Follow the Leader

17 Sep

I read a really interesting post on the Harvard Business Review’s blog yesterday titled, “Convincing Employees to Use New Technology.” Any regular reader of my blog knows that I’m fascinated with new technologies, behavior change, and the intersection of the two. I’m particularly interested in how they come into play in science and in libraries, the two places where I spend my working hours. For all that technology has done to reshape both of these areas, I continue to be amazed at how reluctant many scientists and librarians are to try new things and adopt them into their work habits and processes. Despite a growing body of evidence that helps us see which tools work well and which don’t, what behavior changes improve efficiency and which create distraction, and how we can more effectively advance our information dissemination, sharing, and networking, many still say, “No thank you!

The post from HBR hits on several reasons that might explain the reluctance, not the least of which is the lack of investment companies or organizations or institutions place upon adoption of these tools. 

The real return on digital transformation comes from embedding new work practices into the processes, work flows, and ultimately the culture of organizations. But even in cases where the value of adoption is understood, cost containment often takes over. Faced with limited budgets, companies focus on the most tangible part first – deploying the technology. Adoption is left for later, and often “later” never comes. (Didier Bonnet)

I’ve observed this pattern on multiple occasions, but one of the clearest was when I was working on a study involving the use of Twitter to help people lose weight. The idea was that the microblogging service could be used to develop a free, easy to access, online support group that could supplement in-person meetings of people in a weight loss group. What we learned, though, is that unless people are already active users of Twitter, we needed to build in time and effort to help participants develop behavior patterns around communication that involved Twitter. Without this, we were really seeking two behavior changes instead of one, i.e. behavior changes around diet and exercise, as intended, but also the adoption of a social media tool. (See “Tweeting it off: characteristics of adults who tweet about a weight loss attempt,” Pagoto et al, Journal of the American Medical Informatics Association, 2014 Jun 13.)

I’m sure that you can think of your own experiences where your organization or department or library or university implemented a new intranet or new personal profile pages or a blog. “It’s a GREAT IDEA!,” everyone thinks, but then lacking much motivation or incentive to contribute to it, the new, great idea slowly finds its way to the big cloud of wikis that went nowhere. Over time, we become jaded and cynical and whenever we hear someone suggest the next newfangled new idea, we immediately think, “Yeah, right. Like that ever works.

Yet, recognizing this, I think the HBR post hits on a fact that can, in time, truly make a difference in the adoption of tools:

Lead by example. You can influence the transition to new digital ways of working by modeling the change you want to see happen – and by encouraging your colleagues to do so. For instance, actively participating on digital platforms and experimenting with new ways of communicating, collaborating, and connecting with employees. It is the first important step to earning the right to engage your organization. Coca-Cola faced huge challenges when it deployed its internal social collaboration platform. Only when Coca-Cola’s senior executives became engaged on the platform did the community become active. As the implementation leader put it, “With executive engagement, you don’t have to mandate activity.” (Didier Bonnet)

From the Journal of Cell Biology. Used with permission https://www.flickr.com/photos/thejcb/4117496025/

From the Journal of Cell Biology. Used with permission https://www.flickr.com/photos/thejcb/4117496025/

One of the scientific communities doing a lot of leading here is the neuroscience community. When I began working on the neuroimaging project, I was thrilled to see how active this community is online. They have well-developed data repositories, online journals, information portals, and resources for cloud computing. (See NITRC, as an example.) They have an awareness of and openness to the ideas of sharing; to moving their science forward by using the tools that make sharing so much easier today. Indeed, I was brought on to the neuroimaging project to help improve a few processes along these lines.

And then this morning, I saw an announcement of another new online tool launched for the neuroscience community, this one an extension of the Public Library of Science’s (PloS) Neuro Community, a site on the platform, Medium*, “created as a collaborative workspace for reporting news and discussion coming out of this year’s Society for Neuroscience Annual Meeting on November 15–20, 2014.” Moving past “simply” tweeting a meeting, the Society instead is thinking ahead and building a place for openly sharing, contributing, and reflecting before the meeting happens. And it will be successful. You know why? Because those who initiate these tools in the neuroscience community are the leaders of the community. They have been a part of their past investments, seen the pay off, and thus continue to invest more for the future.

We need this same kind of leadership in libraries, in the Academy, and in other areas of science. Those of us who see and/or have experienced the value of implementing new technologies into our work need to be fairly tireless in banging the can for them. We need to continue to lead by example and hopefully, in time, we will all reap the rewards.

*I’ve become a big fan of Medium over the past months as a place to keep up with a lot of interesting stories on the Web.

ACCESSories

12 Sep

For years, I lived on Lower Flying Point in Freeport, Maine, one of those fingers of land that stretches out into Casco Bay. You can get to Lower Flying Point one of two ways; Flying Point Road off of Bow Street, which is off of Main Street in Freeport (turn right at L.L. Bean) or Flying Point Road by way of Pleasant Hill Road by way of Highland Road by way of Maine Street in Brunswick, ME. You can probably tell, just by the description, that the former is the fastest, straightest route.

One summer, Mill Stream, which ultimately flows into and becomes the Harraseeket River, flooded. REALLY flooded. Over the banks and over the surrounding fields and over Bow Street/Flying Point Road. In its flooding, it took with it the very large culvert that ran underneath the road and, with the culvert also went the road itself. For weeks after, the only way to get to and from home was the very round-about and out-of-the way route through Brunswick. People were good sports about it, even though it was a major inconvenience and added as much as a half-hour to one’s commute, and when the road was finally re-opened, we hung balloons and had a party. Access restored.

In her book, Access to Medical Knowledge: Libraries, Digitization, and the Public Good, Frances Groen identifies three values that lie at the foundation of professional librarianship:

  • Providing access to information
  • Preserving the accumulated knowledge of the past
  • Helping the public understand how to use information

(Read a review of the book by Janice Kaplan in the July 2007 issue of JMLA.)

I’ve required the students in my Health Sciences Librarianship course at the University of Rhode Island to take part in one of the Thursday night #medlibs Twitter chats. Last night was an option and several were there, asking great questions and sharing in the discussion. The topic centered on the role of librarians in the clinical setting and was led by Julia Esparza, a Clinical Medical Librarian from LSU Health in Shreveport, LA. Julie asked some really pertinent questions around what it takes to have confidence in this role, what people most enjoy about it, and what some of the unique challenges to it are. My students expressed real surprise at how much clinical medical librarians can be involved in the hospital setting, particularly when it came to thinking about them being part of rounds, i.e. being at the patient’s bedside with the rest of the clinical team. To paraphrase… “What do patients think about that?” “How would I feel about it, if I was a patient?” “How does that make a patient feel, that a doctor has to look to a librarian for help finding information?”

Great questions, every last one of them! 

The medical profession is layered (and layered and layered) with levels of myth and entitlement and very entrenched beliefs about the respective roles of doctors and patients. Given our incredibly complex healthcare environment and the limitations of physicians in terms of how much time they have to spend with patients, there’s been a push for patients to become educated about their health, diseases, care, etc. Patients need advocates, be they a family member, friend, or stranger. It’s simply unwise to step into a situation involving yours or a loved one’s health, knowing little to nothing of what’s going on. But it happens all the time. Medical librarians, particularly those focused on consumer health resources, are tasked with providing access to the information that the public needs to be better prepared here. From the admonishment, “Don’t Google for Health Information!” to showcasing sites likes MedlinePlus to attending health fairs… medical librarians (and public librarians) are busy here, staying true to the values “Providing access to information” and “Helping the public understand how to use information.”

So how does this fit with librarians being a part of teams in the clinical setting? I argue that it’s merely an extension of the same. They are there to make sure that the doctors AND the patients have access to the information that they need, and they are there to make sure that everyone knows how to use it. But what does that mean? Providing access is one thing, but what does it mean to help someone understand how to use information? Doctors are there to diagnose, we all agree with this, but for the patient who doesn’t understand the information presented to them, does the librarian, perhaps, have a role in helping them understand it? After all, doesn’t understanding how to use information depend upon understanding what the information means in the first place?

Not being a clinical librarian, I really only have opinions here – not much actual experience or evidence to fall back upon. However, if I translate this setting to my own, i.e. the research team, and think of my role as a librarian there, are there any parallels? I think so.

There’s a debate among those who take part in systematic reviews and in-depth searches regarding how much a librarian should do. Do we simply develop and execute the search strategy, and then pass off the results to the rest of the team for review? Are we breaking some rule if we review the articles, too? Is it taboo for us to write synopses of papers, evaluations of them, or give our own thoughts upon whether or not they are worthy of inclusion in the study? Can we take the lead in writing more than the methodology of a systematic review? Can we make suggestions, share informed opinions, and discuss the topics at hand that extend beyond the subject of librarianship? 

For me, the answer to these questions lies at the heart of what it means to truly be embedded in the setting, be it research or clinical. It’s about being an equal part of the team and while each member has his/her level and/or area of expertise, to be more than an accessory, you need to step up and be equal – equally responsible, equally accountable, and equally invested. If I can explain some information to someone, to me that is part of helping someone understand how to use it. It’s a core value. To stop short of this because I believe that it’s not my role or not my responsibility, that’s falling short of what I believe is my professional place. 

I was in the hospital last month and while there, I overheard my medical team (just docs, no librarian) in the hallway talking about my EKG. The resident and attending doc were explaining to the medical student about the length of my QT segment and what my R wave progression might be telling them. I wanted to yell out into the hallway and tell them that I’d had a couple of semesters of cardiac electrophysiology as an undergrad and grad student, and ask if they might wish to come in the room and talk to me about it. But I didn’t. I listened to what they said about me in the hallway and then listened to what they said to me when they came to my bedside. And they were, as you can imagine, quite different.

After last night’s chat and then thinking about the questions and observations of my students, I wondered how this experience might have gone differently if a medical librarian was there. And then I realized that a medical librarian WAS there. Granted, I was the patient and really in no mood to make it a teachable moment, but that’s what it was. I could have talked to the doctors and let them know that I knew how to use the information they weren’t sharing with me. I could have said that as a medical librarian, it’s my job to make sure people know how to use the information they have. It’s not just my job to provide access to it. If this means explaining something – or making sure the clinician explains something – in a way that the patient understands it, then that’s what I do. I like to think that our role is a heckuva lot more than simply being a culvert.

 

 

Old Brains, New Tricks

5 Sep

ShallowsI recently had a very odd health scare that landed me in the hospital for a couple of days. That was a first. Lots of tests later, I’m pronounced A-OK. Hooray! One of the tests I had was an MRI of my brain. In his notes back to me via my health record, my doc told me that I have a very young brain for my age and ever since, my mantra has been, “I’m young at brain.”

Our brains are fascinating things, aren’t they? I’ve been reading Nicholas Carr’s book, The Shallows: What the Internet is Doing to Our Brains, this week. A neuroscience page-turner, I tell you, as well as a great social critique of our techno-centric world. Our brains’ feature of plasticity is amazing. It ability to change and adapt and mold its neural pathways into all sorts of routes is amazing. I highlighted the following passage, thinking of how true it is both literally and metaphorically:

The adult brain, it turns out, is not just plastic but, as James Olds, a professor or neuroscience who directs the Krasnow Institute for Advanced Study at George Mason University, put it, “very plastic.” Or, as Merzenich himself says, “massively plastic.” The plasticity diminishes as we get older – brains do get stuck in their ways – but it never goes away. Our neurons are always breaking old connections and forming new ones, and brand-new nerve cells are always being created. “The brain,” observes Olds, “has the ability to reprogram itself on the fly, altering the way it functions.”

It seems like we’re hardwired for flexibility and change, despite how much we tend to not like it. Sometimes I reflect on a decade of being a librarian and it seems like one big change. Very little has stayed constant, aside from my physical location. I’ve remained in my same cubicle since the day that I arrived here, not something that everyone in my Library can say. But my job, focus, skill set, projects, responsibilities, colleagues… these have all changed, and generally more than once. Being a librarian is, in some ways, like being a brain. And plasticity best be a part of it. We’d better be able to reprogram and alter ourselves on the fly, too, if we want to be successful and/or remain relevant. 

Yesterday, I went to a lunchtime talk on campus. It was in the Faculty Conference Room, a large room with many round tables set up around the room. I saw a table of my colleagues across the way, but after I picked up my lunch, I sat the table next to them. I didn’t really even think about it. It’s become my “neural pathway” to mix and mingle at these events. It’s become my habit to meet new people and strike up conversations with them about what they do, wherever I go on campus. My empty table soon became filled up with 7 people that I’d never met before. They included the Associate Vice Chancellor for HR Diversity Management, someone from our Office of Communications, a recruiter for a research study, two lab researchers, and a student. I learned that our Associate Vice Chancellor studied engineering, of all things. “How did you get from engineering to human resources and diversity?” I asked her. “It’s all about solving problems,” she replied. 

I learned that we have a relatively new Vice Chancellor of Communications. I learned that one of our large, multi-site research studies that I know about is drawing to a close. I learned that people are curious about social media and how to use it in their jobs. All at my one table. And… everyone at my table met a librarian that they didn’t know before that lunch. And they learned a bit about the Library, too. We all made connections. 

This isn’t the way that I used to do my job. It’s not how I used to view and think about people throughout the Medical School, i.e. constantly making connections, both in my mind and in person. My “young for my age” brain has changed over time and I’ve learned to do these things almost second nature. And I’m sure that over more time, I’ll continue to let the plasticity of my brain do it’s thing. I’m willing to bet that old brains doing new tricks will keep ourselves, and our profession, healthy.

Postscript: After publishing this, I happened to see a tweet that said Nicholas Carr will  be a speaker at this year’s Boston Book Festival. I’ll be sure to try and catch him, if I’m not dressed up as a book character when he’s speaking!

Labor Today, Rest on Monday!

29 Aug

Happy Labor Day, everyone! Follow the most excellent advice found in this NY Times Op-Ed piece by Clive Thompson and take some time for yourself! 

Labor-Day

Repeat After Me

22 Aug

Reproduction

Reproducibility is the ability of an entire experiment or study to be reproduced, either by the researcher or by someone else working independently. It is one of the main principles of the scientific method and relies on ceteris paribus. Wikipedia

I was going to start this post with a similar statement in my own words, but couldn’t resist the chance to quote Latin. It always makes you sound so smart. But regardless of whether these are a Wikipedia author’s words or my own, the point is the same – one of the foundations of good science is the ability to reproduce the results.

My work for the neuroimaging project involves developing a process for researchers in this field to cite their data in such a way that makes their work more easily reproducible. The current practice of citing data sets alone doesn’t always make reproducibility possible. A researcher might take different images from a number of different data sets to create an entirely new data set, in which case citing the previous sets in whole doesn’t tell exactly which images are being used. Thus, this gap can make the final research harder to replicate, as well as more difficult to review. We think that we may have a way to help fix this problem and that’s what I’ve been working on for the past few months.

At the same time, I’ve been working on a systematic review with the members of the mammography study team. This work has me locating and reading and discussing a whole slew of articles about the use of telephone call reminders to increase the rate of women receiving a mammogram within current clinical guidelines. It also has me wondering about the nature of clinical research and the concept of reproducible science, for in all of my work, I’ve yet to come across any two studies that are exactly alike. In other words, it doesn’t seem to be common practice for anyone to repeat anyone else’s study. And I can’t help but wonder why this is so.

I imagine it has something to do with funding. Will a funding agency award money to a proposal that seeks to repeat something; something unoriginal? Surely they are more apt to look to fund new ideas.

Maybe it has to do with scientific publishing. Like funding agencies, publishers probably much prefer to publish new ideas and new findings. Who wants to read an article that says the same thing as one they read last year?

Of course, it may also be that researchers look to improve on previous studies, rather than simply repeat them. This is what I see in all of the papers I’ve found for this particular systematic review. The methods are tweaked from study to study; the populations differ just a bit, the length of time varies, etc. It makes sense. The goal of this body of research is to determine what intervention works the best and in changing things slightly, you might just find the answer. What has me baffled about this process, though, is that as we continue to tweak this aspect or that aspect of a study’s methodology, when and/or how do we ever discover what aspect actually works and then put it into practice? 

Working on this particular review, I’ve collected easily 50+ relevant articles, yet as we pull them together – consolidate them to discover any conclusions – the task seems, at times, impossible. Too often, despite the relevancy of the articles to the question asked, what you really end up comparing is apples to oranges. How does this get to the heart of scientific discovery? How does it influence or generate “best practice”? I can’t help but wonder.

Yesterday, during my library’s monthly journal club, we discussed an article that had been recommended reading to me by one of the principal investigators on the mammography study. How to Read a Systematic Review and Meta-analysis and Apply the Results to Patient Care, is the latest User’s Guide on the subject from the Journal of the American Medical Association (JAMA). It prompted a lively session about everything from how research is done, to how medical students are taught to read the literature, to how the media portrays medical news. I recommend it.

Of course, there are many explanations to my question and many factors at play. My wondering and our journal club discussion doesn’t afford any concrete solution and/or answer, still I feel it’s a worthwhile topic for medical librarians to think about. If you have any thoughts, please keep the discussion going in the comments section below.

Hello Darkness, My Old Friend

12 Aug

[This is not an ordinary post for this blog, but this is not an ordinary day.

Photo by Charles Haynes, FLICKR, Creative Commons

Photo by Charles Haynes, FLICKR, Creative Commons

 

Robin Williams

July 21, 1951 – August 11, 2014

His death is a shock. The tributes from the many people who knew and/or loved him continue to spread across every form of media. People are sad. I am sad. Robin Williams’ death is sad. But it is the thoughts and images of his suffering, the unfathomable depth of pain, and the cruelty of depression, that leaves me heartbroken. Many people more qualified than I can and will speak to the disease that took his life. Many people will share of the importance of reaching out and finding help when depression hits and/or life becomes too much to bear. Asking for help is hard, though, and harder still when one is dealing with a disease that takes rational thought away. 

Maybe one small thing that can ease that barrier is knowing someone who knows what you’re going through. If you sense that there’s at least one other soul who experiences what you experience, maybe that person is a lifeline to another day. Maybe. And maybe this is why I’ve noticed a number of people sharing their experiences over the past 24 hours. Rob Delaney, Kathleen Edwards, Harvey Fierstein… these are just a few celebrities that I follow who I’ve seen post thoughts; telling readers or fans, in a way, that they are not alone.

I’m not a celebrity by any stretch of my imagination, but there is something about Williams’ death and the public reaction that makes me want to share a story, too. My story. For me, clinical depression is a palpable black cloud that hovers over my shoulder. It is a dark basement. A place of unhealthy solitude; of isolation. It is both terrifying and seductive and that, for me, is the crux of the cruelty that this disease can be. Sometimes, it can be exhausting to ward it off. Scarier still, is how it first appeared (from Ordinary Year, Chapter 1):

**********

So in the summer of 2009, I was in a healthy, well-established, loving relationship. I lived in a nice apartment, had nice neighbors, a dog and a cat, and interests both in and outside of work. I’d been sober for years. I dabbled in writing. I learned to play the mandolin. I reconciled with my brother, a relationship that had been damaged for a decade. I finally got to know my nieces and nephew, and the chance to start being an aunt to them. They wanted both Lynn and me to be in their lives. Things with my dad were so-so. We didn’t see each other very often, but I don’t see any of my family very often. Still, we were all okay. Everything was okay.

But every day, from late May through September, I cried. At some point, every day, I found it impossible to stop the tears from falling. I’d turn to the wall in my cubicle to hide my face, grabbing tissues and hoping no one noticed. I’d be in my car, driving to or from work, and start sobbing. I started to wonder if I was going a bit mad.

I knew that I was lonely for some of my old friends and so I decided to make a trip to Louisville to reconnect with some of them. I ordered my plane tickets and started to think about sitting at a patio table outside of a coffee shop, talking for hours with one of my closest confidantes, Dina. I thought about catching up with my good friend Kevin. I thought of taking Dina’s kids trick or treating. I looked forward to some time on my own, some time for myself. It would be a good, well-needed and well-deserved long weekend.

A few weeks before my planned trip, I was walking from the parking lot to the library, to work, when the thought crossed my mind that it might not be a bad thing if the plane I took from Providence to Louisville crashed. I had no plans to make it crash and I didn’t exactly wish for it to crash, but the thought of it crashing gave me such a feeling of relief. It would finally be over.

It scared the hell out of me.

**********

Thanks to medication and a few years of therapy, I’ve learned how to live with the darkness. I’ve learned how to recognize it. I’ve learned how to ask for help before that voice gets silenced. It’s heartbreaking when that voice dies. And it’s heartbreaking, the lives it takes with it.

To echo the message of so many others in health care, if you feel you’re struggling with depression, seek medical care. If you’re experiencing thoughts of suicide, there are people who can help. National Suicide Prevention Lifeline, 1-800-273-TALK (8255).

This, That, and a Bit of The Other Thing

8 Aug

I like to make the cards that I give to people. Yes, I too often give in and buy the prefabricated ones, but even then, I try very hard to pick ones out that are blank inside, not substituting anyone else’s words for my own. I like the handmade touch. I have a small box with several cards that I made for my mom when I was a child. They are special. My mom treasured them enough to keep for herself and now, I keep them myself. Crayon-scribbled, “You are the best mom” accompanied by a cut-out, construction paper flower is worth saving.

 

A couple of cards that I made for my mom.

A couple of cards that I made for my mom.

Besides the sentimentality of handmade items, they also share the message that the sender took a bit more time to make something just for you. I’m not knocking the time one can spend searching the shelves at the Hallmark store for just the right message, but you must admit that taking the time to make that right message says just a little something more. 

I thought about making cards earlier this week when I followed along with a listserv discussion about the practice of sending weekly articles, messages, and updates to patrons. A number of participants shared some very helpful resources – aggregators, if you will – for delivering timely pieces. It’s both easy and resourceful to subscribe to them. They scour the internet for stories about the latest medical procedure, disease outbreak, trend in healthcare, etc., and send them right to your email inbox for quick reading. Some even annotate them for you, so that you don’t have to be bogged down reading more than seven paragraphs. The suggestion offered in the discussion was to share these feeds with administrators or doctors or researchers or whoever your target audience is. It’s a great idea, but as I thought about it, the practice reminded me of buying a greeting card instead of making one yourself.

Libraries and librarians have given up a great deal of their identity (their brand) over the past years. The full-text of articles are often accessed through third-party vendors or the websites of journals, despite the fact that it’s one’s library that’s often providing the resource. We buy catalogs developed by other companies, rather than developing homegrown management systems. We embed RSS feeds from other sources into our own websites.

And each and every one of these practices saves both time and money, but at what cost?

I got to wondering how much time it would really take to subscribe to a relevant aggegator or journal table of contents, or to set up a few alerts from custom-saved searches, or to put together several Twitter lists that follow sources specific to a group or department I serve. Then I could use these tools to create my own, customized delivery of an article or an interesting piece of news to the same. Think of the return on the investment I’d get by sending a personal note directly to someone with the resource attached, as compared to the same coming from an automated – and branded by someone else – source. Now, I can already hear some naysayers saying, “I don’t have time to keep up with that.” Maybe not, but I think it might be worth a try.

A full shelf of writing and reading, plus Finz. And an autographed baseball. And a holiday ornament. Librarians don't need to be organized at home.

A full shelf of writing and reading, plus Finz. And an autographed baseball. And a holiday ornament. Librarians don’t need to be organized at home.

Related, another thing that I often hear people say is that we don’t have time to read ____ (insert whatever it is that you don’t have time to read – blog posts, journal articles, interesting pieces from the news). Similarly, many say that we don’t have time to write _____ (insert whatever it is that you don’t have time to write – blog posts, journal articles, etc.). This a dilemma. To paraphrase Stephen King (the writer), if you want to be in the information business, you need to do two things above all others; read a lot of information and write a lot of information. How else can you stay on top of it? How else can you provide good information resources to those you serve? How do we call ourselves information professionals if we ignore the very thing that we’re supposedly experts in? We work in a fast-paced and rapidly changing profession. All the more reason to do those two things above all others. Read and write.

I write a post for this blog each week. Thanks to the kind words of many colleagues, not to mention usage statistics, I know that people read it. But I also read the writings of colleagues and other people who provide so much insight, interest, and entertainment to my work, that I can’t imagine how lousy I’d be at my job without them. With this stated, I’m sharing several really good things that crossed my radar over the past week. If you can find a moment or two to read them, you may find it worth your while:

  • Data Dictionaries, a blog post by Kristin Briney. If you’re charged with the task of managing data, at any level, Kristin’s blog is worth following and this particular piece is a great one to bookmark, because it’s really hard to find good posts and good examples on the topic.  
  • Your Two Kinds of Memory: Electronic and Organic, by Annie Murphy Paul. Medical librarians are forever grousing about a certain resource that’s ever-so-popular with doctors and medical students alike. Annie’s post offers an entirely different reason for concern.
  •  There’s a new series debuting on Cinemax soon about the early days of surgery in the United States. Period medical drama. “The Knick” is the creation of Steven Soderbergh and stars Clive Owen, so it surely has potential to be good. After ‘The Knick': 7 Fascinating Books on the History of Medicine offers critique and … well, suggestions for further reading. (From the blog for the site, Word & Film.)
  • The Trouble with Medicine’s Metaphors is an article by Dhruv Khullar for the Atlantic. Khullar is currently doing a residency at the Massachusetts General Hospital and Harvard Medical School. Maybe it’s because I majored in philosophy, maybe because I love linguistics, maybe because I was in the hospital last week… for many reasons, I found this a great read.

Finally, I always read Amy Dickinson’s advice column. I need all of the everyday, practical advice that I can get. And my friend, Suzy Becker, wrote a most wonderful blog post to go along with the release of her latest book from Random House Kids this week. Author-Daughter Book Club just about made me cry in my cubicle. In a good way. Moms of sons and daughters, both, will enjoy it. I give shout outs to these two writers who, many days, make my day. 

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