narrative medicine

Yesterday evening Craig, one of my professors — a balding philosopher whose kindness and skill has completely renversé (there is no good English word for this!) my conceptions of philosophy — invited the program to his apartment in Riverdale for a Salon — a night of food, friends, and entertainment.

This was considerably less awkward than the preceptor dinners I’ve been to as a medical student. Perhaps because the program is so small, perhaps because everyone is on first name terms. But I loved being there for the same reasons I loved my residential college: a sense of community, a sense of contribution, a sense of … validation? I know the term “safe space” is often politically correct flack, but the atmosphere last night was so welcoming and warm that it felt indeed a safe space. I hadn’t brought anything to read, but I wished I had. And you know how much I hate reading in a group.

Also, the chili was delicious.

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