After 45 Years, They Called My Compassion Inefficient—So I Made 22 Minutes Viral

at the county hospital, I was a 22-year-old kid in starched whites. I didn’t have an iPad. I didn’t have an electronic charting station screaming at me.

I had my hands. I had my gut.

Back then, we didn’t treat “clients” or “billing codes.” We treated neighbors.

I remember nights in the 80s where I sat for three hours with a terrified young mother whose continue reading …