After completing my internal medicine residency and chief year at University of Pittsburgh Medical Center, I returned home to Los Angeles, CA to start a post-doctoral fellowship called the National Clinician Scholars Program at UCLA. With my student loan debt and familial responsibilities, I searched for opportunities to earn additional income during my training. I came across an independent agency that advertised a per diem gig that would work with my schedule. A few days after submitting my CV, I received a phone call from this agency and the woman hesitantly asked me, “We are very interested in your application but…. I have to tell you that this job entails caring for inmates at the Los Angeles County Jail. Would you still be interested?” My answer was a quick and enthusiastic “Yes, absolutely!” because I saw this as an opportunity to fulfill my wildest dreams.
My wildest dreams began with the meaning of my name. In Ge’ez, the ancient language of the Ethiopian Orthodox church, my name means “trees growing besides a stream, trees that produce fruit in season and always have leaves.” Over time, I have realized that my name is not only a manifestation of my purpose but also my passion— to be a physician who not only cares for individuals, but who seeks to ensure just, equitable and effective health care for entire populations. My passion for underserved populations stems from being a product of one. I am a first generation Ethiopian-American, who internalized the stories of my parents’ upbringing, culture, and immigration to the United States. These stories instilled a consciousness of various perspectives and a sense of responsibility to find and fulfill my purpose. Throughout my medical education, I have explored many vehicles by which I can satisfy this passion; through direct patient care, teaching medical students and residents, health services research, and policy. As an internist, I have learned to translate the words of my patients and to interpret physical manifestation of their illness in order to make diagnoses and prescribe treatment. But my patients have also taught me to search beyond the afflictions of the body. Hidden inside their narratives are clues to problems that plague our entire healthcare system and our society.
These ailments were sorely evident throughout my experience as a physician responsible for evaluating patients in one of America’s largest jails— the Los Angeles County Twin Towers Correctional Facility. My work happened from 6am to 2p in the Inmate Reception Center where male inmates are held for up to 72 hours (sometimes more) so they can be evaluated by a healthcare provider who conducts a history and physical to “medically clear” them before they are housed and/or released.
* All patient names have been modified to maintain their anonymity. I write this blog to share human aspects of medicine as it intersects with the criminal justice system and to highlight the ailments of society, but never at the expense of patient privacy or dignity.
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Letter 22.
Dear Future JailMD, Three years ago, the metal sliding doors slammed behind me, and fear settled in, but little did I know that it opened a door into a world that would change me forever. Before embarking on this journey in medicine, I was centered in serving disadvantaged communities that I am a product of… Read more
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Letter 21.
Dear Mr. Trapped, Your distance travelled was visible in your weathered skin covered with tattoos of where you’re from and a long white beard that reached your belly. When we got to talking about why you were in the detox unit, I think you were caught off guard when I congratulated you on your 5… Read more
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Letters to my Patients (in Jail) 