Yesterday in my public health seminar class, we watched a documentary from 2003 called My Flesh and Blood. It tells the story of Susan Tom of Fairfield, California and her brood of 13 children, including 11 adopted special needs children and 2 of her own. The documentary was deeply moving and watching the family was a roller coaster ride of emotions.
There were moments throughout the movie that were both painful and heartwarming to watch. But in the end, it left me thinking about life and the human spirit, and how it can be so incredible at times.
The whole film is on YouTube (separated into 10 clips). It’s 83 minutes long, but worth every minute. I highly encourage you to take a study or work break and take in this poignant movie.
Here’s the link to the first clip, and you can find the rest from there:
If The World Seems Cold To You, Kindle Fires To Warm It
Stumbled upon the words in this blog post’s title a few days ago and connected with them instantly. There are certainly times in my life when the world seemed cold to me. But I found comfort in trying to kindle fires to warm it, even if only for the attempt itself.
I always try to see “rejections” and “failures” as new opportunities. I mean, sulking won’t do any good. You gotta go out and make the change you want to see.
“If the world seems cold to you, kindle fires to warm it.” -Lucy Larcom
Where does this flame come from, you ask?
The fire from within.
This summer, I read an interesting book about cross-cultural issues in health care. The book, The Spirit Catches You and You Fall Down, revolves around the story of a Hmong girl in Merced and the problems that the family face when trying to navigate through the world of Western medicine and hospitals. It brings to light how extremely important cultural competency is to improving the way our health care system functions.
Interesting tidbit from the book about the way medicine is taught in America:
The desensitization starts on the first day of medical school, when each student is given a scalpel with which to penetrate his or her cadaver: ‘the ideal patient,’ as it is nicknamed since it can’t be killed, never complains, and never sues. The first cut is always difficult. Three months later, the students are chucking pieces of excised human fat into a garbage can as nonchalantly as if they were steak trimmings. The emotional skin-thickening is necessary–or so goes the conventional wisdom–becuase without it, doctors would be overwhelmed by their chronic exposure to suffering and despair. Dissociation is part of the job…
It’s a fascinating read, and I definitely recommend it.