X-rays, and a walk through the garden.

History tells us that it’s all going to be OK, and not OK, for all of us, in the long run.

Last week I needed some x-rays. I walked a half mile from my front door to the oldest hospital in the United States, Pennsylvania Hospital. It was founded by Benjamin Franklin and Thomas Bond in May of 1751, two hundred seventy-two years ago. Another signer of the Declaration of Independence, Dr. Benjamin Rush, practiced medicine here for decades, including during the Yellow Fever epidemic of 1793. That mosquito-borne epidemic killed 5,000 of the city’s 50,000 people and drove another fearful 20,000 out of the city.

I walked around the lush, blooming grounds of the old hospital before heading in for my tests. The first cornerstone of the hospital was laid in 1754 and bears an original inscription by Benjamin Franklin. It was carved in stone and lies unceremoniously below the grade of a brick walkway. You can easily miss it, and it’s too worn to read without difficulty. Fortunately, there are 2 plaques hanging above the cornerstone with the inscription reproduced:

In the Year of Christ,
1755
George the second happily reigning;
(For he sought the Happiness of his People)
Philadelphia flourishing,
(For its Inhabitants were publick-spirited),
This Building,
By the Bounty of the Government,
And of many private Persons,
Was piously founded,
For the Relief of the Sick and Miserable.
May the God of Mercies
Bless the Undertaking!

The line that caused me to reflect for a moment is: Philadelphia flourishing, for its inhabitants were public-spirited.

In the first years of the SARS-CoV-2 pandemic we were all called upon to be more public-spirited than perhaps we had ever genuinely been before. To varying degrees we sacrificed time, money, happiness, friendships, sleep, mental health, physical health, and for some of us our very lives.

Over 5,000 Philadelphians have died. Again. We all take our turns as the sick and miserable, Covid or not, and often seek relief in the medical buildings of the world. Yet it is never the buildings that can bring us health, compassion, and comfort. It is the people.

Walking a bit further, I came across this large metal sign, dedicating an evergreen garden.

In recognition of our exceptional physicians, nurses, and employees for their courage, professionalism, unwavering commitment and compassion during the 2020-2021 COVID-19 Pandemic. Our community will forever be grateful for your heroic efforts past, present and future.
Dedicated in March 2021, on the one-year anniversary of the declaration of the Global Pandemic.

"Without continual growth and progress, such words as improvement, achievement, and success have no meaning."
- Benjamin Franklin

I appreciated these words. I walked around as a patient, but underneath my civilian clothes I wore the same professional armor. The world moves on, as it must, but we must not forget. We’re still more than a bit damaged from the traumas we’ve seen and experienced. And it all keeps stirring. The suffering, the disease, the degeneration. That’s the nature of life in general, and this pandemic in particular.

Where is our debriefing at mission’s end? When is our return home from the forever war?

Resident physicians enjoyed a maskless reprieve outside as they discussed, planned, and coordinated the care of their inpatients. The one presenting his cases at that moment was kneeling. Kneeling might have been a simple stretch, or a gesture of dedication to a higher calling. A display of humility in the shadow of a greater power. Kneeling before the grandeur of this 250-year-old mighty oak, about which I’ve written previously, his stance was symbolic of all these notions combined.

I went in for my simple x-rays, but not before I smelled the flowers. I smelled them with every cliched, unoriginal, and glorious “being in the moment” I could muster. Did I mention it was a beautiful day? The sky blue and full of little birds and pollinators. It was like those beautiful days when the pandemic started in the spring of 2020. The planes were grounded. Humans were cloistered. And the natural world could be heard and seen again from behind bars and temporary enclosures as we howled.

The x-rays showed structures within me. The technician, knowing that I was both the doctor ordering and the patient receiving the x-rays, allowed me to take a look at the images. My own bones. They looked alright to me.

History tells us that it’s all going to be OK, and not OK, for all of us, in the long run.

~