IBD Icons: A New Awareness Campaign From American Idol Contestant Casey Abrams & The Crohn's & Colitis Foundation Of America (Voting Ends Soon!)

Who loves American Idol?


If you're a loyal fan, you probably know the name Casey Abrams. Casey was a Season 10 American Idol contestant and won the hearts of many across the country with his smooth jazz vocals and skills on the bass. During the summer 2011 American Idol Tour, Casey began investing in a cause that is close to his heart: a new awareness campaign and contest called IBD Icons for inflammatory bowel disease (IBD), which includes Crohn’s disease and ulcerative colitis (UC).

Despite his own diagnosis and struggle with UC, Casey finished in sixth place on season 10 of American Idol to earn a coveted spot on the 2011 summer tour.

Casey has teamed up with the Crohn’s and Colitis Foundation of America (CCFA) for IBD Icons to inspire people living with IBD to pursue their dreams. Through the campaign, IBD patient have had an opportunity to share their success stories for a chance to win the title of IBD Icon and a trip to see Casey perform at the Zappos.com Rock ‘n’ Roll Las Vegas Marathon & ½ Marathon to benefit the CCFA.

The top nine finalists have been chosen, and the public can now vote for the candidate they find most inspiring. Two winners - one with UC and one with Crohn's - will be voted the 2011 IBD Icons. For every vote cast, Janssen Biotech, Inc. will donate $1 to the CCFA for IBD research and education. I was lucky enough to interview one of these incredible finalists, and today you'll see her inspiring answers!

Katie Jeter-Boldt, a finalist from Kansas City, Missouri, shared her personal story of life with IBD. Her story began on a sunny August day nearly 13 years ago, when her father died from complications related to Crohn’s disease. Four years later she was diagnosed with Crohn’s disease, a diagnosis later changed to ulcerative colitis, another form of IBD.

When Katie received her diagnosis, she thought her life would be cut short. She attended college on a Navy ROTC scholarship and was not sure what affect her diagnosis would have on her plans to serve as an officer in the Navy.  At the time, she even told her fiancé (now her husband) that he could break off the engagement, as she did not want him to experience the pain this disease inflicts upon family members.  He refused to do so, and stuck by her as they weathered her illness, her medical disqualification from military service, a sea of medical bills, and countless insurance claims. Inevitably, they established news goals and a direction for their life together as husband and wife.

Katie found new hope and inspiration from her experience and decided to apply her skills and abilities in order to help others. She has since become an attorney.

Katie misses her Dad every day. His absence is a continual reminder that she needs to do what she can, when she can. She says, “UC may be a part of who I am, but it does not completely define me…Live for now. Find joy in the beauty of everyday life.  Enjoy the good times when they come in order to get through the bad times.” 

Katie signed up on the IBD Icons website to share her story of life with an IBD, and hopes that people vote for her to win and find inspiration from her story. And now, please enjoy this wonderful interview with Katie...

When were you first diagnosed and how old were you ?

I was first diagnosed in August 2002, just two weeks before my 22nd birthday.  As fate would have it, this was my very first day of my senior year of college and was only days before the anniversary of my dad's death from Crohn's complications.  I had started showing symptoms about a year and a half before my diagnosis, but kept being told that I didn't "look" sick and that I was too active and otherwise healthy to have IBD!  

What would you tell someone who has been newly diagnosed with your condition and/or a chronic illness in general?

One of the biggest things is to find a doctor who will work with you with treatments and to manage symptoms.  Not everyone's illness has the same set of symptoms.  One of the hardest things for me has been to learn what my body's signals are so that I can adjust my routine to allow it to heal.  That has taken time and I'm certainly still learning, even 9 years from my diagnosis.  Having a chronic illness has changed my life and has caused me to adjust my goals somewhat, but there are still more things I can do than things I can't.  It may mean being flexible about my goals, but I can still set goals and achieve them.  Chronic illness has changed my life, but it hasn't kept me from living my life on my terms.  I run half-marathons and am hoping to run a full marathon this spring.  I also hiked my first "fourteener" this summer when my husband and I summited Quandary Peak, just outside of Breckenridge, Colorado.  I think that's what prompted me the most to submit my story for consideration as an "IBD Icon"--when I was diagnosed I felt like I'd been given a death sentence, given my dad's history.  If I had seen these stories of successful people living with these illnesses, I think it would have given me tremendous hope during a dark period of my life.  I wanted to be that hope for someone else and to raise money for research.  Treatment has advanced so much since my dad was diagnosed 25+ years ago and I am certainly reaping the benefits of those advancements.  It is exciting to think how much more treatment will advance in another 25 years with the proper funding.

Please explain a bit how your condition affects you. 

One thing I have learned over time is that stress is my biggest trigger.  I'm a very competitive Type A attorney, so stress is a natural part of my life.  In order to keep my disease under control, I have to control that stress.  I discovered a few years back that I love running and that it really helps me relieve stress.  Also, I need my sleep--I really prioritize 8 hours of sleep.  Even so, sometimes the disease acts up.  My major symptom is GI bleeding, which can lead to anemia.  In the past, I've received blood transfusions because of loss of blood.  The fatigue is really hard for me to deal with because it brings me to a complete stop.  I've learned that when that happens, I just have to let go and rest so that I can fight another day. 

Where do you get your strength?

My strength comes from so many sources.  My family and friends are fantastic supporters.  I'm married to a wonderful man who understands when I'm having a bad day.  When I was diagnosed, I actually told him that he didn't have to marry me and was fully prepared for him take me up on the offer--I think I was actually surprised when he refused.  Also, there are so many people I see living with chronic illness every day who get up and go about their days. They give me strength.  I've had very dear friends undergo cancer treatments and then work to share their stories to help others.  They are my heroes and I don't know that I would have shared my story without their example to follow.  Overall, though, it's the little things in life that really keep me going--leaves changing color in the fall, beautiful sunsets, flowering meadows.  The world keeps going and so can we.

What are you most proud of?

Today.  And tomorrow, when it comes.  And then the next day.  Just getting up, living life, and trying to make each day the best day possible, so that when the bad days come--because they will--there are all sorts of good memories to help with the bad days.  None of us ever know what our future holds--all we know is now.  I'm a planner by nature and I was probably the only kindergartner with five year plans.  My family laughs that I create contingencies to my contingencies.  Living with this disease has forced me to be much more flexible.  I still make plenty of plans and I doubt that will ever change--but now I realize that it is OK to change those plans from time to time.

What would winning the title of IBD Icon mean to you?

It means showing the world that living with this disease and accepting this disease does not mean being a coward; that this disease can be part of a full and wonderful life.  For a long time, I hid my disease from everyone.  If no one could tell I was sick, then I wasn't really that sick and there was no way my dad's history was going to be my destiny.  Accepting this disease--and the uncertainty that comes with it--has really caused me to try to appreciate each day and strive for what I want out of life.  I want to share that hope with others and raise some money so that we get closer to a cure so that no other families ever goes through what my family has experienced.

For further information about the IBD campaign and the 9 finalists, visit this website -- http://www.multivu.com/players/English/51547-ibd-icons/

Guest Post By Suzie Edward May: Renowned Author Of "Arthritis, Pregnancy And The Path To Parenthood"

Hi my wonderful readers,

A few weeks ago I posted an interview with my friend Jodi about being pregnant and chronically ill, and recently I shared my own poem entitled Considerations For My Unborn Child. Today's guest post fits right in. Although it appears otherwise, I promise you I'm not baby-obsessed (just yet).

Arthritis, pregnancy and the path to parenthood was written by esteemed Australian author Suzie Edward May. Suzie is a rheumatoid arthritis patient and a loving mother of two. As soon as I heard about this book, I wrote to Suzie asking if she'd be interested in guest posting. I was delighted when she took me up on the offer! I hope you enjoy her writing, and please don't hesitate to leave comments...

My story

I am 37 years old and live with my husband and two beautiful children Oscar (4 years) and Olive (19 months).  We live in Perth, Western Australia.  I am a lawyer, an author and an arthritis advocate.  I was diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis (RA) 9 years ago at age 28.

My pain started in my feet and within 3 months of diagnosis it moved to every joint in my body and remains there today.  I have spent the last 9 years managing my illness with a cocktail of arthritis medications – methotrexate, plaquinel, cortisone, celebrex, humira, enbrel, remicade, simponi, cimzia – and by trying to find meaning in this path I have been presented with, through working to increase awareness of arthritis and its impact on individuals, families and communities.

When my husband and I decided to start a family, I searched worldwide for information to guide me through the process of having a baby while managing RA.  To my astonishment I found nothing.  The journey of coming off medication in order to safely conceive, carry my babies and nurse them was monumental for me.  

It was one of the hardest challenges I would face in my life both physically and emotionally.  It would test my inner strength and determination in ways I could not have imagined.  It would be hard – and without any written resource to guide me or inspire me, it would seem at times, insurmountable.  

Why did I write this book?

While achieving my goal of having my own children, I became fiercely determined to fill this gap in arthritis information.  I wanted to provide other women, their partners and support networks, with a resource that would alleviate some of the isolation and loneliness that I felt on my own path to parenthood.

I searched the globe for women who had been through this journey before me.  I wanted to connect with them, understand them and learn from their experiences.  What I found were women who felt exactly like me – who were scared, isolated and uncertain of whether they were going be able to be a mother.  I found women who had courageously achieved what I was striving for.  I found women who inspired me and who opened their heart to me, allowing me to share in their path to parenthood so I could share it with others alongside my own journey.

I started writing Arthritis, pregnancy and the path to parenthood when pregnant with my son, and the book went to print the day my daughter was born 4 years later.  I felt like I had given birth to twins that day!

What is the book about?

Arthritis, pregnancy and the path to parenthood is the first book its kind worldwide.  There are no other publications that discuss pre-conception, pregnancy, parenting to 12 months and arthritis.  This book is not only unique; it is an essential resource for anyone with arthritis contemplating a family; and it fills a significant gap in arthritis information.

The book covers the following: to parent or not to parent, reducing or ceasing medication, pregnancy, the post-birth flare, breastfeeding (nursing) or bottle feeding your baby, caring for you and your relationships with others, caring for your baby in the first 12 months, and preparing to do it all again.

While it makes me very proud to see my book published and on bookshelves all over the world; knowing that I have touched the lives of others in a positive way is the most fulfilling aspect of this process for me.  Every week I receive heartfelt emails from women and men who have read my book.  Whether from the United States, the United Kingdom, Canada, New Zealand or Australia, every one of them tells me that my book has had an inspiring, emotional, positive impact on their life.  Some women say “I feel like you have crawled inside my head and written down my thoughts” while others share a deep appreciation that they were able to share the book with their loved ones, who could finally understand what they have been going through.  

It is these women (and men) that I am the most grateful to.  Every one of them inspires me and reinforces that I did the right thing by writing and publishing this book.  

Message to women thinking about starting a family

I believe that information is power; and with an illness like arthritis (and many other chronic conditions), power is something we often feel has been taken away.  I live with this sense of powerlessness everyday as I know I am slave to a cruel and debilitating disease that is unpredictable, incredibly painful and has no cure.  Educating myself about arthritis and about how I can live my life despite arthritis, gives me back some of my power.  

I always believed I would become a mother – it was never something I questioned.  So, when diagnosed with RA and asked “... you don’t want to have children do you?” I was determined to never let RA become a barrier to me achieving that which I hold so dear in my heart. 

This journey was hard for me.  For other women it will be easier, for some it will be more difficult or even unattainable.  But knowing there are other women out there who have been through the hard times and succeeded, motivated me to never give up.  Connecting with other women with arthritis, learning of their experiences and sharing our joys and sorrows, gives me back my power to fight.  

My children are my life.  They get me up every morning when my body screams for me to stay in bed.  They teach me every day the meaning of unconditional love, purity and living in the moment.  I would go through all the RA pain I have endured and more, just to hold them and care for them.  It is possible to have beautiful, healthy children while also managing a chronic illness.  The road may be tough at times, but with the support of others and your inner strength, you can achieve anything you desire.  

Suzie Edward May

You may visit Suzie’s website to order your copy of her book (payment via Paypal) -  www.suzieedwardmay.com

You may also contact Suzie by email at suzie@suzieedwardmay.com

Spotlight On Me: Bringing Depression Into The Light

I've written this blog primarily through the eyes of a Spondylitis and Fibromyalgia patient, but of course chronic illness comes in many forms. It can impact both the mind and the body. Although we've made strides as a society, there is still incredible stigma surrounding mental illness; stereotypes and prejudices that demote its sufferers to "second class citizens."

"If they were just stronger, they wouldn't be mentally ill"

"Everyone gets sad sometimes...those people just needs better coping skills."

"Who knows what they're capable of. After all, they're not in their right minds."

Sound familiar?

If we're being honest, most of us have heard (or perhaps even thought?) something similar... after all, our society says it's so. Both overtly and subconsciously, we're taught to remain fearful and ashamed of mental illness. It's no wonder many people hide their diagnoses. In this "don't ask, don't tell" atmosphere, those who disclose their condition can suffer profound losses - publicly, interpersonally, occupationally, medically, etc. While I've mentioned depression as part of my story, I haven't delved deeply into it. I suppose it just felt simpler and safer to focus on my physical conditions.  

Like any marginalized group, many of us living with mental illness feel powerless to enact change, but I'm not sold. In a society where we're asked to be voiceless, what could be more powerful than telling you story? What better victory than to live and to love in the face of illness? The great Harvey Milk once said, "Hope will never be silent", and this is why I began my "spotlight series." Those of us who are sick don't often have the chance to compare notes with each other, nor do we allow our health to be the center of attention. My hope for these interviews was to promote discussion, trade resources, and most importantly, remind us all that we're not alone. 

I recently wrote this post calling for mental health spotlights, and many of you reached out in support of this idea. Slowly, but surely more people are courageously stepping forward to tell their stories. I wanted to be one of them, so I answered my own interview questions below (a powerful experience, to say the least). No matter what you're coping with, remember that someone has been there before you; they've felt the darkness of the future, and found the light again. 

To distance myself from depression and mental illness would be to deny my own story, and I wont let that happen. To my cherished readers: thank you for allowing me the respect and safety to speak my truth...

What is your diagnosis? What is the year you were first diagnosed and how old were you ? 

My first real bought of depression occurred in the fall of 2007 when I was a senior in college. Following my first extreme flare of Spondylitis, medical problems within my family, and a sudden break-up with my long-term boyfriend, I found myself sinking over several months. After meeting with the school psychiatrist in November of 2007, I was diagnosed with depression and decided to take anti-depressants for the first time.

What would you tell someone who has been newly diagnosed with your condition and/or a chronic illness in general?

Perhaps the most important thing is you are not alone. There are so many paths that can lead to depression and countless lives that have been touched by it. This illness knows no boundaries. It's crucial to understand what you're dealing with, since depression can be a powerful, fast-acting illness; one that can quickly distort your reality. However bad it gets, always remember there is way out. Millions of people have been in that same dark place and found their way back into the light. In fact, most people have accomplished this more than once (I happen to be one of them).

Once I "beat" depression that first time, I made the mistake of believing it was gone forever. No matter what, stay tuned into yourself and become your strongest advocate. Know your "baseline." In other words, what feels right and what feels wrong for you emotionally? This way, you'll recognize when you're slipping. Maybe you feel distant from the "you" you've always known, but trust yourself.  Depression or no depression, nothing is more powerful than your intuition.

In my case, my mental pain is closely intertwined with my physical pain. When my pain flares, I inevitably get scared. Even though my life has been filled with the ups and downs of illness, pain is a game changer. It makes it difficult to see past the present moment. Now that I've experienced more than one depressive episode, I've discovered a pattern and have learned to recognize my unique warning signs: the growing insecurities, the constant tears, the numbness toward the things and people I love, and ultimately the overwhelming sense of hopelessness. 

Please also know that depression is just as "valid" as any physical illness and you have a right to receive the best care possible. More than anything, value yourself enough to seek help as soon as possible. The longer you wait, the harder it may be to get on top of. There will be no judgement from anyone. On the contrary, I've been told by people how "impressive" and "brave" I am for recognizing my own needs. 

I know it may feel easier to give up, but please believe that life can and will get better. You can and will get through this. If you're in a desperate spot, don't wait to reach out. Talk to a trusted person in your life and tell them where your mind is. If you feel that your personal support system is lacking or unavailable, call 1-800-273-TALK or any number of other hotlines with real people on the line. They want to help, they want to listen, and they're not there to judge you. Most of all, remember that your life matters...probably more than you could even imagine. You are just as deserving of happiness as the next person. Claim this right for yourself, and take baby steps from there. If you feel like you're just going through the motions at first, that's okay. Get your mind on anything else and force yourself to complete the task (even if it's just brushing your teeth or taking a shower).  However you might choose to do it, keep moving forward and fight for your peace of mind.

Please explain a bit how your condition affects you. 

Prior to 2007, I had always known how to pull myself out of a "funk." I'd put on my favorite music, eat some ice cream, spend time with my dogs, and eventually my sadness would fade. But this was different. This sadness was relentless, unpredictable and physically painful. There was a constant lump in my throat. My chest ached, I had no appetite, and I had constant stomach pains. The tears would come at the drop of a hat and it was nearly impossible to concentrate in class. It felt as if I was losing myself; as if each day was taking me further away from the Maya I had always known. Nothing felt the same. Spending time with friends and doing my favorite activities no longer brought me joy. At that point, I was only just learning how to be open about Spondylitis and the pain associated with this disease. Now I had to somehow convey this mental anguish? I was scared and entirely lost. 

My college was 8 hours from home and, although I spoke to my parents every day, I felt impossibly far from everyone. It was as if I was falling down some bottomless hole, while everyone and everything I knew was safe above ground. For the first time in my life, I lost my optimism. The reality of having a chronic autoimmune disease truly hit me, and I started feeling trapped. Instead of finding meaning in my diagnosis, I began focusing on the injustice of living in a "broken body." That's when the hopelessness took hold. During a time when my peers were excitedly planning for their futures, the thought of even one more day was unbearable. Life seemed impossibly long, and I convinced myself that I was unlovable. I convinced myself that I was alone. 

It's not easy to admit, but I was having suicidal thoughts. I never had a plan and I don't believe I would have ever gone through with it. However, at that point, the thought of ending my pain seemed easier than living through it. To say that my parents' voices saved me wouldn't be an exaggeration. During my darkest moments, I thought only of my family, who would be utterly devastated if I were to leave them. Eventually I scared myself enough with this thinking that I contacted the school psychiatrist. It wasn't an easy call to make, but it was one of the best decisions I've ever made.

I was prescribed Zoloft (in a class of drugs called SSRIs) and, while the change was initially subtle, my world quickly stabilized. With this bit of help, my downward spiral ceased and allowed me to gain my footing. I was cautiously optimistic at first, but as times passed and I stuck with therapy, my perspective returned. I gradually gained the tools I needed to overcome this illness. By springtime, I was feeling like myself again - just in time for graduation and the beginning of my adult life. 

For the next couple of years, things remained hopeful and steady. I deemed that first depressive episode as a fluke - a simple "phase" in my life. I fell madly in love with John and started graduate school at Columbia in the fall of 2009. Consequently, my energy turned toward helping people in need. Like many aspiring social workers, I fell pretty low on my own priority list. Just as I was getting in a groove, my world gradually turned upside down. The Spondylitis medication I had relied on for nearly a decade stopped working. Never before had I experienced that kind of pain; it was deep, burning, and relentless. Weeks went by and then turned into months. I had no control. As much as I tried to believe John and my parents when they said it was only temporary, I started slipping again. Last fall - nearly one year after my medication began failing - I found myself right back in that hole; the same place I had vowed never to return to.

Where do you get your strength?

This question has proved difficult for other spotlight participants, and now I see why. The truth is my strength is defined by many things: relationships, activities, places, memories, and things I'm sure I haven't yet identified. If you follow this blog, it's no secret that I'm blessed with an extraordinary support system; family, friends, and a fiance who love me unconditionally. I've sat beside my brother while he was getting a tattoo that read "Stand Tall" - a beautiful symbol of support for my battle with Spondylitis. My mom hasn't missed an important doctor's appointment since I was little.  No matter how busy he may be, my dad is always there to listen, to empathize, and to make me as comfortable as possible. My sister-in-law offers a loving ear whenever I need it, refusing to let me be alone at my worst. As tempting as it might be to isolate myself, she makes sure that this doesn't happen. Each family member (my grandma, my aunts, my uncles, my cousins, and all of John's family members) plays a unique and vital role in my life.  Furthermore, I have the friends I've always dreamed about. No matter how many miles or oceans may separate us, their love is close by and constant. They want to be involved in my daily life, come what may.

I also stay strong by actively choosing optimism, whenever possible. I learned from an early age that I could exist one of two ways: victimized by my disease, or grateful for the good that remained. I knew that I deserved happiness, so I pursued it with tenacity. If I couldn't keep up with my peers, I made sure to walk slowly enough to enjoy the view. I noticed and appreciated the smallest things, like the ant carrying a crumb twice its own size, or the cloud shaped like Mickey Mouse. I tried not to dwell on my physical limitations, and instead I cultivated my more sedentary interests; things that couldn't be taken away from me, no matter how sick I got. I wrote and sang and painted and sculpted. I was unabashedly childish and allowed myself to be excited by the silliest things. As it turns out, this is what kept my head above the water when things got tough. 

Of course optimism isn't always possible, and it took me years to realize that's okay.  There are times when the physical pain makes it simply impossible to focus on anything else. Sadly, I once believed that no one would love me without my optimism. I was terrified of being some kind of "downer" and worried that, without my smiles and silver linings, nobody would stick around. In some cases I was right, but those people weren't meant to be in my life for the long haul. Just like anything else, your outlook can ebb and flow. Don't fight it, but also realize when you're slipping. In my experience, depression comes when I've lost my perspective. No matter how much I may want to see the good, I just can't. Joy and humor are scarce and I lose my strength to fight. That's when I know I need help getting back on track...and that's okay too.

What are you most proud of?

Despite all of the uncertainty, I'm proud of how far I've come. It's exhausting to live with chronic pain, and there were times I've wanted to give up. But I didn't. In the end, I've always made the conscious decision to keep fighting. 

Having experienced true depression more than once, I now place tremendous value on life, health, and happiness. I still strive for optimism, but never with the same desperation. I know that life comes in waves. I know that the people who truly love me will still love me, even if I lose track of those silver linings for a while. Chronic illness has helped me find contentment within myself, to appreciate the simple joys, and to recognize true meaning in my struggle. I'm proud of speaking openly about my illness and communicating on a deeper level with my friends, my family, and people I've never met. Because of this blog, I've connected with some of my greatest heroes. Because I've written through times when it would have been much easier to stay quiet, I believe I've helped.

What are three things you couldn't live without?

1. Love (in all its forms)

2. Animals

3. The arts

If you could send one message to medical professionals around the world, what would it be?

My fiance John recently began his fourth and final year of medical school. I've watched him cope with grumpy patients, endure grueling hours, and tackle countless day-long exams. I've also watched him miss out on memories with friends and family in order to be present for his patients and their families. I see him learning to cope with the daily pain and sadness that's all around him. So I know (as much as I can possible know) the sacrifice that you've all made. I thank you for all of it.

I want to share an excerpt from John's personal statement that he recently sent off to potential residency programs. In my eyes, it says it all...

"It was during my medicine sub-internship when I truly realized the power of empathy, education, and the therapeutic relationship. I was called to readmit an elderly women (AS) that had suffered a hemorrhagic stroke one month prior; she had only been out of the hospital for several days . Through the heroic efforts of the neurosurgery team, AS was saved by undergoing a craniotomy with evacuation of the hemorrhage. The trauma from the bleed, however, left her unable to walk, feed herself, and communicate effectively. When she arrived under my care, her husband complained that her mental status had deteriorated over the past day. After a urinalysis turned up positive for leukocyte esterase and nitrites, my team suspected delirium secondary to a urinary tract infection, and we treated her appropriately.

The next morning, I saw AS and I was surprised at how much she had improved. However, over the course of that day her mental status waxed and waned, so we continued to rule out treatable causes of delirium. Later that day, I followed up with her husband. Initially, he was very upset that all of the tests and specialty consults had failed to yield an explanation for the delirium. Although our team felt that AS's care was progressing smoothly, her spouse clearly disagreed, and he made it known to us. At the time, I remember thinking to myself: "It was just a month ago that this man's wife was perfectly healthy. Now, because of the stroke, she has had nearly all of her abilities stripped from her." I couldn't imagine the pain and frustration he was feeling, so I decided to express this to him. From that point forward, the dynamic between the husband and my team completely changed; frustration was replaced with gratitude. I also sensed that the husband did not understand the nature of delirium, and that he was equating all of the tests with treatment. I explained to him that we were looking for causes that we could treat, but that often times delirium is a process that resolves on its own. I told him that he could help by frequently orienting his wife, and bringing things from home to make her room seem more familiar. Towards the end of AS's stay, her husband stopped and thanked me. He smiled, shook my hand, and said, "John, you'll make a good doctor." It was one of the most satisfying experiences I can recall...This experience only reinforced the importance of seeing the patient and the family in context, as well as my desire to work in a field where I could approach patients from a holistic point of view."

Sometimes it is the simplest of human gestures that mean the most to your patients and their families. Don't be scared of your humanity - it is you're greatest asset.

Love,

Maya