I am grateful to Dr. Rebekah Rollston, the inaugural Editor-in-Chief of the Primary Care Review, for building a platform to amplify voices in primary care scholarship, advocacy, and stories. Under Dr. Rollston’s skilled leadership, what started as an online blog in the early days of the COVID-19 pandemic became a robust publication of nearly 200 articles read more than 230,000 times by medical professionals, students, and community members around the world. The

Primary care physicians are uniquely positioned to go beyond the immediate needs of their patients. Everything from writing a prescription to examining the larger, more daunting socioeconomic and environmental factors that affect their patients’ health and well-being falls within their scope of work. “When physicians have a trusting relationship with their patients, there are things that are disclosed between the walls of an exam room that many people would not disclose otherwise,” says

I was born and raised in Mebane—a small town in North Carolina that is now primarily white with a large percentage of Black, Indigenous, and Latinx individuals today. My childhood was spent between my father, Jesse’s, side of the family in the West End Community of Mebane and the Hawfields community of dairy farms where most of my mother, Mary’s, side of the family lived. My father worked on dairy farms after his left arm was cut off in a Mebane sawmill accident, while my mother worked in textile mills that caused carpal tunnel syndrome and mini-strokes. Outhouse ...

He is bedbound, unable to walk, unable to care for himself, unable to advocate for himself, and so confused that he cannot finish a thought, let alone a sentence. He has lost 90 pounds in the past year. He soils the bed multiple times per day. His legs and feet are so swollen and edematous that socks and shoes do not fit on his feet. The expectation is that he yells from his bed/cell if he needs something, has a problem, or even worse, he falls with the hope someone hears him in the hallway. There is no emergency call button or ...

Behind the wall of unemployment, I escape. I have a right to work. I have a Law Degree and a Life Coaching Certificate. How do I begin? How can I work professionally and who will employ me? Even though I see many barriers ahead, I say yes to every training opportunity that is offered to me. I speak up whenever I have the chance. I have completed intercultural dialogue training to become a facilitator in that area. I am also writing again with Fiction at the Friary. There is no barrier there. With speaking and writing, I ...

Jamal was a young, promising athlete whose coordination suddenly deteriorated, at only 12-years-old, with the onset of terrible headaches. Scans revealed a large brain mass, and he was referred to a regional academic medical center for what would be a complicated surgery. Moments before he was to be wheeled into the operating room, a nurse pulled Jamal’s mother, Lisa, aside to tell her apologetically that the procedure was cancelled. The medical center had learned that Jamal’s Tennessee Medicaid plan, TennCare, had been terminated, and he was uninsured. “I’m afraid you’ll need to take him ...

"Não há fronteiras para os que exploram… não deve haver para os que lutam”—there are no borders for those who explore… there should not be for those who fight. This powerful statement was the rallying cry of representatives from dozens of waste picker organizations to the 2nd Latin American Congress. The gathering, held in 2005 in São Leopoldo, Brazil, unified a collection of marginalized peoples into a single voice calling for an end to unjust borders. Physical borders erected around landfills that, for many, were their only source of income. Sociocultural borders ...

Trigger warning: Parts of this piece may be triggering. Please take the time and space to look after yourself and seek help. A few years ago, while I was packing for an upcoming move, I came across my old Pakistani passport. As I opened it, my 16-year-old self looked back at me, with the words “married” and “housewife.” I was a child bride. I am now in my 30s. I broke free from that child marriage a decade ago and built a wonderful new life of freedom for myself and my daughters. ...

I called a third time. her voice sounds like a whisper hanging from a wire or a storyline lost in space. Worry not of death itself but her fragile husband and three kids Despite everything she is eager to talk and between the cough and fatigue Shared details, dates, places she speaks about her experience at the hospital and is ...