NPR, PBS Newshour, and The New Yorker recently featured Atul Gawande discussing the importance of primary care physicians who offer what he calls "incremental care." He cites statistics that show while primary care physicians are among the most poorly remunerated and least well treated by insurers, their care has the most profound impact on improving the quality of and length of our lives.
I saw my PCP a few days before reading and viewing Gawande. In his comments I recognized my own doctor. I've lived in many places, and I've had many physicians, but none has been a better listener and adviser than he is. I am one of the lucky ones.
I only wish in this time of healthcare uncertainty that every other citizen could have the same access to this basic human right: quality, continuing care. We'd all be better for it.
"People who daily expect to encounter fabulous realities run smack into them again and again. They keep their minds open for their eyes." (Ken Macrorie)
Showing posts with label NPR. Show all posts
Showing posts with label NPR. Show all posts
Sunday, January 22, 2017
Sunday, September 4, 2016
Visioning
I
What do you see in this picture?
And in this one?
A shadow and little stream in the first; a beautiful damselfly in the second.
I suspect you did not see this Great Spreadwing in the upper left of the first photo, but I did when I stood there this afternoon. I saw it because of my previous experiences and practiced vision.
II
I recently watched an episode of Morse with a scene in a stately home's picture gallery. On entering, the detective Morse said, "The pictures. Aren't they beautiful?" The gentleman in the room looked around at the paintings, turned, and replied, "Are they? I live here, so I know they're valuable. But I don't know their beauty. I can't see it." "Pity," Morse responded.
III
Keith Woods' refined and moving personal essay reminded me again of the different ways we see and feel depending on unique perspectives. The writer comes to new understanding about his father's complex relationship (and his own) to his "flawed homeland," not always visible to others.
IV
Even the essay's meaning and beauty were not visible to other commenters to the Facebook post of the essay.
I agree with Morse. Pity.
V
Aired on and published by NPR, the essay is well worth reading and hearing.
What do you see in this picture?
And in this one?
A shadow and little stream in the first; a beautiful damselfly in the second.
I suspect you did not see this Great Spreadwing in the upper left of the first photo, but I did when I stood there this afternoon. I saw it because of my previous experiences and practiced vision.
II
I recently watched an episode of Morse with a scene in a stately home's picture gallery. On entering, the detective Morse said, "The pictures. Aren't they beautiful?" The gentleman in the room looked around at the paintings, turned, and replied, "Are they? I live here, so I know they're valuable. But I don't know their beauty. I can't see it." "Pity," Morse responded.
III
Keith Woods' refined and moving personal essay reminded me again of the different ways we see and feel depending on unique perspectives. The writer comes to new understanding about his father's complex relationship (and his own) to his "flawed homeland," not always visible to others.
IV
Even the essay's meaning and beauty were not visible to other commenters to the Facebook post of the essay.
I agree with Morse. Pity.
V
Aired on and published by NPR, the essay is well worth reading and hearing.
Labels:
Abbo's Alley,
Facebook,
Great Spreadwing,
NPR,
seeing
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