a trembling voice, a deep sigh, and a shared memory

I always run out of something I need at Christmas. You know...gift wrap, tape, butter, sprinkles. This year, though, I was especially careful to stock up because I knew I couldn't just dash to the store for every little thing. In fact, I haven't been to the store in weeks thanks to the Covid-19 pandemic...and thanks to people who risk their lives delivering everything I need right to my door. Safely. Thank you very much.

"What you stock up on

tells a lot about you."

~Shilpa Ahuja~

Still, I did come up short on a couple of things. As expected, I ran out of gift tags, ribbon, and bows. I did not, however, anticipate running out of sympathy cards.

I usually pick up a few at a time when I think of it. You never know when you'll need one. The problem is I needed quite a few this year. One for a friend who lost her husband because of diabetes and heart failure, unrelated to Covid. I sent a Christmas card to a childhood friend of mine, and her husband wrote back to tell me she had passed way earlier in the year. A couple of patients and other friends passed on, as well. Which is why I ran out of cards.

"Make sure you stock up

on compassion."

~unknown~

Yesterday, I learned that another friend had died. He was diagnosed with Covid a couple of weeks ago, and succumbed the day after Christmas. His wife worked in our office for many years, and like me, she retired a while back. I haven't seen her or spoken to her for a couple of years. Still, I wanted to send her a card so I was surprised and disappointed to discover I'd run out. I could have sent her an email, or a text message, or I could have penned a short note, instead of running out for a card. But I didn't. I tracked down her phone number, and I called her. It was the right thing to do. 

As lovely as a card can be, I find standard sympathy messages too often trite, or unfitting, or poorly conceived. On the other hand, a trembling voice, or a deep sigh, or a shared memory is not only heard, but felt. Not just felt, but embodied. Not just embodied, but preserved until we can reconnect face to face, and heart to heart as soon as it is safe. The spoken word isn't cast aside to molder in a drawer somewhere. It grows, and deepens, and aches like the longing we feel for one another.

"Words mean more than what is

set down on paper.

It takes the human voice to infuse them

with deeper meaning."

~Maya Angelou~

Worldwide, almost 2 million people have already died of Covid-19. The numbers are climbing. Soon, there may not be enough sympathy cards to go around. What will you do then? What will you say instead? How will you say it?

"Empty hands are easier to hold."

~from CWPoet~

jan

how will we get through this?

If you weren't downright bipolar before the Covid-19 pandemic struck, you might be tending in that direction now, torn, as we are, between fear, and the bravery it takes just to make it through the day. Between periods of chaos, and moments of peace. Between utter despair, and a faint glimmer of hope. Between anger and gratitude. Sorrow and surrender.

"I'm not bipolar.

I've just had a bipolar life

foisted uopn me."

~www.healthyplace.com~

We are already almost a year into this, and there is no end in sight. How will we make it through? And who will we be when we come out on the other side?

"Life can be like an emotional roller coaster

with its ups and downs.

What matters is whether you are keeping

your eyes open or closed

during the ride..."

~Ana Ortega~

Like our eyes, it is important to discern whether our hearts are open or closed to this journey. How are we coping? In Buddhism there are four fundamental practices that are designed to open the heart: lovingkindness, compassion, empathetic joy, and EQUANIMITY:

"Equanimity: mental calmness, 

composure, and evenness of temper,

especially in a difficult situation."

~from word-struck~

As Jack Kornfield puts it, "Equanimity arises when we accept the way things are." He doesn't suggest we give up in the face of adversity, or we passively accept or embrace whatever comes our way in life. He doesn't encourage denial, or indifference, or surrender. He means we acknowledge reality, and reflect deeply on the truth. Then we act out of lovingkindness, rather than giving way to our habitual tendency to judge, blame, retaliate, or cling to resentment and anger. This is not an function of the intellect, a decision we make, or a promise we commit to. It is a practice. A process. A way of life.

"When you find your center

you will not be drawn to someone else's storm.

Instead they will be drawn

to your peace."

~Becky Bro~ 

What if you could find a way to get off the emotional roller coaster that takes you nowhere? Wouldn't you leave the track that carries you in circles, up the same steep hills, down the same scary slopes, around the same unpredictable curves, again and again?

Imagine what it would feel like to escape the anger, fear, and confusion that habitually repeats itself in your life. To tear up the ticket that gets you through the gate to envy, despair, and fury as we head into the uncertain future.

What if, instead, you could be steadfast and strong? Peaceful and calm. Wise and reflective. What if you could bring the whole bipolar ride to a grinding halt? 

How would you do that? How will you make it through? Who will you become?

As Poe put it:

"Deep into that darkness peering,

long I stood there,

wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming,

dreams no mortal being

ever dared to dream before."

~Edgar Allan Poe~

jan

how to resuscitate a beating heart

The Covid-19 pandemic has challenged health care providers in ways we never anticipated. From the shortage of PPE, to the lack of ventilators, to the failure of leadership at the highest levels, we have witnessed defeat every step of the way. We thought our health care system was infallible only to discover gaping insufficiencies in our knowledge and preparedness. Now we question our ability to deliver care as we confront another massive surge in hospitalizations when we are facing a shortage of trained ICU nurses and techs. Who are already exhausted. Who are already beyond overworked. Who are totally tapped out. This is a problem because, let me assure you, we need them.

Look at this:

caixinglobal.com

The ICU staff is responsible for settng up this kind of equipment. For making sure all the wires and tubes are connected properly. For adjusting IVs, and administering meds. For knowing when the patient is in trouble, and when to summon help. Not many people are trained or adept at this kind of work under the best of circumstances...when they are well rested, and fed, and focused. But many of them are not. The influx of Covid-19 patients means they are rushed. They have to skip meals. They have to work multiple shifts without a break. There is no one they can call in to take over for them. I know I couldn't, which is why I want to remind all nurses that I believe:

"You're braver than you believe,

and stronger than you seem,

and smarter than you think."

~Christopher Robin~

Believe me, I know what it's like to be just that tired and hungry and frantic. I remember falling asleep at the nurses' station as my pen trailed on off the page while I was writing orders. I recall pilfering crackers and jello that were meant for patients in the middle of the night. I dozed off during lectures and on rounds. Trust me...you do not want your doctors and nurses to be exhausted, anxious, and frustrated if you end up in the ICU because you picked up Covid somewhere...

...which is why we should all continue to isolate as much as possible. We should wear a mask whenever we venture out and keep it on wherever we go, government mandate or not. We should wash our hands long, hard, and often. We should assure our family and friends we love them and miss seeing them. We should exercise compassion. We should use our brains. We should take every precaution to protect our family, friends, and neighbors. Our children. And our nurses, because:

"America's nurses are the beating heart

of our medical system."

~Barack Obama~

jan

who we remember and why it matters

I practiced family medicine for over thirty years. I cared for thousands of patients with everything from common colds and itchy rashes, to life-threatening chest pain and end-stage cancer. From birth to death. From morning to night. Like all health care providers do.

We record our patients’ stories. We invade their privacy and probe their bodies. We formulate a differential diagnosis and subject them to sometimes painful testing and treatment. Through it all, we provide encouragement. We embody hope. We offer solace. We confront suffering. We celebrate healing.

"The best way to find yourself

is to lose yourself in the service of others."

~Mahatma Gandhi~

It’s no wonder, then, that we carry their stories with us. That, years later, we still remember people we encountered only briefly, not because their stories were particularly gruesome or traumatic or heartbreaking (although many were), nor because their recovery was so extraordinary (sometimes miraculous), but because we took our time with them. We learned from them and we used what they taught us for the rest of our careers. Or, perhaps, we failed them, and still can’t forgive ourselves.

Trust me…for any but the most trivial office encounter, patients remember us, too. How we dressed. If our hands were cold. The smell of cigarette smoke on our breath. Whether or not we made eye contact. They read the expression on our faces and our body language. They sensed when we were hurried. They knew if we were listening.

"Give whatever you are doing
and whoever you are with
the gift of your attention."
~Jim Rohn~

I remember certain patients because I was touched by the suffering they endured, or by the strength they demonstrated, or by wisdom they embraced. I hope they remember me because of the time I spent with them, the compassion I felt, and the knowledge I shared.

Which patients do you remember?

“There is no such thing
as an ordinary human.”
~Stephen Moffat~

How do they remember you?

"I've learned that people will forget
what you said,
people will forget what you did,
but people will never forget
how you made them feel."
~Maya Angelou~

jan

      

 

 

 

 

 

 





how to make peace with what you imagine

 

November 14, 2020

Last week I was reading some of the metaphysical stuff I love when I came across a statement that caught my attention. It came out of a study that posited the best predictor of impending death is not the actual state of your health, but an unprovoked preoccupation with thoughts about death, even among people who are feeling fine. It concerned me because I've been thinking a lot about death recently. Who hasn't been? Every day we are confronted with its cruel reality. You can’t turn on the news without thinking about the thousands who have crossed this threshold in just the past few months. Souls who had never given death a thought.

"If I'm going to die, the best way to prepare

is to quiet my mind and open my heart.

If I'm going to live, the best way to prepare

is to quiet my mind and open my heart."

~Ram Dass~

My preoccupation with death went farther than that, though. For reasons I didn't understand, I pulled out my files on "green" burial. I found myself making a mental note of what of music I would select if my family and friends held a service of some kind for me. I searched for poetry I thought reflected my beliefs (hint: it doesn't have anything to do with heaven or hell). 

"The sun sets and the moon sets,

but they are not gone."

~Rumi~

But it went even deeper than that. I went really metaphysical with death itself. Not the burial, nor the corruption of the body, but the concept and nature of the afterlife. I reflected on issues I usually avoid, and tackled the contradictory teachings that have always left me confused and frustrated. I'm happy to say that I found the answers to some of the questions I have spent a lifetime seeking in all the wrong places. Something I can believe in. A portal to eternity.

"In the depth of your hopes and desires

lies your silent knowledge of the beyond;

and like seeds dreaming beneath the snow

your heart dreams of spring.

Trust the dreams, for in them is hidden

the gate to eternity...

And when you have reached the mountaintop,

then shall you begin to climb.

And when the earth shall claim your limbs,

then shall you truly dance."

~Kahlil Gibran~

It worried me when I came across the study that predicted my impending demise, but I'm feeling better about it, now. I realize that this unusual preoccupation with death has less to do with me than it has to do with my children and grandchildren, and with the friends I will eventually leave behind. Eventually, being the operative word. I want them to know that I no longer dread aging, or fear death. That they don't have to worry about me. That I am at peace with what I imagine will become of me. Which is the best I think we can do...imagine it. Like this:

jan

empty-handed and broken-hearted

 

I learned something new today. This is reason to celebrate because some people like to joke about my incipient dementia. At least, I think they’re joking.

I was contemplating the theme for this post, “primum non nocere,” and its English translation—“First do no harm.”—when I learned that this saying has nothing to do with the Hippocratic Oath. I'd forgotten that. When I graduated from medical school, I took the Hippocratic Oath, so I should have known. It actually comes from Hippocrates’ writings in “Epidemics”: “The physician must…do no harm.” These words are the bedrock of medical ethics and practice even today.

In fact, many of the traditions that influence the way we practice modern medicine were passed down to us by men like Hippocrates. Not because women were excluded from the practice of the healing arts in ancient Greece. On the contrary, way back then, women were highly respected as physicians and healers. Even Plato held them in esteem. Though they were few in number, patients sought them out. They were regarded as the “wise women” of the community. Their “soft hands” were considered to be “healing hands”.

“Have a heart that never hardens,

a temper that never tires,

a touch that never hurts."

~Charles Dickens~

 

But as the science of medicine advanced, the feminine ethic lost credibility. Its wisdom and power to heal were disdained in favor of dispassionate technical expertise—testing, procedures, and proofs. Today speed and efficiency reign, and reimbursement issues drive the system. Over time, tradition has suffered, and as a result, patient care has suffered.

 

Unfortunately, one of the time-honored traditions that did survive is the one that expressly prohibits the physician from entering into a personal relationship of any description with a patient. This, of course, is an impossibility. It disavows the emotional intimacy that is the inevitable fruit of shared suffering. It contradicts the compassionate physician’s experience and denies him a powerful tool.

Today, the physician is taught that it is unprofessional to share his personal experience, insight, beliefs, or values with the patient. This rule of non-engagement was hammered into our heads during training when we were still easily moved to empathy, at a time when connectedness with other human beings was still something to be desired and defended.

“The good physician treats the disease.

The great physician treats the patient

who has the disease.”

~William Osler~

 

Sadly, this means that patients may know more about their hairdresser or mechanic than they know about their doctor—the person they trust with their health, with their children’s health, with their lives. This can be troubling for patients. They may have little choice when it comes to selecting a physician, and except for the credentials displayed on the walls in his office, they may know nothing at all about him. They worry about it and they should. Is he competent? Is he caring? What motivated him to undertake years of grueling study and training? What sustains him? What is it like for his family? How does he manage it all?

 

This precedent distances us from our patients at times in their lives when what they may need from us more than anything else—more than another prescription or another test or another procedure—is our presence with them, our strength, our compassion and support especially at times of serious illness and suffering. At times when fear and grief cut deep. At times when they may need to understand that nothing more can be done for them…or for someone they love—a friend, a spouse, or a child.

When our patients need us the most—that is, when there is little hope for recovery—we are trained to turn their care over to the nurses, their family, their pastor, or to hospice. We leave the patient’s bedside the way we approached it—as a stranger. We lose sight of the greatest gifts we can offer as healers—our time and attention. Our presence. Our touch.

“Some patients,

though conscious that their condition is perilous,

recover their health simply through their contentment

with the goodness of the physician.”

~Hippocrates (460-400 BC)~

 

We leave the bedside empty-handed, and sometimes broken-hearted.

 

“Tell me your story,

show me your wounds,

and I’ll show you what Love sees

when Love looks at you.

Hand me the pieces,

broken and bruised,

and I’ll show you what Love sees

when Love sees you.”

~from “When Love Sees You”~

~lyrics by Mac Powell~

jan

 



don't provoke the beast

 So, this happened:

I've been working on a project through a site called "Storyworth." Every week they send a writing prompt and you submit a short piece in response, usually a brief memoir or autobiographical ditty. At the end of the year, you have 52 stories they assemble into a book you can give to your children or grandchildren for Christmas. It includes topics like "What was your favorite candy when you were a child," and "Did you have any pets when you were a child?" Nothing too deep.

Last week I tackled this one: What Is One of Your Earliest Childhood Memories?"

I'd been avoiding the topic because my earliest memories date back to my hospitalization with rheumatic fever when I was three years old. What fun is that? I've written about it before. In fact, I published a brief memoir about the ordeal a couple of years ago. I have analyzed the experience in detail from every perspective over the years. I thought I was at peace with it.

I jotted down a few lines and then I went on-line to search for a couple of pictures. I found an image of The Children's Hospital of Buffalo, where I spent two weeks when I got sick. 

Then I found this:

www.ECMC.edu

This is a photograph from the Acute Scarlet Fever Ward at the hospital, and it made me catch my breath. It is exactly as I remember the ward I was in. Except that it was taken many years before my admission there, that little girl could be me. That was where my bed was in the ward. In the bed next to me was a boy about five years old. Back then the nurses wore stiff white uniforms, and they were proud to wear the official nursing caps they worked so hard to earn. I remember it all, but I did not expect the gut-punch I took when I saw this picture. It brought me to tears, it was so uncannily real to me. 

It made me wonder where that emotion has been hiding all these years, and why I felt it so viscerally when I saw this image.

It turns out we store memories in different ways. Narrative memory is the story we tell about what happened to us. Visceral memory expresses the sensory and emotional experience of the story without using words. It's what we feel, physically and emotionally, when the memory emerges. Fear. Sorrow. Anger. A racing heart. Sweaty palms. Nausea. 

"Trauma comes back as a reaction,

not as a memory."

~Bessel van der Kolk~

It's important for health care providers to understand the difference. I can describe the ward where I was hospitalized in great detail. I can tell you about the other children who were there with me. I remember the toys and books I kept at my bedside. I can tell you the whole story calmly and accurately, as though it were no big deal. In fact, I can narrate my entire medical history without blinking an eye. But there's more to it than that. Apparently, something else is still stored away inside, unwilling to be acknowledged and released. Something that still needs to heal.

When a patient presents with anxiety or depression that doesn't seem to fit the picture, or his symptoms don't respond to treatment, think about unresolved childhood trauma. When he senses a racing heart but his EKG is normal, or his headaches won't go away, go back in time with him. What triggers it? A certain song? The scent of his mother's cologne? The sight of a needle? Or like me, a random photograph he came across on-line? 

Narrative memory may be clear and accurate while visceral memory lurks in the shadows. Without warning, an innocent trigger can release a lifetime of unexpected emotion that can wreak havoc on the body. If you're a healthcare provider and things don't add up, go back. Try again.

"I may look peaceful,

but don't provoke the beast."

~Gautham Balaji~

jan

the scars that are hardest to heal

 

Those of us who support the narrative medicine/narrative healing movement would like you to believe that the simple (or not so simple) act of telling your story and knowing it has been heard can bring about healing. How does that happen?

"I will soothe you and heal you.

I will bring you roses.

I, too, have been covered with thorns."

~Rumi~

Perhaps something like this has happened to you:

You wake up and it's a beautiful day. The sun is shining. Your bills are paid. The laundry is done. You pick up a good book and head out to the porch to read. But you can't concentrate. You sense a heaviness in your chest, and you can't stop sighing. You're tired, even though you haven't done much all day. You feel a certain sadness but you don't have anything to be sad about. Your neighbor sees you and comes over to say hello. She immediately senses something is wrong. You shrug her off, and then it hits you. This is where you were sitting when you heard the screeching tires that you knew meant trouble. This is the same kind of beautiful September day you lost your dog on the street in front of your house. Seventeen years ago. 

"If you never heal from what hurt you,

you'll bleed on people who did not cut you."

~Karen Salmonsohn~

Or, you go out for the mail and in it is an invitation to your friend's baby shower. You burst into tears. Because you never got to have a baby shower. You lost the baby before anyone knew you were pregnant, so you never told anyone. Or maybe you were never able to get pregnant in the first place. And your arms feel so empty.

Or, maybe your story plays out like this. You didn't mean to put a dent in the fender the first time you took the car out alone when you were sixteen. Your father told you to be careful when he handed you the keys, and you promised you would. Then, a ball rolled out into the street and to avoid it, you swerved and grazed a tree in someboby's yard. You knew you'd be in trouble when you got home, but you didn't expect a beating for it. I mean, you were being careful, and it wasn't your fault. But your dad had been drinking that day, and when he saw what had happened, he hauled off and bloodied your nose, and gave you a huge swollen black eye. In school the next day, you told the teacher you'd slipped and fallen down the basement stairs. And that was the end of it, but not really. Now your heart races and your head throbs and you break out in a sweat every time your own son takes the car out. And you don't know why.

"The scars you can't see

are the hardest to heal."

~Unknown~

If you sometimes react to situations in ways that don't make sense, or you can't explain why you feel sad, or tired, or anxious, or people often ask you what's wrong, your untold story may be hiding in the shadows, playing tricks on you. Because until you call it by name you may not know it's lurking there.

When you give your story a title, and describe how it unfolded, you may begin to understand why it still disturbs your peace after all these years. If someone you trust is listening, you may come away with an entirely fresh perspective on it. You may be able to forgive yourself, or the person who hurt you. You may be able to cast aside some of the things you've always imagined were wrong with you, but never were. Your energy may improve, your headaches may lessen, your heart may open. 

If your story has been under lock and key for years, or you've forgotten where you left it, or you can't imagine finding the words to express it, you should consider getting back to work on it. Somebody else may need to hear it.

"Just because no one can heal you 

or do your inner work for you

doesn't mean you can, or should, or need to

do it alone."

~Lisa Olivera~

jan

a healing presence

 

 

True story:

 

When the nursing home called, my mother was already on her way to the emergency room. She’d been experiencing a deep cough and increasing shortness of breath for two days. When her oxygen levels fell to dangerously low levels, her doctor ordered her off to the hospital.

 

I left as soon as I got the call, hoping to get there ahead of her because, by this point in her decline, my mother had lost the ability to speak. She didn’t suffer from dementia. Rather, her inability to communicate was the cumulative result of multiple small strokes. I knew she would be scared and confused, and ultimately frustrated by her inability to express herself. As sick as she was, she would be unable to give her medical history or answer questions. Nevertheless, I had no doubt she would receive excellent care—the ER staff would start an IV, administer oxygen, get a chest X-ray (and a scan if needed), draw her blood, and monitor her vital signs. She would receive antibiotics, or medications for her heart, or anticoagulants depending on the test results (pneumonia vs heart failure vs pulmonary embolism). If worse came to worse, she would be intubated. The doctors and nurses would do everything they could for her automatically and efficiently, without a second thought. Without knowing a thing about her.

"You treat a disease: you win, you lose.

You treat a person: I guarantee you win."

~Patch Adams~

When I got to the emergency room, my mother was sucking down oxygen via IPPB. She was weak and pale, but alert. The minute I pulled the curtain back and stepped to her bedside, she relaxed. A faint smile of recognition and relief appeared. She closed her eyes and squeezed my hand as if to say healing could now begin.

"A kind gesture can reach a wound

that only compassion can heal."

~Steve Mariboli~

I kept an eye on the monitors that surrounded her bed while I sat with her and explained what was happening and why. I requested an extra blanket for her. I answered the nurses’ questions. I ached to know the results of the tests the doctors had run, what her diagnosis was, what was in store for her. Through it all, I kept a smile on my face while all the worst-case scenarios played out in my imagination.

"Isn't it fascinating

how long a few minutes can seem

when you are completely alone 

with not a familiar face in sight?"

~Kirby Larson~

 

Imagine the relief I felt when the ER physician returned to check on her…when he drew the curtain aside and I recognized a trusted colleague, a man I knew to be compassionate, gentle, and wise. Like my mother did when she saw me, I relaxed as soon as I saw him. I smiled with a deep sense of relief and gratitude. I could talk to this man and I knew he would listen. He would treat my mother like his own, and me like a sister. As if we were family. I felt as though healing had already begun.

*

This story is intended to convey the healing power of the personal relationship between the physician, the patient, and the patient's family…the sense of relief a familiar face can bring when everything else is foreign and frightening to the patient. It speaks to the importance of trust and confidence in the healer’s character and expertise. It should remind us to regard every patient with compassion, and to treat every patient with the same respect, kindness, and care we would extend to our best friend, and to our own family members.

This story should also remind us that patients with Covid are admitted to the hospital alone and scared. They are not permitted a familiar face at the bedside. Many have died there alone. 

None of us can change this reality, but we can always offer a gentle touch, and a kind word, and we can serve as a healing presence to all.

"I've learned that people will forget

what you said.

People will forget what you did,

but they will never forget

how you made them feel."

~Maya Angelou~ 

jan

 

spoiler alert: this is an unabashed political post

 

If you're anything like me when it comes to politics, or to religion for that matter, you may hesitate to add your voice to the din out there. After all, what can you add that hasn't already been said a thousand times? What can you say that will change anyone's mind? Why engage in the drama?

This is my question: Why not?

Consider this:

"The only thing necessary

for the triumph of evil,

is for good men to do nothing."

~Edmund Burke~

And this:

"Our lives begin to end

the day we become silent

about things that matter."

~Martin Luther King, Jr.~

With this in mind, this week I decided to do something. I decided to break my silence. Here is the letter I plan to mail to every Republican member of Congress this week in an effort to make my thoughts known, even though nothing may come of it. Evil may still triumph, but these are issues that matter to me:

Janet F. Cincotta, M.D.

2254 Old Hollow Road

Mechanicsburg, PA 17055

717.574.7357

drmomjfc@gmail.com

 

The Honorable (full name)
(room #) (name) Senate Office Building
United States Senate
Washington, DC 20510

 

September 25, 2020

 

Dear Senator (last name):

 

I am fearful about the conduct, legitimacy, and impact of the up-coming 2020 presidential election. I am writing to you in an effort to understand what inspires you to embrace the crippling politics of Donald J. Trump in his quest for re-election.

 

I am a Family Physician with over thirty years of experience in private practice, so I know something about the issues that impact the availability and affordability of health care. I understand the management of medical and public health emergencies including disaster relief and pandemic mitigation efforts. I know a lot about the sanctity of women’s bodies.

 

I am also the mother of three adult children, and a grandmother to three youngsters whose future worries me. It is a challenge to teach them that it is unacceptable to mock and demean people, that it is wrong to lie and cheat, and it is shameful to bully when these are the behaviors they observe in the president of our country. How will they regard honesty, compassion, and kindness when what they witness is deception, cruelty, and indifference?

 

We have witnessed the violation of basic human rights, the corruption of justice, and a surge in violence and outright fear among our most vulnerable citizens, all in just the past four years. As the election approaches, we fear for our democracy. We worry about war.

 

This is not the America you and I grew up in. It is not the same country that bestowed upon us a path to success, security, and peace. How can we deny it to others?

 

I am one of the lucky ones, and you may be, too. I am not a woman of color, so I am not confronted with racial discrimination. Instead, I harbor deep respect and affection for friends and colleagues who are. I do not live in poverty, so I am able to give freely. Even though I am not a member of the LGBTQ community, I support and defend my friends who are. I have never broken the law, promoted hatred, or instigated violence.

 

Instead, I have cared for and supported my family and friends. I have served my community with dedication and compassion. I have done my part to protect the environment, and the life that depends on it. I believe in the principles of humility, honesty, inclusivity, and generosity.

 

What about you? Do you feel powerless to change the course of history as it is being written in our lifetime? Why are you afraid to stand up to liars and cheaters? Why are you intimidated by men who are arrogant and greedy? Has your heart hardened against the humanity you are part of? Against the environment your survival depends upon? What scares you about defending the rights of the poor, the sick, and the suffering? What prevents you from acting out of dignity, purpose, and principle? What about your children, and your grandchildren? What will happen to them?

 

You took an oath of office. You solemnly swore that you would support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that you would bear true faith and allegiance to it; that you took this obligation freely, without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion; and that you would well and faithfully discharge the duties of the office to which you were about to enter. Then you swore to it: “So help me God.”

 

The Constitution you pledged to uphold begins like this:

 

“We, the People of the United States, in Order to form a more perfect Union, establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common defence, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United States of America.”

 

When did you change your mind?

 

For the sake of my family and yours, out of compassion for all who suffer, for the preservation of our democracy, and for the sake of peace, I implore you to reconsider your support of the Republican leadership in the upcoming election. Do what you know to be honorable, compassionate, and just, or explain to us why you refuse.

 

Thank you for your attention and consideration.

 

Yours truly,

Janet F Cincotta, M.D.

Please feel free to copy and paste this letter, or to paraphrase it, or to write and mail your own letter if you are moved to do so. Please, just do something.

"Do what you can,

with what you have,

where you are."

~Theodore Roosevelt~

Here is a list of republican senators and their Washington addresses:

https://www.270towin.com/elected-officials/contact-us-senators

Thank you for doing whatever you can!

jan