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    • Curtis Prout, MD, Morale Doctor
    • Dr. Ortega and the Fajita Man | Richard B. Weinberg
    • Flo Owned a Beauty Shop... | Jose Bufill
    • The Healing Book | Dustin Grinnell Spring 2020
    • Mangoes | Rachel Prince
    • NOISE | Aparna Ragupathi
    • Not Today, Not Tonight | Donald Kollisch
    • Old Scrubs | Bruce Campbell
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The Beauty in Breaking by Michele Harper

July 24, 2021 Intima: A Journal of Narrative Medicine
The Beauty in Breaking by Michele Harper

The Beauty in Breaking by Michele Harper

In the powerful memoir The Beauty in Breaking (Riverhead Books 2020), Michele Harper challenges us to examine the transformation of trauma and how painful experiences figure prominently in one’s past and present. In honest and contemplative language, Harper, a doctor and graduate of Harvard University and the Renaissance School of Medicine at Stony Brook University, courageously describes a challenging childhood that exposed her and other family members to ongoing outbursts of physical abuse. Dr. Harper gives insight into how this adversity informed her decision to pursue a career as an emergency room (ER) physician, one that now spans more than a decade working at various locations in Philadelphia and the South Bronx:

“Unlike in the war zone that was childhood, I would be in control of that space, providing relief or at least a reprieve to those who called out for help. I would see to it that there was shelter in the spaces of which I was the guardian.” (19)

Michele Harper has worked as an emergency room physician for more than a decade at various institutions, including as chief resident at Lincoln Hospital in the South Bronx and in the emergency department at the Veterans Affairs Medical Center in Philadelphia. She is a graduate of Harvard University and the Renaissance School of Medicine at Stony Brook University. The Beauty in Breaking is her first book.

Michele Harper has worked as an emergency room physician for more than a decade at various institutions, including as chief resident at Lincoln Hospital in the South Bronx and in the emergency department at the Veterans Affairs Medical Center in Philadelphia. She is a graduate of Harvard University and the Renaissance School of Medicine at Stony Brook University. The Beauty in Breaking is her first book.

In navigating this career of service, she regularly draws upon her resiliency to confront violence when caring for gunshot victims, responding to code blues, or de-escalating threatening patient behavior. Simultaneously, Dr. Harper impresses upon readers the extraordinary privileges of being a healer, as well as the difficulties of stewarding the distressing stories accompanying that role.

As Dr. Harper continues to meditate on her life’s milestones, including divorce, residency graduation and new leadership roles in the clinical world, she paints a sobering reality of her patients’ lives. In often invisible ways, society inflicts lasting and generational trauma that tends to be outside of individual control, especially for historically underserved populations. From the perspective of an African-American female physician, the author shares her reflections on heartbreaking interactions with young patients, like Gabriel and Jeremiah, both of whom she treats for head trauma:

“I suppose it’s a matter of faith whether or not we choose our starting ground before we’re born into this life. Some begin the journey on flat, grassy meadows and others at the base of a very steep mountain. One path, seemingly smooth, can make it nearly impossible for us to see the ditches and gullies along the way. The other, while painfully tough, can deliver what it promises: If you can navigate that path, you’ve developed the skills to scale Everest. It isn’t fair on many accounts; it simply is…All deserve the chance to speak and be heard and be touched. If we’re lucky, we’re touched at every station along the journey, and if nothing else, then at the end.” (137-138)

These carefully curated thoughts about her patient encounters challenge readers to critically think about the culture of blame and stigma towards those facing complex circumstances, an idea expressed succinctly by an ER social worker in the book: “When [people are] at war, the rules are different.” Dr. Harper highlights the continued ripple effects of systematic racial bias and other forms of discrimination in healthcare and beyond.

Still, the path to healing is complex. Dr. Harper herself claims no simple solution, knowing she has to navigate her own fraught path forward too. While contemplating reconciliation with her estranged father, she draws us in as readers interested in clinical encounters and how they may have an impact in our lives; she helps us understand the many complex ways patients offer invaluable wisdom too, if only providers choose to listen. In one interaction with a patient who is a veteran, Dr. Harper skillfully demonstrates how both she and the patient find liberation in acknowledging shared loss.

As an epidemiologist by training, I am reminded that there is always a human story behind the numbers. Narratives like Dr. Harper’s often transcend the limitations of quantitative metrics, such as incidence or rates, by offering a compassionate and instructive glimpse into the lives of those who are suffering. These stories raise important ethical questions about how we, as a medical and research community, should respond. In my professional and personal life, I hope to amplify these stories of oppression so they may be perceived at the same level of legitimacy as other forms of communication in order to spur organizational change.

The Beauty in Breaking is aptly titled, as the author/physician beautifully shows there is indeed beauty in the examination of the trauma one has experienced and struggled to overcome. Her storytelling brims with hope while contributing to a broader conversation about diversity and meaningful inclusion in medical training and beyond.—Brianna Cheng


Brianna Cheng has a MSc Epidemiology from McGill University, and completed a Narrative Medicine Fellowship at Concordia University. She now works as a consultant epidemiologist for the WHO. Her writing has appeared in Intima, Journal of General Internal Medicine, CMAJ Blogs and Families, Systems & Health. She currently serves as an Editor for the McGill Journal of Medicine. @withbrianna

In Book Reviews, Co-Constructing Narrative, Creative non-fiction, Essays, Health, Hospitals, Memoir, Narrative Medicine Tags emergency room, ER, structural racism, child abuse, memor

You Will Never Be Normal by Catherine Klatzker

June 22, 2021 Intima: A Journal of Narrative Medicine
You Will Never Be Normal Cover.jpg

An instruction manual on falling apart to come together again, Catherine Klatzker’s frank memoir, You Will Never Be Normal, confronts the darkness with the enlightenment of telling. Klatzker, a retired pediatric ICU nurse of 22 years, weaves together a lifetime of repressed trauma and abuse with the laser-sharp humanity of an attentive RN.  The story—and the author’s often wrenching rendering of it in flashback vignettes—is not the typical clinician-as-patient narrative but one that engages the reader to join her as she makes her way towards healing. 

The embodied experience of an adult survivor of sexual and emotional abuse is one of shame, panic and confusion, and Klatzker tells it all with grace, sparing little in her exploration of the physiological manifestations of her own trauma such as insomnia and incontinence. We feel her suffering but also her professional detachment: It’s as if she’s conducting a thorough patient history of her own past. 

Catherine Klatzker is a memoirist, poet, wife, mother, grandmother, friend, meditator, a retired pediatric ICU RN of 22 years, and a member of the Authors Guild. Her work has appeared in Atticus Review, Intima: A Journal of Narrative Medicine, Emrys…

Catherine Klatzker is a memoirist, poet, wife, mother, grandmother, friend, meditator, a retired pediatric ICU RN of 22 years, and a member of the Authors Guild. Her work has appeared in Atticus Review, Intima: A Journal of Narrative Medicine, Emrys Journal, Lime Hawk Journal, The Examined Life Journal, Tiferet Journal and in mental health anthologies. Originally from the quad cities of Illinois, she now lives in southern California with her husband, delightedly nearby their children and grandchildren. Photo by Baz Here

Readers become familiar with the embodiment of her triggers as she welcomes us into the wounds of her intimate relationships. Klatzker’s family becomes our family, her partners our partners—and her demons become ours. “No one knew the extra layer of experience I brought to my own pain, to my own body, filtering my experience of myself,” she tells us. To cope, Klatzker mastered the art of dissociating into “parts,” or what she describes as “going away,” sometimes happening while she was at work in the hospital or at home caring for her child.

Learning about the causes and triggers of Klatzker’s Parts (or what is later labeled Traumatic Dissociative Identity Disorder) is a heartbreaking revelation throughout the memoir. “What I knew was gut-knowledge, stored in my body,” Klatzker states, and that knowledge unfolds in devastating and plain language, a subconscious realization oftentimes unfolding mid-sentence. Her Parts often take hostage of her mind at random moments, coming into play when she’s driving or during emotional interludes with her husband. Fragmented memories emerge in  the many versions of herself she meets and refines over the years. 

In unpacking precarious relationships, deaths, and more, Klatzker’s relationship with her psychotherapist is one that models seeing her as a whole person and not just the sum of her parts. “He spoke in language all my parts would understand, trying to get the same message across to all of us, so there would be no gaps.” The deep work they do together inspires readers to reflect on the way healing from trauma is rarely linear and never truly ends. Yet there is a sense of resolution to Klatzker’s bleak house of pain: In telling her story, she confronts her past and envisions the way to move forward. In the end, the book’s title takes on new meaning: You Will Never Be Normal is not a life sentence but instead an acknowledgement of difference and an acceptance of it.— Angelica Recierdo


Angelica Recierdo works as a Clinical Content Editor at Doximity in San Francisco, CA. She received her Bachelor of Science in Nursing from Northeastern University and her M.S. in Narrative Medicine from Columbia University. Angelica was also a Global Health Corps Fellow in 2016-17. She has worked at the intersection of health and writing/communications, specifically in the fields of healthcare innovation, health equity, and racial justice. Angelica is a creative writer, and her work can be found in Intima: A Journal of Narrative Medicine, Literary Orphans, HalfwayDownTheStairs and The Huntington News, among others. Her essay “Coming Out of the Medical Closet” appeared in the Spring 2014 Intima.

In Co-Constructing Narrative, Memoir, Narrative Medicine, Scars Tags sexual abuse, child abuse

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