It's been awhile... let's do it in style!

At first I thought it'd been over twenty years since my last college course until I remembered I'd taken the Bible overview course at Westminster Seminary in Escondido back in 2005, in preparation for fulltime mission service.  All the same, over 14 years is a pretty long time since attending class, studying, and taking tests for a college course.  It's been especially meaningful, however, as I'm taking this new course (Spanish 3, which is a good fit even though we had tested into higher levels) with my 13 year old son!  Below, our first day of class together, as well as today in the car as we crammed for the midterm. 

Too cool to say it at school?

Last week on Jadon's second day of junior high (in a new district with yet another new start for him, Lord help him), I had the singular joy of reciprocated expression of love: as we parted at the gate I told him I love him, and he was willing to reply with the same, along with the ASL "I love you" handsign.

Contrast that with what happened within days with Evangelina as I brought her to school.  We were walking in from the parking lot and I began to quietly sing my love for her when I was rudely interrupted.  "Shhhh!  Daddy, don't say it so loud!"

"I love you M--"

(In hushed tones...) "--Shhh!  There are people here!"

Then, as Evangelina looks around and noticed that the people passed to a sufficient distance from us, my daughter relents with the command, "OK, now say it."

Sí, soy padre, pero no suyo

With regularity I tell my patients it is an honor to care for them, in part to let them know their value for themselves, but also as a reminder to myself of their value before God... especially when the patient happens to be a "difficult" one, when they bring problems that I feel are beyond my own resources to help them.  I do not like to overstate the spiritual nature of the doctor-patient relationship, but I still am surprised at how much of their lives we are privy to, often even more than their own spouses or parents.  These are amazing God-given opportunities to impact His kingdom in people's lives, whether it be in an overtly spiritual way (eg: praying with them for their needs), or not overtly spiritual at all (eg: carefully listening to and addressing their physical needs).  The other week I was caring for an older Spanish-speaking woman in what I thought was not overtly spiritual at all, and as I finished the visit and got up to leave the room she said, "Gracias Padre" before she quickly corrected herself, "Gracias Doctor." 

It had been a while since a patient mistakenly called me "Pastor" (usually followed by a quick correction "Doctor" in amused embarrassment), but this is the first time I can remember being called "Padre."

Gracias, Dios mio, por este gran recordatorio que mi trabajo me presente las oportunidades para edificar su reino.

Wheels in passing

Today I more formally grieve the loss of my dad's having his own bike.  Even though I'm deeply thankful that he's given it to me (it'll work great for the shorter folk in our family), taking possession of it formally represents what Dad already decided about a year ago: giving up bicycling on the street.  Thankfully there hasn't been any sudden loss of motor function or some terrible accident.  Rather, given the knowledge of his own slowed reflexes and the recent death of a cyclist in his neighborhood (by a very aged driver), he decided it was wise that he stop riding his bike to work, something he actually tried to maintain even after moving from Highland to Loma Linda.  For me, it's a poignant reminder about the different stages of one's life.  My dad was never a super avid cyclist, yet there are a great many memories of his riding to work with his relective pantleg cuffs (which he also gave me), as well as taking Ruthie & me out to different places on bikes.  Gratefully by the time we got to college he upgraded from his super heavy department store Murray (of note, AFTER he had upgraded Ruthie's and mine to bikeshop brand bikes) to the entry-level Cannondale mountainbike without suspension.  As I put it on the bikerack to transport home & later as I wiped it down & put it into our garage, I noted how well he'd taken care of it & how there wasn't a bit of rust to be seen on it.  Thanks, Dad, for instilling in us an appreciation for exercise and helping us understand the usefulness of our bicycles in creating family memories.  I hope to pass that wisdom on to our kids.

Remembering Akong

For all the saints who from their labors rest,

Who Thee by faith before the world confessed,

Thy name, O Jesus, be forever blest.

Alleluia!  Alleluia!

Thou wast their Rock, their Fortress, and their Might;

Thou, Lord, their Captain in the well-fought fight;

Thou, in the darkness drear, their one true Light.

Alleluia!  Alleluia!

[verses 1 & 2 from “For All the Saints” by William W. How (1823-1897)]

It is good to remember those who have gone before us.

Grandfather, known to us primarily as “Akong,” very soon would have been 100 years old had he survived to this day.  Even though I didn’t know him very well, I miss him and wish I could have spent more time with him. 

The experience my sister Ruthie & I had was a common one for immigrant families: our parents had moved themselves thousands of miles away from their country of origin, and due to the high cost of travel, we only rarely had opportunity to see our grandparents in person.   Communication by phone then was also prohibitively expensive, & such technology like video-conferencing or even simple email was either nonexistent or unavailable to us.  Even if we did have today’s technological means for communication, my sister and I faced a serious language barrier; my own Taiwanese & Chinese speaking abilities at that time were basically zero.  The obstacles to building family relationships were so great, I used to lament that if I happened to walk past the grave of a great-grandparent, I probably wouldn’t even know it.

As such, my own first-hand memories of Akong are positive but scarce.  I remember his caring for Grandmother/Ama, his pushing her around in her wheelchair or bringing her things she needed during our few visits across the Pacific.  I remember that he could speak to me in simple English, & that he spoke kindly of me to those we met.  I remember taking trips with him to the morning market & the park nearby, & that he wasn’t afraid to take shots at the basketball hoop with the younger crowd in Kaohsiung.  I remember the seriousness with which he took the loss of his wife of 50 years.  I remember how he looked physically disturbed when there was strife within the family.  Selfishly, I remember that he would give me red envelopes when we visited.  Gratefully, I remember that even after his passing, he left money that would help pay for my medical education.

Remembering one’s ancestors has been on my mind lately, not only because of the upcoming memorial service for Akong, but also surprisingly because of a movie I recently saw with my 11 year old son Jadon: “Coco,” about a Mexican boy who tries to pursue his dream of a musical career while dealing with a complicated family history going back several generations.  I really enjoyed the movie for its heartwarming storyline, & was even moved to tears at its depiction of the strong desire for family to love one another and to be remembered in love.

The movie centers on the Mexican custom of “The Day of the Dead” (Día de los muertos), a folk adaptation to the church tradition of All Saints’ Day.  During this time, elaborate altars (ofrendas) are constructed to commemorate relatives who have passed away, & these are adorned with candles, flowers, and photographs, along with the dead relatives’ favorite food or drink.  The belief is that these altars & practices are important in the journeys and even existence of the relatives in the afterlife.  I didn’t want to be a killjoy after such a delightful movie, but as we left the theater I told Jadon that I had no illusions of being remembered by my own great-grandkids or afterward, but that I would like him & his sister Evangelina & perhaps their kids (my grandkids, in case I get any!) to remember me both for the good I’ve done (for them to follow), and for the evil I’ve done (for them to avoid and be warned by).  I assured him that he didn’t need to worry if I’m forgotten, because our eternal Maker will always remember His children.  I also let Jadon know that he didn’t need to try to help me along in my spiritual journey after I’ve died, because Jesus already accomplished everything I need through His death & resurrection.

It was no surprise to learn that “Coco” was a box office hit in Mexico, but it was a surprise to me that it fared amazingly well not only in the United States but also in China of all places!  As I thought it through, it made sense, with all the parallels between the Mexican custom of The Day of the Dead and traditional Taoist/Buddhist/Confucian ancestor worship.  Hadn’t I seen countless altars in Taiwanese homes dedicated to the worship of a past relative, complete with incense, photos, as well as offerings of food & drink?  As I looked into the practice more deeply, it turns out that ancestor veneration is quite widely practiced: besides the folk-Catholic customs of Mexico and the Taoist/Buddhist/Confucian customs of Taiwan, many native religions spanning from Africa to the Americas to the Shintoism of Japan also practice ancestor worship/veneration.  To be remembered and cared for even after death turns out to be a surprisingly strong and shared human longing. 

Of course, as Christians we worship our Creator alone, and we reject the need to worship anyone else.  As Christians we entrust the care of those who have died to the capable and loving hands of that same Creator alone, and we reject any fear that they will be harmed if we forget them.  As Christians we entrust the care of our own lives to our wise and powerful God alone, and we reject any fear of reprisals if we mistreat or forget our ancestors. 

All the same, as we worship and trust our Creator alone, we can give thanks to Him as we remember loved ones such as Akong (Philippians 1:3).  In fact, in a strange way it is precisely because of God’s faithfulness working through Akong that I can give thanks for both of them: in spite of the fact that I have few firsthand memories of Akong, by all accounts I know that he accepted God’s offer of grace in Jesus Christ, and tried his best to pass along that grace to the generations that followed him.  In a land where there are meagerly few Christ-followers at all (generous statistics for Taiwan put the figure at 4.5% Christian, split evenly between Protestants and Catholics), passing along this torch was no easy task, yet each of our families as descendants of Akong (& Ama) continue to seek to walk with God in spite of our very real brokenness. 

Akong, poverty stricken as a child, raised his own family to know their spiritual poverty without God.  Akong, an evangelist early in his marriage in a remote mountain church, shared the riches of the Gospel with his own family.  Akong, a schoolteacher and guidance director, taught & directed his own family in God’s ways.  Akong, a community and church servant-leader, served and led his own family to serve and worship God.

Of course I realize that with memorial services (as with funerals), people tend to remember only positive things about one’s life.  I do not doubt that Akong had his own faults and weaknesses, perhaps even glaring ones, as we all do.  I wouldn’t be devastated if there one day were some revelation of some horrible part of his life or character.  He was human, & a sinner at that.  Yet in the area of life which mattered most for eternity, he trusted God’s goodness and passed it along to his kin.  And because of God’s goodness working through Akong, I’ll have plenty of time to get to know him better than I could ever imagine.

O blest communion, fellowship divine!

We feebly struggle, they in glory shine;

Yet all are one in Thee, for all are Thine.

Alleluia!  Alleluia!

And when the strife is fierce, the warfare long,

Steals on the ear the distant triumph song,

And hearts are brave again, and arms are strong.

Alleluia!  Alleluia!             

 [verses 3 & 4 from “For All the Saints” by William W. How (1823-1897)]

                                                     

-- By S. Stephen Chiayee Wu, December 27, 2017

Open letter to former patients at LLU clinic in Highland, California

Dear Former Patients of Loma Linda University:

It's hard to believe that it's now been 2 years since my departure from the office in my hometown of Highland.  I think of you often & have been wanting to write for quite awhile.  I'm grateful to remain in close contact with the Highland clinic staff.  My prayers are that you too are doing well in all regards, along with your loved ones.  I imagine many of you little ones have sprouted up or perhaps have matured in such a way that I would no longer recognize you even if I walked right by you on the street.  For you adults, I imagine you are trucking along in life, providing for your families, & learning a lot of life's lessons along the way.  For those of you with more complicated medical frailties, I pray that you have been well established with your new providers & are receiving the care you need.

I want you to know that I continue to count it a great blessing to have been able not just to serve you, but also to be served by you as well during my eleven and a half years in Highland.  Being able to serve you helped me immensely in so many ways, ways that I continue to cherish now:
- you patiently helped me grow in "real-world" clinical experience immediately after I finished formal residency training. I often see you in my mind’s eye when I come across similar clinical situations nowadays.
- you cheered me on and made it fun to come to work,
- you opened your lives to me & helped me to understand health and life to be the deep and multi-faceted whole that it is, especially as you came from such varied backgrounds (students, construction workers, health professionals, heroic homemakers, retail salespeople, heating/air conditioning repairmen, athletes, clergy), were of various ages ranging in age from premature infants to nonagenarians, & were of varied cultures and backgrounds. In a very real way I felt like I could understand more about life because you shared the stories of your lives with me.
- you helped me with my foundations of learning to speak in Spanish (Muchos de ustedes me ayudaron con mi fundación de aprendizaje para hablar español.  Sorprendentemente, ahora en mi nuevo trabajo, más o menos dos tercios de mis pacientes solamente hablan español.  Ustedes estarán muy felices para saber que estoy aprendiendo más cada día.  ¡Muchisimas gracias!)

It has often been a wonderful surprise to bump into some of you either on the street in the Inland Empire, online, or even in Orange County.  I was quite dismayed to hear from quite a few of you that you never received the letter we sent out a few months before I left (you can find it attached).  I am so very sorry for having missed you somehow, especially as I felt I inadvertently left many of you in the lurch of having to find another medical home.  While I knew I could leave you pediatric patients in the very capable hands of my colleagues Dr. Hensley & Dr. Antonio, I thought LLU had some new internists who could soon replace me in Highland to take over care of you adult patients.  (I am pleased to inform you that I am told that a very kind and capable Internal Medicine/Pediatrics attending physician by the name of Dr. Lorraine Reverson has been serving at Highland for the last several months, same phone number 909-425-3939.)

I actually seriously considered continuing to work in Highland & commuting from Orange County, but finally decided against it in order to be closer to the family in case of emergency/disaster.  The transition to AltaMed was difficult even though I was graciously received by colleagues and staff, as I felt it took over a year before I finally felt I “got into the groove” of daily workflows.  I’m treating a lot medically indigent people, many of whom deal with such urban conditions as drug addiction, anxiety/depression, and homelessness, & many who do not speak English at all.  Workdays are busy of course, but the 30-45 minute commute each way was tough getting used to!  All in all, I’m grateful to get to know & serve my new patients & have been delighted to note that as with many of you, I’m able to care for multiple generations within families (grandparents to babies).

Family life also has been a challenge as our move was “as fast as molasses” since it took over 4 months after finding a home to make the necessary repairs to live in it, & we have yet to finish unpacking all of our boxes!  The kids are doing fine in their new schools and are quite active in sports, church, and music. Grateful as we are, we still miss quite a few things about life in the IE: friendships, community activities, less traffic, & an overall more sane pace of life.

Anyway, I do hope somehow that this letter will get to the eyes of as many old patients as possible, as I do want you to know that I miss you and pray that you & your families are well & whole in all regards – body, soul, & spirit! I’d love to hear how you are doing!

Blessings,
Dr. Sidney Wu
(December 1, 2017)

Letter of departure to patients of LLU clinic in Highland, California

September 26, 2015

Dearest LLU Patients:

I thought it would be best to write you a letter to let you know about a decision my family & I recently made. I write this letter with great difficulty because I’m not sure where to begin or how best to write what I have to say…

After a few years’ discussion & for multiple family reasons, our family will be moving away to the Santa Ana area in the next months. While originally our plan was that I’d commute to our Highland clinic from Orange County, in the end we decided the commute would be too much of a strain on the family, & I accepted a job offer with a non-profit clinic closer by. Accordingly, my last day in our Highland LLU clinic will be Tuesday December 1, 2015.

One reason I wanted to write you was to let you know how much I have appreciated you. For those who were at Highland when I joined faculty in 2004, you may recall that my time with LLU was originally planned to be a short 2 years as I prepared to serve fulltime at a hospital in Niger (west Africa). Painful personal issues, & then important family concerns altered that course dramatically, but little did I realize that in lieu of a life of adventure overseas, I would be given 11 ½ years of adventure serving you here in my own hometown of Highland/San Bernardino.

I want you to know that I have considered it a great honor to serve your families (in many cases 3 generations at once!), to watch you enter different stages of life, to learn so much about life from you (eg: phrases in your native tongues), and to share your sorrows & your joys as we worked through many difficult medical conditions together. I have considered my role in your lives to be a sacred calling, & I pray that God used me to touch your families with a kind of wholeness that includes physical health, to be sure, but extends far beyond.

Another reason I wanted to write was to assist in the whole transition process. In case you need to tie up any medical issues with me, please be sure to go forward quickly with the studies & referrals we have recommended, and set your follow-up appointments with me as soon as possible so that we can formulate a clear care plan before I leave December 1.
For my pediatric patients, please know that I leave you in the very caring & capable hands of my pediatric colleagues already well established here at Highland. For my adult patients, you may recall that we Med-Peds (combined internal medicine & pediatrics) doctors are a rather rare breed here in the West, so our transition plan is still in flux. Please see the attached letter for information from our department regarding this transition. Your patience with us in this whole process is greatly appreciated, & you may check in with Highland’s front desk staff for any updates.

Again, thank you for the honor of serving as your physician during this very meaningful season of my life. I pray for your continued growth & health, & I’d very much appreciate your prayer as well during our transition as we care of present family needs as well as plan for the future (overseas service is still our hope). In a very real way, I will miss you.

Blessings Until We Meet Again,
Sidney Wu, MD, FAAP, FACP