Louise Aronson's Blog

On the afternoon of Monday, May 4 2020, I was in clinic well, pandemic clinic. I was sitting at my home desk talking to a patient via Zoom on my smartphone while charting into our electronic medical record on my computer. Suddenly, a flurry of emails and other alerts flashed on the upper right of my computer screen and texts began appearing on my phone.

I registered this as: unusual.

Because we are in the midst of pandemic, although I would not normally stray from the patient visit, I...

Yesterday, as I was talking to a patient about how he might exercise during the pandemic, I suggested he pair the (far less desirable or interesting to him) indoor workouts with something he really enjoys. He loves to read.

Do you like books on tape? I asked.

No, he answered then explained that his wife loves her Kindle but to him a book must be a book. He likes the feel of it, the heft and smell and sensory experience.

I dont disagree, though my middle aged eyes are fond of the e-book...

Sometimes good intentions backfire. That’s what happened with Boston’s Age Strong Campaign. Organized by Boston’s Aging Commission with support from the Mayor, the campaign aims to dispel stereotypes about old people and promote positive messaging about aging. Unfortunately, it risks doing just the opposite.

For starters, although the word “strong” is a heartfelt choice for Boston, Boston Age Strong reinforces the notion that optimal function, attractiveness, and independence determine a...

From the moment I started medical school and for years thereafter, my friends called about bladder infections, birth control, and the occasional poison oak or ivy. As we moved into our forties, those calls gave way to ones about aging parents. Now in my fifties, my friends have begun asking about themselves and their partners as well. Cancers mostly, though occasionally something neurological, a new diagnosis every four to six months.

I’m sorry to bother you with this, they say. Or: I know I...

Last week, Susan Pascal from Maria Shriver’s Sunday Paper sent me four smart, provocative questions about aging and old age. These were the questions:

One summer’s evening in 2017, Kai Ryssdal’s familiar, sonorous voice filled my car. It’s a great voice, deep yet warm, amused and insightful. That voice and Ryssdal’s radio persona are so appealing that one of my colleagues named his son Kai.

I looked at the clock – yup, Marketplace time. Business and economics are not great interests of mine, but I’m always up for that show’s particular brand of econotainment. As I turned onto the freeway, Ryssdal started a story about American banking.

“You...

In his essay “Age, Actually,” Teju Cole writes about Michael Haneke’s movie Amour. The couple at the film’s core are fine at the film’s beginning – old but intact. Then the wife, Anne, smart and sarcastic until then, has a stroke and develops dementia. “Georges insists on being her caretaker,” Cole tells us, and the unspoken implication is that this choice is unnecessary and foolhardy; there are places to outsource people like Anne.

For much of the rest of the film, Georges and Anne move thro...

On September 14 2017, the day after a Florida nursing home lost air conditioning when a tree fell on their transformer in the wake of Hurricane Irma NPR’s Morning Edition referred to the home’s residents as “nursing home patients.” Are the words ‘home’ and ‘patient’ not oxymoronic, I wondered? Only hours later did it occur to me that ‘nursing’ and ‘home’ posed similar challenges, while ‘nursing’ and ‘patient’ went together perfectly. I began to wonder whether one could legitimately call a pla...

I have been fired by a patient – explicitly and to my face – just once. It happened during my first year after residency, and although I can no longer recall the patient’s name, I can still see her pretty face, carefully styled hair, and barely contained terror. Certainly, I remember when she stood up from the chair beside my exam room desk and announced that she had liked and trusted me, but this changed everything….

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This month I focus exclusively on writings by and about the writer-neurosurgeon, Paul Kalanithi, who died last year at age 37.I didn’t know him, and I only met his wife briefly years ago. So this isn’t personal or coyly promotional. It’s just admiration and awe for a life, the small oeuvre of a gifted writer, and some of the writings he inspired.

If you haven’t read him yet: do. You may cry, but you won’t be sorry. And if you cry, only some of the tears will be because of the story. Others wi...