Finding your voice

My son’s teacher says he has a really good writer’s voice. When she told him so, she said he blushed. I can see him now: stiffening and slightly hunching his shoulders in a barely perceptible shift, looking down and off to the left side, but mouth upturned in the tiniest hint of a smile—or maybe a smirk. And then immediately turning to walk away as quickly as he can, possibly tripping on his feet but not letting that slow him down.

The idea of voice is what drew me to medicine and I suppose has faithfully sustained me through physician burnout and career doubts. The practice of medicine is, in the beginning, middle, and end, about helping patients tell their stories, and you can’t tell a story without having a voice. So we listen to people’s stories, help them tell their story, and most importantly, have the honor of guiding them through the rewriting, reframing, and renewal, so that they sound like themselves again. What are ways your voice is heard or not heard?