Faculty Bibliography

The other reason I enjoy our visits is that [Wilamena Hernandez] is from Peru. Peruvian Spanish is clear and steady. Each word is fully articulated, and every letter is pronounced -- crucial elements for a mid-level Spanish speaker like me. In these visits I feel as if I have truly mastered the language, because I can understand just about every word she says. I'm confident that almost nothing is shortchanged in our encounter and that language is not an impediment to good medical care. In the ideal world, I would have been able to stay there with Hernandez and understand every word she uttered. But my Spanish simply wasn't that good. However, if an interpreter had been present, would Hernandez have spoken as freely about her painful memories and current anxieties? With languages such as Cantonese or Bengali I have no choice: I must use some sort of go-between to communicate with my patients. But with my Spanish-speaking patients I face an odd dilemma: I speak enough Spanish to cover most situations, but not enough to call myself fully fluent. I could conduct the interview in Spanish and offer my patients the comfort of communicating directly in their native language. Or I could use an admittedly awkward interpreter to ensure that I get all the details. Are the gains in comfort and connection worth the loss of detail? Are the gains in accuracy worth the loss of intimacy? In either case, it seems, I'm practicing medicine with imperfect skills

Second judgment call: Should I leave work that evening without getting the results of the X-ray? Given that Mr. [Miah] was already clinically improving, it was hard to imagine that there would be anything on the X-ray that would change my management. And if there was something terrible there, he wouldn't be feeling better after one day of erythromycin. Right? I sent Mr. Miah for another chest X-ray, then had him wait while I walked the X-ray film over to a radiologist. Only the bone radiologist was available, so I gave her the chest X-ray. She was concerned that the fluid had now partially solidified and might be holding a pocket of pus. That would require admission to the hospital for a chest tube to be inserted. She told me that I'd need a CT scan to figure this out. Given the vagaries of a city hospital, it could take up to two weeks to obtain an outpatient CT, but if I admitted him, he would get the scan tomorrow. All of medicine is probability. If 80% of people with ordinary pneumonia get better on erythromycin and Mr. Miah turns out not to be one of them, does it mean that my decision was wrong? If I call Mr. Miah and he feels fine, would my decision, then, have been the right thing?

[Rafael Campo]'s book takes us on a journey of illness, through Inklings, Symptoms, Diagnosis, Treatment, Side Effects, and End of Life. In each of these chapters, he presents several poems with in-depth analysis from the unique perspective of a physician-poet. In the chapter on symptoms, Campo compares poems by Lucia Perillo and William Carlos Williams. Perillo's poem about her experience of multiple sclerosis is almost like a watercolour picture, with shifting and blending metaphors, all of which are rich with colour. William's poem about his mother's loss of a husband, is spare and reticent. Campo contrasts these two poems both stylistically and in terms of content. Campo argues that Williams' "clinician-observer" talents prevent him from appreciating the emotional content:

The New York University School of Medicine has a rich tradition of cultivating programs in medical humanities and professionalism. They are drawn from the departments, centers, students, and faculty in the School of Medicine, have linkages throughout the university, and are interwoven into the fabric and culture of the institution. Some are centrally based in the School of Medicine's deans' office, and others are located in individual departments and receive support from the dean's office. This article describes representative programs for medical students and faculty. Curricular initiatives, the fundamental components of medical students' learning, include a course entitled 'The Physician, Patient, and Society,' a clerkship essay in the Medicine Clerkship, an opportunity for reflection during the medicine clerkship, and a medical humanities elective. In 2002, the Professionalism Initiative was launched to enhance and reflect the values of the medical profession. Its curriculum consists of a series of events that coordinate, particularly, with existing elements of the first-year curriculum (e.g., orientation week, a session during anatomy, a self-assessment workshop, and a peer-assessment workshop). The Master Scholars Program is a group of five, theme-based master societies consisting of faculty and students who share common interests around the society's themes. Programs developed for the societies include colloquia, faculty-led seminars, a mandatory student-mentoring program, and visiting scholars. Finally, the authors describe three high-quality literary publications created at New York University School of Medicine. Each of the initiatives undergoes regular critical examination and reflection that drive future planning