Collapsing Work-Life Balance in Covid-19

Amala Poli // The beep of the phone.. thudding heart, fingers clicking away. “Is everything okay?”  Yes, you say. “I just had to reply to this one email. All done now!” You set it aside, eyes flickering in the direction of the screen just a little.

Our Olympian Fables: On difficult personalities

Steve Server// The Perfectionist.  The Eccentric.  The Paranoiac.  The Loner.  The Mercurial Partner.  The Serial Dater.  The Sociopath.  The Narcissist.  The Coquette.  The Milquetoast. Archetypes of difficult personalities populate our books, our movies, and our TV shows. Where do they come from?  How do we understand their social function? It is worth considering the extent to which these archetypes are borne or at least informed…

Book Review: Narrative Art and the Politics of Health

Steven Rhue //  Narrative Art and the Politics of Health stands out as wonderful collection of essays that unites disparate stories of health and wellbeing entangled with in the politics of medicine and healing. Brooks and Blanchette have carefully organized this assortment of writings in three thematic divisions. Part 1 of the volume concerns institutional narratives that confront…

The Tiger in the Waiting Room–Addressing Moral Stress in Medicine

Jane Desmond, Ph.D. // Is our medical training, medical practice, and our research in the health humanities adequately recognizing and responding to moral stress?  Are some populations, specialties, or jobs within healthcare more likely to experience it? [How] can we imagine future systems of care that alleviate this type of stress among practitioners?

Trump, Madness, Tricolon Crescendos

Pasquale S. Toscano // Madness is therefore defined to be a vehement dotage, or raving without a fever, far more violent than melancholy, full of anger and clamour, horrible looks, actions, gestures, troubling the patients with far greater vehemency both of body and mind, without all fear and sorrow, with such impetuous force and boldness…

Grieving in a Pandemic

Sara Press // On a warm day in October, I found myself staring at fallen leaves in a forested burial ground in Toronto. My parents and I stood back from the constellation of mourners, all of whom had been asked to sign their names on a contact tracing form before entering the service. We surrounded…