Anton Chekhov in the ER
“To whom shall I tell my grief?” sighs Iona Potatov, the main character of Anton Chekhov’s 1886 short story, “Misery.” This question echoes in my head often, particularly during overnight ER shifts when I struggle to make sense of vague patient complaints, stories told in vexing drips and evasive responses. Continue reading →
In a democracy, political animals reign supreme; recently, the 24-hour, non-stop, binge-inducing, all-consuming social media train ride that is barreling down the tracks to Election Day appears to be on a collision course with our lives—and no sign of a course correction is in sight.
In the era of personal technology, you might find it difficult to step away from the madness long enough to hit pause and take a breath. Between Trump’s tweets and Hillary’s email leaks, the phenomenon of FOMO is in full effect. Perhaps you find yourself fiercely loyal to one of the candidates, convinced that a loss for your team would bring about immediate Armageddon; or perhaps you are merely a political junkie, refreshing FiveThirtyEight.com twice a minute for the thrill of the chase. Continue reading →