I love Grady.

I have discovered that I love Grady Memorial Hospital. I didn't want to make a snap judgment. At first, the sheer complexity of the layout baffled me, as did the uncanny locations of different services. Also, lots of people hang around the front entrance along the city block of Jesse Hill that's cordoned off between Armstrong and Gilmer for foot traffic only. People of all ages are in various states of disarray, colorful array, intense cellphone conversations, out-loud yelling throw-downs, random-talking, rummaging, smoking, etc. At first I found myself on-edge in the Front-of-Grady gauntlet. Now I rather enjoy it, especially in the morning when things are just beginning to stir.

Now that I've done a few rotations at Grady (actually the transition happened around my second week of surgery), I find the layout less baffling and more interesting. I love the fact that it's a historically rich hospital, though I don't know the entire history. I enjoy the strip out front of Grady: you never know what you'll hear, or what outfits you'll see, or which of your former patients you'll bump into. I've personally been loudly complimented on my appearance a couple of times out in front of Grady :). The things I love most about Grady are the views from its generous old-timey windows. Okay, a lot of the windows look directly onto brick walls, or are completely encrusted with oxidized A/C drip, or are tinted a dingy sort of gray so nothing looks good out of them. But many offer sweeping vistas (see above) of city and sky. Imagine: walking into a patient room, realizing they lucked out with their view, and letting them know: Hey! You got a great view! Will you pretty please keep your blind up? I feel so sad when the blinds are broken in the down position.

I like Grady because it has flava. Up one side and down the other: flava. People in turbans, people in neon, people with intentionally-torn clothing. Friendly people who will talk to you. Crazy people who will talk to you. People who have not taken care of themselves who will talk to you. They haven't taken care of themselves less out of stubbornness and more because they have NO model for doing so, no resources to draw upon, no cultural value assigned to healthliness, etc. They eat what they eat and they do what they do to kill the pain of: loneliness, indebtedness, sadness, guilt, anger, poverty. For instance, here's a van that says a lot:

I can't believe this thing still goes. It may be younger on the inside than it is on the outside, which is actually what I'm hoping for my own self. Apparently, when this minivan does muster up the courage to go, it goes to Grady.

Lots of people really need help - more help than Grady ever will be able to give. On one hand, most of Grady's clientele will flout doctor's orders faster than you can say Jack Robinson. On the other hand, what choice do they have? Realistically, I mean. They're making something work that just barely works. Ingenuity beyond pride. There's something to it. John Ector used to say about Cheetos (my very favorite trash food): they'll keep you alive. I'm not saying these modes of living are good, but I am saying it's good to be there at Grady and in among it. It's good to shake hands with my patient and see him imagine a brighter future with fewer COPD exacerbations...or maybe no more lengths of limb amputated.

It's up to me, in that moment, to believe against rationality that they can do it. I don't know how much this really helps...which is why public health is where the money is. I don't have any good way in mind to relieve the ATL from the larger evils: coca cola, cheez doodles, little debbies, vienna sausages, 40 oz beers, and crack. I don't have any suggestion that will handily do away with black-on-black violence, motorcycles, prostitution, child sex trafficking, or intimate partner violence. Education that somehow doesn't work (no finger pointing; teachers are awesome people). We are so screwed, as a whole. But we have GOT to start somewhere. Why not the DASH diet?