Clash Of Cultures

14. Advocacy Week

Noor

'It's not the cold that gets ya, it's the wind' - said every Midwesterner ever!

If I heard that phrase one more time, I was seriously going to punch something. I knew that Chicago was going to be cold. Which is exactly why I had spent all my paycheck on a down jacket, heated gloves, and snow boots. And that was on top of thermal undergarments, woolen pants, and sweaters. Yet no matter how many layers of clothes I wore, the cold somehow seeped in through all of them. The snow and ice on the sidewalks made my 20-minute walk between home and work a nightmare. Kimberly had said that no one is a true Chicagoan until they have slipped and fallen on ice at least once. Well...that happened in the first 5 mins of my first snow in the city.

At least I passed that rite of passage! And I will never walk on the metal grates again.

Today the pediatric residents from our Children's Hospital were making a day trip to the state senate in Springfield, IL. We were going to take part in the annual 'Advocacy Week', a week dedicated to advocating on behalf of the most vulnerable population for better services, healthcare and facilities. We each picked one topic that we were passionate about and were going to approach the state senators to appraise them of the problem and what we thought may be a solution.

I had chosen to talk about how difficult it is for families to take care of their hospitalized children, especially those that were chronically ill. Amd was going to propose that employers of such parents should allow flexible work hours and the parents should have access to benefits such as subsidized housing near hospitals.

Kimberly, Scott and I had decided to catch a ride with Sal, since he was the only one we knew who owned a car. Admittedly, I was a bit reluctant to be stuck in the same car with Sal for almost 6 hours, given our history. But after our 'truce' a few weeks ago, we hadn't gotten into another argument. Though, I had only interacted briefly with him at teaching conferences and resident meetings, so maybe there was just a lack of opportunity, rather than a change in his intentions.

One day he had texted me that he found a therapist that he liked. He never mentioned how his sessions were going, but he looked a lot happier and more relaxed than I had ever seen him before. There is significant stigma associated with mental health illnesses in not just the Muslim community, but also among physicians, so despite our tumultuous relationship, I was really proud of him for seeking therapy.

"Are you ready?", Kimberly asked as she grabbed her purse and got into the back of the car.

"Hell yes!", I said through quivering lips.

Scott had already put his stuff in the backseat, so I dove into the front passenger seat of Sal's warm car.

Scott and Sal got into the car as soon they finished clearing snow off the car and we were ready to start our journey. It was only 6 am, so it was dark outside and there was very little traffic as we made our way through the downtown Chicago streets and onto the highway. The initial hour of our trip was spent in relative silence. Kimberly had dozed off and Scott read a novel.

Sal and I made light conversation about the traffic, passing landmarks and the weather. I thought about broaching the subject of his therapy sessions, but then thought better of it. I was pretty sure that very few people, if any, knew about his struggles. He was so good at hiding his trauma behind that gorgeous dimpled smile. I blushed, embarrassed that I had let my mind wander to his attractive face again...not that the rest of him wasn't attractive.

STOP it! You are literally sitting inches away from him. Do you really want him to notice your face heating up?

"I need some coffee...", Kimberly's drowsy voice called out from the back.