Stories of Humankindness

When I arrived at the Barrow Neurological Institute in Phoenix, my first rotation was cerebral angiography. I had recently completed my residency at Vancouver General Hospital in Canada and was starting my fellowship at the foremost neuroscience center in the world. On the angiography rotation, Friday mornings were busy because we had to complete patient rounds before our 8 AM grand rounds. It was one such Friday, early in my fellowship, that shaped my career. 

That morning two of my patients were from foreign countries. Each had flown to Barrow to receive superior neurological care; one was from South America, and the other was from the Middle East. I remember a certain gratifying feeling as I reviewed their charts. I felt incredibly fortunate to be training at a medical center so advanced that people from across the globe would travel to, for care. I completed my patient visits and proudly headed towards our grand rounds lecture hall.

I was a few minutes late, and the presentation was already underway. I had missed the speaker introduction, and as I settled into my seat something seemed out of place: the presenter was a nun. She was talking about certain “vulnerable populations” of children with uncontrolled diabetes living on Indian reservations in Arizona. The presentation focused on a community benefits program sponsored by the Women Religious of our health system, which was offering free care for those children. I don’t remember the details of her presentation, but her closing comment has stayed with me through the years. She leaned into the microphone and in a gentle voice said “Please remember, there are many poor and disenfranchised individuals that are born, live and die never having seen a physician in their lifetime.”

The lecture hall emptied, and I remained in my seat grappling with the juxtaposing contrast of my morning. On the one hand, I was training at a medical center that was performing sophisticated procedures no-one else could, and on the other hand, that same organization was delivering free medical care no one else would. Years later, I can be honest with myself and say that until that morning I had not even realized I was training at a not-for-profit organization focused on caring for the whole person and all people, especially the poor and vulnerable.

What I learned that morning was that compassion and excellence must co-exist in a healthcare system. We cannot have centers of excellence across town from institutions that offer compassionate care to the poor. For healthcare to hold its noble place in society, these two attributes must both be present in the same organization. Dignity Health embodies that principle, and so I have remained at the same organization since that memorable day.