BAD BLOOD

Last month, Tatiana Schlossberg, the daughter of Caroline Kennedy and an environmental journalist, passed away. She was diagnosed with an acute myeloid leukemia in the immediate aftermath of giving birth to her second child less and passed way less than 18 months after being diagnosed. 

In the months following that diagnosis, she underwent multiple treatments, including two bone marrow transplants and experimental CAR-T therapy to target her recalcitrant cancer. She chronicled her experience as a cancer patient in a piece in the New Yorker entitled, "A Further Shore" that I found to be incredibly poignant. 

The piece was striking for the clarity of the medical history she recounted, but more importantly this essay brought to life the human toll cancer takes on far too many children, parents, and siblings - all categories to which Ms. Schlossberg belonged.

Though I have taken care of cancer patients as an attending for 19 years now, this piece made me truly appreciate the toll this disease takes on a patient and their family. There was not a single aspect of Ms. Schlossberg's life that was not turned upside down. 

Amidst her illness, she found herself remembering moments of the past both big and small. These surely served as touchstones for the life she once had and perhaps allowed an escape from the difficult circumstances she faced from her disease and treatment complications. 

After reading this piece, I was left with a much greater appreciation for the gift of health and how death is inevitable for us all. If we are lucky, we can look back on a life lived like Ms. Schlossberg full of passion, love, and dedication to causes bigger than ourselves. Rest in peace.

THE GREAT DETACHMENT

In today's New York Times, David Brooks weighs in on what he views as one of the biggest challenges human being face - loss of connection and the accompanying feelings of loneliness and isolation - that he calls the great detachment.

In one of the more poignant lines from that piece, he writes, "We all need energy sources to power us through life, and love is the most powerful energy source known to man." I have admired Brooks' writing greatly over the years - even quoting him in the two endowed chair speeches I have given to date - but this sentence profoundly resonates with me. 

The moments in my own life that were most profound were times of joy or grief shared with other people. In those moments, we were able to process the enormity of what we had experienced together, and we left feeling closer and better understood. These moments include my wedding witnessed by one of my best friends, the birth of my children, the death of my niece Jasmine, and countless clinic visits processing good news and bad with patients. In those times, I have never felt less alone and more purposeful.

These days, I often find those types of moments of attachment to be more rare. Work is more fragmented and disconnected with pressures coming from multiple sides. Nearly all my friends live somewhere other than here. My children are getting older and spreading their wings, which is precisely what is supposed to happen. However, that does not mean it is easy for parents like me!

So what is the antidote to this era of detachment? The answer plainly is to live and work closely with other people we care about and to share pursuits in which the self is dissolved into the collective. This is the elixir for the detachment plague we face. I cannot think of an intervention more vital right now.