I’m naturally drawn to community and the many definitions that
one simple and complex word represents.
I easily identify with many communities, enjoy reflecting on where my
affiliation in them intersect, sometimes collide, and how this tapestry makes
me who I am. It really is pretty cool to
take the time and soak in the multiple layers of life that naturally swirl
around me and contemplate a deeper understanding. If my usual state of community curiosity is a
stroll on the beach periodically dipping my toes in the water, this week was
body surfing on a perfect summer day and catching every. single. wave.
So, many of my community affiliations intersected this
week. You see, the UNE Rural Health
Immersion packed up a van of 10 students from osteopathic medicine, pharmacy,
social work, and dental medicine drove them 250 miles off campus into Washington
County, a region of the state that is near and dear to me. My heart was beating thinking about them
looking out the window at the vastness of Route 9, hoping they were seeing the
beauty of landscape, the peeks of water, rolling hills, blueberry barrens
scattered with boulders, rundown structures, and not thinking to themselves
“what the heck was I thinking” as they saw markers for territories instead
of towns. Here it was, my professional
life was taking a road trip right into the middle of a very special part of my
personal life. I so wanted them to love
Washington County, felt like I had to protect it, and at the same time I let
that piece of being from “away” creep in and realized this was an
incredible opportunity of immersion for me as well, a new type of journey into
a community I love, this time with my professional hat on. What happened next was magic.
Not every student is a good fit for a rural immersion and
that is why they self-select. It takes
someone curious, open, compassionate, innovative, and willing to listen. Most of all it takes strength of
character. A tall order for anyone in
any situation. They met these expectations and to say I was puffed up with pride
would be an understatement. Each of these students is enrolled in incredibly
rigorous academic programs, and this was their one week of “time off”. They chose to use it to learn more, to
immerse themselves in a transformative experience with their peers from other
professions in a community they knew nothing about. Its true that some of them grew up in rural
communities themselves, but others were more familiar with the likes of Los
Angeles, Miami, and Manhattan, a far cry from Calais, Lubec, and Eastport. Through the long days, many miles on the road,
they remained inquisitive, humorous, and appeared to developed what I hope to
be friendships that will stand the test of time, both with their peers and
faculty. This is what interprofessional
education looks like in real time, why we do it, and why we need to keep doing
it. It is what will make the health care
system better in the future. One student
said to me that it felt like we were on a family vacation! A family of future health professionals.
But here’s where I think the magic really happened, in each
candid and generous conversation in the community. I have been blessed with years of
friendships with my Eastport clan, and feel grounded, loved, and
connected. What this opportunity did
was push me outside of my circle of friends and put a different pair of lenses
in my glasses that let me see this community more deeply. I admired the amount of time afforded the
students which we learned mirrored the time given to patients, and this was not
lost on anyone. In a world where health
care can be an assembly line, to see how rural care providers took the time to listen was inspiring. Part of this is necessity because lack of
resources leaves no other alternative than for social workers, doctors,
dentists, pharmacists and others to fill many roles. It’s compelling to hear that a surgeon,
turned primary care physician, now retired has found himself as lead substance
abuse doctor in the region. Or the nurse
practitioner scheduled for a follow-up with a patient finds herself spending
more time doing a mental health check with the patient then the follow-up. And there is the dental hygienist that
started a program to teach elementary school students how to brush their teeth
because of the lack of fluoride and parental guidance for dental care. The list goes on. This community makes it happen and when you
ask them why its because this is where they live, these are their family,
friends, and community members. They see each other regularly at spaghetti suppers, town meetings, the grocery store. They coach sports, start knitting circles, and they
look out for each other. They understand
each other. They are in it together, in ways
that seem to be lost in other places.
Their skill, education, abilities, and drive could get them jobs
anywhere, but the choose here.
It went further than that when we met with community members
outside of health care. First was our
trip to Raye’s Mustard Mill. Originally
thought of a nice diversion from all the health care talk, but there it was in
front of us again … a history of community.
The rich history of the mill, the family, the pictures on the wall, and
the dialogue that it generated were fun to watch. There is science in the mustard seed after
all. We then moved
onto Quoddy Bay Lobster, a much touted (by me) experience, where we got a glimpse into the
lobstering industry, its challenges and joys, what its like to be a
lobsterman’s wife and raise a family, and how to grow a business. Lobstering is a complicated, political, and
dangerous job and I know I walked away with a new appreciation and admiration
of that business on Sea Street down the path from my Eastport house. One of the highlights was looking at the
faces of students look at the three pound lobster wriggling in front of them.
To be honest, my community organizing heart was most excited
to have connected and worked with my good friends to organize a
panel of community members to meet with students and faculty. I know I am loved,
but truth be told on those nights I got home after long days of being on the
road to get emails from them knowing they were helping made me
want to cry. (Super shout out to Tessa Ftorek and Kevin Raye). The quick and willing replies were only overshadowed by meeting new friends in person (Judy Clendenning). There was also the phone call
to Sara Griffin in the parking lot of Monica’s Chocolates when she told me she
would make time for a Quoddy Bay Lobster tour, cater our lunch, AND be on our community panel that
almost made me fall out of my car. And
there were my phone calls with Chris Gardner where without question he agreed
to take 2 hours out of his busy schedule to meet with students and reserved the
conference room for us. Just to note, he’s the Executive Director of the Port
Authority. I. Can’t. Even. All of this
even before the lively conversation with students that ended our day
in Eastport. And that conversation? It
was lively, candid, honest, and real.
Students and faculty asked questions.
Community asked questions. We all
learned from and with each other.
Biggest take away … you make what you want. Eastport wants to thrive and it will.
It’s not that I don’t feel connected to my community in Southern
Maine. I absolutely do. I LOVE my
job. I love my Southern Maine clan of
friends, my family, the beauty of the area.
I live an absolutely blessed life.
What happened this week is my heart grew a little bit more. I’m more connected to Washington County, and
most of all Eastport. I'm more immersed
in UNE and can’t wait to see these 10 students on campus again and work with
faculty on other projects. What this experience taught me is it is
possible to be more connected no matter where you are. That is what I want. That is what I will make happen.
