffering from a serious sepsis infection, though Kuehn “could do a subcutaneous injection in the dark,” she becomes “shatteringly nervous” whenever she has to give her mother injections; the familiar activity takes on a different tone.

Kuehn’s mother begins to rely on her to answer medical questions, but Kuehn’s scientific expertise is limited to “what I have learned in my undergraduate science classes, or here at the lab. All of it applicable only to non-human mammals, or else too theoretical to be of any use for as intimate a need as this. I have no good answers.” I was struck by the fact that often, even for those of us who have extensive medical knowledge and training, we still lack “good answers” to those questions posed by suffering loved ones.

Kuehn has a strong reaction when her mother declares that she’s fighting her cancer for Kuehn and her sister: “She’s pushed her will to persevere off onto my sister and me. It’s too much pressure to be somebody else’s reason.” Have you ever been somebody else’s reason for fighting for survival? Did you have the same reaction as Kuehn to that kind of pressure?

Writing Prompt: At one point Kuehn responds to Domingo’s convulsions in the same comforting way she does when her own mother’s throat begins to swell during her chemotherapy: You’re going to be okay.  When a patient or loved one has been faced with a particularly challenging moment of illness, is there a mantra you’ve repeated to them? To yourself? Did it help? Write about the situation. Alternatively, reflect on Kuehn’s statement that “death is a condition of life.” Write for 10 minutes.

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