key: cord-0888762-jylbn2tn
authors: Danford, Julia; Jain, Raina; Holdcroft, Lindsay; Warren, Celestine
title: Learning to Blur the Edges during COVID‐19: Reconnecting with What Matters via Narrative Medicine
date: 2020-07-08
journal: J Am Geriatr Soc
DOI: 10.1111/jgs.16714
sha: c16cf360b2955af87122e07daa65cc07c4659751
doc_id: 888762
cord_uid: jylbn2tn

nan

It was in these lines that we realized the pre-pandemic rushing, the frenzy, and the desire to outperform each other in the eyes of those who might decide our future had accumulated to create detrimental borders or "edges" between us. Relationships had veered into the transactional; reductionism and objectivity had crept stealthily in, eroding our ability to

connect. Yet Monet's blurry edges were what had drawn us to medicine in the first place. To be a doctor meant shouldering the emotional burden of illness with a patient, listening intently to their stories, sacrificing self through the loss of time, money, and comfort to be intimately present with someone else. We wondered how we might get back to this place.

One veteran I (J.D.) called was initially hesitant to speak to me. I would later learn that he had experienced a turbulent childhood followed by an adulthood haunted by his combat experience. After taking a few days to decide, he ultimately agreed to talk; I settled into my chair and listened. Towards the end of our conversation he said, "I was nervous to talk to you. I'm not sure I believe we can ever truly know what it's like to be someone else, to walk in their shoes. But my buddy tells me -and I think I agree -we have to try to let people understand us, we have to at least give them a chance." I heard Monet: "I will not return to a universe of objects that don't know each other, as if islands were not the lost children of one great continent." 2 Table 1 . Vignettes from our conversations with veterans Having navigated the medical landscape of war, a former Vietnam nurse parallels her experiences triaging and treating wounded soldiers to the challenges of our current pandemic. "We are in a war zone, but this time it's invisible bullets. It's even more frightening," she says. Decisions about who will live and die and who will receive the gear necessary to defend themselves are all too familiar. They are memories from another continent, decades ago, now unearthed in our backyards, demanding our attention.

A retired army colonel with New Hampshire roots, he remains sharp in his mid-80s and exudes the warmth of a cherished old friend. He refers often and lovingly to his wife, his high school sweetheart and admired companion for the last six decades. He gravitated towards the armed services at first for "money I desperately needed." Soon, however, he found the connection he had long been seeking. "I made fast friends in the military. I stayed because I admired the people." Relationships, seemingly so difficult to build as a rural, working class 18-year-old surrounded by the wealth and privilege of an Ivy League college, came naturally in the military. It was a community that understood his life and struggles as others had not. In this unexpected place he found beauty and belonging.

A Marine in his 70s served in Vietnam for two months, during which time he sustained significant, life-altering injuries. He laments the abandonment and loneliness he felt upon returning home, but shares his secret for making it through the darkest stretches: "You got to keep positive. You can't dwell. You got to go on with your life. Dwelling just makes it worse. You kind of put your head on your shoulder and think positive."

A 94-year-old World War II veteran shares story after story, his mind still sharp as a tack though his body is failing. He landed on the Normandy beaches; fought through hedges and trenches; dug fox holes; fell in love with a Jewish woman of the resistance in Paris; found his brother laying under a tank during combat, writing a letter to him; surprised himself with how peacefully he accepted death during a gas attack. He has spent his entire life trying but concludes, "it's difficult for me to understand the behavior of mankind," and as he advises me to keep reading about history, his voice takes on a new urgency.

A Model for Empathy, Reflection, Profession, and Trust

The authors have no conflicts of interest to disclose.

This essay was first conceptualized and drafted by Julia Danford, who was initially This article is protected by copyright. All rights reserved.Accepted Article