Category Archives: Richmond

Helping to Decode a New Language

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She wrote the number “8” smoothly. Months prior, it would have taken her five tries to get it. She was close to remembering all the colors of her home country’s flag. She wrote her name and birthday without issue – things she hadn’t yet learned when we started working together. Her English vocabulary was expanding. She understood simple words and phrases I said often during our classes together. Perhaps the progress was slow, but she was learning English and how to write.

For the past year I’ve taught English to a new American. I’ve taught English as a second language before, on multiple occasions, but she was my first student who couldn’t read or write. She was also my first student who couldn’t speak Spanish fluently. The lack of Spanish mattered since it was the only language I spoke other than English. She and I had no language in common, but we came together over her desire to learn English and my hope to teach her English. We came together over her desire to learn how to read and write and my belief that such knowledge is a human right.

Before she and I started working together, I’d never taught someone the alphabet or how to write. I found it interesting how her writing progressed just like children’s writing does. At first, her letters and numbers were large and sloppy. With time the shapes of the letters and numbers became more precise and smaller. At first, her spacing was off – she frequently ran out of room on our little whiteboard halfway through a word. Now, word spacing is seldom a challenge for her.

She impressed me with her focus and hard work. It was apparent she studied between our weekly classes. She studied English despite running a household and raising four children – three of whom were in middle school or younger. While helping her learn important things, like her birthday so she could fill out forms, I discovered we were born the same year.

Our life journeys have been different despite sharing a birthday year. Yet, our paths intersected over English. I wish that we could communicate better. I want to learn more about her. I want to hear her thoughts about the world. Perhaps, someday, we’ll be able to have such a conversation.

Over 48 Hours Without Running Water in the City of Richmond

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“See these?” my mom asked flexing her biceps, “Hauling water.”  

When I was young, my family lived in rural Vermont in a hunting cabin without running water. My parents hauled water from the stream for bathing and we filled jugs at my dad’s work for drinking water. Those years in the woods prepared me for life as a Peace Corps volunteer in rural Paraguay where amenities were often lacking.

When my mom visited me in Paraguay, I flexed my biceps. “See these?” I asked. “Washing clothes by hand.” But it wasn’t just that. In Paraguay the water and electricity went out often. Just as my parents had done when I was a child, I developed ways of conserving water and making do when the utilities were down. One of my kitchen walls was lined with 2-liter bottles (recycled soda bottles) filled with clean water – so I was ready when the water went out. Some of my Paraguayan friends had different water sources from me and therefore often still had water even if I didn’t. My friends in Paraguay were used to the water outages and had a communal approach to getting through those annoying stretches. I could count on them to invite me to shower or to wash clothes at their homes if my water was out for more than a day.

When I returned to the US after completing my Peace Corps service, I figured my only time without running water would be when I was backpacking or camping. Self-imposed in those cases and short-lived. But Richmond surprised me this winter. In classic southern fashion (being from Vermont, I must poke fun at how the southern US handles snow), all went awry when Richmond was hit with a true snowstorm and sub-freezing temperatures. One of the city’s water pumps broke, multiple backup systems failed, and fixing the problem was harder than officials expected. As such, almost the entire city lost water for just over 48 hours and had to boil water for drinking for almost a week.

In the grand scheme of things, no running water for 48 hours and a boil advisory for about a week are insignificant compared to the water hardships many people around the world face. However, I found it interesting that such a utility failure could occur in a modern US city in the absence of a natural disaster. My husband and I (both from New England and used to winter power/water outages) were prepared. We filled pots and buckets with water just before the city turned the water off. We refilled our buckets in the river as needed to ensure we could flush our toilet. I took a baby-wipe bath one day. I washed my hair in the sink another day when the water was starting to come back but we still didn’t have enough water pressure to run the shower. I’ve known how to take a bucket bath since I was a child. Though it is a nuisance; it is simple.

48 hours did not restore the bicep muscles I’ve lost since returning to the US and living with modern, reliable running water and all the amenities that come with it. Yet, during Richmond’s water outage, I found myself flexing my biceps and thinking about the many people across the globe who have unclean water or minimal access to water daily. In the US reliable utilities are taken for granted. Richmond’s loss of water was a good reminder of how precious functional utilities are. I expect Richmond officials to review how the system failed and take steps to ensure such a failure doesn’t occur again. I also consider the water outage an opportunity for myself and other citizens to reflect on the event. In a world faced with global climate change which is leading to more severe weather and more chance for disasters that could cut-off utilities, how prepared are we if the systems we take for granted fail? How does one function without running water? Without electricity? What do we need to learn to be better prepared to navigate these situations when they arise? What can we do to prevent utilities from failing? How can we protect our water resources?

Is It Luck? Is It Privilege? Or Is It Something Else?

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She was in my thoughts more than I expected for how little time we’d spent together. She and I crossed paths while I was volunteering for a local organization. We were born the same year. Yet, she was born in Afghanistan and I in the US. She can’t read any language, as she reminded me, women are not allowed to attend school in her country. As a US physician, I’m among the most educated in the world. She has multiple children. I have none. We do not speak any common languages. Despite the differences, I noticed a few commonalities between us beyond our birth year. We are both married. We are both women. We both drink tea.

Soon after meeting her, I read updates in The Economist about the Taliban. Summarized, the Taliban issued more limitations on women in Afghanistan. It is so difficult to be a woman in Afghanistan that the EU has made being a woman from Afghanistan a criterion for asylum – no other qualifications necessary. 

Yet the horrors that I’ve heard about Afghanistan and the complex interconnected history of the US and Afghanistan are not how I want to know this Afghan woman. Life has taught me that the stories the media tell are not the stories of individuals. The negative thoughts and the sadness I have about how different my life is from this Afghan woman I know originate in my biases and my ignorance of her.

I do not know enough to guess what she thinks or feels about her history and her future. I do not know her story while living in Afghanistan. I do not know her story of coming to the US. I do not know what she thinks of her life in the US.

We were born the same year. Was it luck, privilege, or something else that I was born in the US and she in Afghanistan? How can one compare two lives so different? What does she think about when she has a quiet moment? What does she dream of? What does she enjoy? What makes her happy?

I interact with many people who have different backgrounds and cultures. But this woman and I seem even more different than most people I encounter. The Peace Corps taught me that difference is not better or worse just different. It also taught me that what I believed to be laws of humanity were theories – theories with counter theories, and most importantly, not proven to be true or correct. I know this Afghan woman and I have more in common than I can see now while also acknowledging that our views of the world are likely as different as views can be.

As I write this post, I wonder if I will ever have the chance to learn more about her. I hope so. I have grown most profoundly when given the opportunity to learn about new cultures and about new people. It is the diversity of humans that makes us so remarkable. And while I imagine her story is one marred with sadness, I know she has things she is proud of, moments of joy worth remembering, and stories of success. I hope that someday she can choose which stories and things I know about her, rather than my limited knowledge of her culture fabricating a story of her. Reality, I’ve found, is always sadder and more beautiful than imagined worlds.

I’m grateful that being born in the US allowed me to become a doctor and choose my own path. I hope that the US is as generous to her, whatever her hopes and dreams upon coming here are. The future is one we are each molding in our own way. Be it luck, privilege, or something else clearing the path.

Springtime in Richmond

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The ospreys are back on the Richmond James River marking the arrival of spring in this city that sits at the hub of Virginia’s highways. Match Day, a different mark of spring, took place earlier this month. It always falls in March, an odd kind of Ides of March. This year, with that phase of the Doctorhood Quest behind me, I was unaffected by it. My Match Day will forever dwell on St. Patrick’s Day of 2023. That’s the day I found out I was moving to Richmond.

It was about this time last year when I saw Richmond for the first time. We visited the city only a week or so after Match Day to look at apartments. We wanted to move to our new home as soon as we could. I liked Richmond instantly. I’ve visited enough places and lived in enough more to know, as a gut feeling, if a place I visit is a place I could live happily. I had that sense about Richmond.

Spring is always a transition season but since I started the Doctorhood Quest it has come to mark additional important transitions that didn’t exist in my pre-doctor world. As I write this, I’m three-quarters of the way through my first year of residency (or one seventh through the whole thing). Residency years start on July 1, meaning that as spring slides into summer it marks the closing of one year and the opening of another year in residency. Residency years are hard years. As happy as I was last March when I transitioned from medical school for residency, I am enthusiastic to leave my first year of residency behind for the second year.

The seasons of my first year of residency almost followed the seasons as I knew them when I lived in Vermont. Summer was a glowing time when everything seemed possible because the leaves were new and vibrant; the sun stuck around longest. Fall was my favorite season because by that time the year was familiar; the weather was perfect. Winter was dark and gloomy; it was hard to understand why the world didn’t pause the whole season to drink mate and eat chocolate. Spring came with new hope and new beginnings.

With the ospreys back on the river and a recent vacation behind me, I’m excited to embrace spring. I love the ospreys and was so disheartened to learn last fall that they left for the winter. In Richmond there are numerous walking bridges across the James River from which you can see osprey nests and watch them hover-dive-catch fish. This spring marks a year living in Richmond and a year since graduating medical school.

Comparing this spring to last spring, I know the parks of Virginia way better now and so plotting my days off has become more exciting. And, more down to business, I’ve learned so much about medicine and how to be a doctor. The Doctorhood Quest continues just as the seasons march along unwaveringly. Year two of residency will be a time to develop independence and hone my knowledge. Internal medicine residency is three long years. So, I have two springs left before I get to confidently say I’m ready to work independently as a physician. Two more springs of celebrating the ospreys’ return as a resident. Then we’ll see where the Doctorhood Quest sends me. Perhaps I’ll also celebrate the James River ospreys as an independent physician too; only time will tell where I am three springs from now.  

First Impression of Richmond, VA

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The James River winds through Richmond, VA and serves as the city’s playground. On a sunny day you’ll find folks lounging on river rocks; testing the rapids in rafts and kayaks; and biking, walking, and running on the riverbank trails. From the numerous walking bridges across the river, you can watch osprey dive, great blue herons fish, and geese and ducks eat bottoms up.

When you turn away from the river you find yourself wandering along streets lined with old brick buildings including row houses and factories-converted-to-apartments. Murals are scattered throughout the city. Parks and green spaces are more numerous than tall buildings.

Downtown Richmond is quiet. There isn’t much traffic – even at the peak of rush hour the traffic is manageable. There’s a boarded-up window or “for lease” sign every couple of storefronts on the primary street at the heart of the city. Neighborhoods with different vibes sit like cars on a Ferris wheel around Richmond’s often sleepy downtown.

Richmond could be called the city of highway sampling. Numerous highway bridges crisscross through the city. Under these bridges are blocks filled with restaurants and parks. When you use Google maps to navigate almost anywhere in or around Richmond, you’ll find yourself driving on several highways for less than 1 minute each.

Richmond is easy living. It’s urban enough that there are big name shows yet it is quiet enough that you can often hear birds singing. Without many tall buildings, Richmond feels more like a large town than a big city. I suppose “big city” is relative. I like having a 6th floor apartment that feels like a penthouse because a 6-story building is tall in my neighborhood.

From my mini balcony I have a lovely view of the sunset. From my apartment windows, I can watch the numerous lightning storms that come from the south-west to dazzle the city. I guess living in a hot and humid place leaves ample opportunity for any cold front to make the air zippy-zappy. I’ve never seen so many lightning storms in such a short period as I have living here.

After about 3 months in Richmond, I’ve found my favorite ice cream place and some go-to walking routes. There’s still a lot left to explore and learn about the city, but it already feels like home. It doesn’t usually take me long to settle in a place, but Richmond was an especially easy transition.