Nobody hands you a job description.

There’s no orientation, no training manual, no first day. There’s a phone call, or a scan result, or a fall in the middle of the night. And then, quietly, you find...

Matt wrote recently on our Substack about something he noticed in himself. When a conversation around him turns tense, his breathing changes first. It becomes shallow. Sometimes he holds it altogether...

It’s 1:45 in the afternoon. You meant to eat an hour ago. Now you’re standing at the counter eating crackers out of the sleeve, or scrolling for something to have delivered, or deciding you’ll just wa...

There is a particular kind of quiet that can follow a diagnosis.

At first, the phone doesn’t stop. Texts arrive faster than you can answer them. People say, “Let me know if you need anything,” and th...

Some readers challenged my use of profanity in one of our articles last week. Their comments got me thinking about language, intention, judgment, and what it really means to consider each other's need...

Something new to listen to

We started a podcast. It's called the F Perfection Podcast, and the first five episodes are ready for you now.

Over the years, so many of the people we work with have told...

I was talking with a close family member recently who is struggling.

They don’t like their job. Money is tight. They don’t have much of a community or close friendships right now, and some family rel...

Some weeks, standing at the stove feels like climbing a mountain.

Maybe you are in the middle of chemotherapy. Maybe an autoimmune flare has knocked the wind out of you, or a new diagnosis has hijack...

I want to start with two conversations.

The first was with a woman who had been diagnosed with breast cancer six days earlier. She sat down, unfolded a printout she had been carrying in her purse, an...

Nobody hands you a badge.

There is no ceremony, no start date, no orientation packet. One day you are a daughter or a husband or a brother, and then there is a phone call, or a scan result, or a fall...

There is a chair in almost every exam room that nobody talks about.

The patient sits on the table. We talk about scans and labs, the next infusion, the side effects, the plan for the next six weeks. ...

There is a moment we watch for on almost every call, and most people have no idea we are watching for it.

It comes when someone says, “Hold on, let me go grab my medication list.” They put both hands...