There are trips you remember because you took them. And there are trips that change your life because you never did.
In early 2020, I had a plan. I was finishing law school, and one state — Vermont — allowed students to sit for the bar exam before graduation. My friend Jessie and I were going to take the exam together. Then we were going to celebrate: New York City. Broadway. And, most importantly, I was finally going to spend time with my uncle. I hadn’t seen him in a while.
Instead, I ended up in a hospital bed with double pneumonia. This was before COVID testing was widely available. I remember being shocked by how sick I was.
I also remember something else. While I was lying in that hospital bed worrying about whether I’d even finish law school, my uncle called to check on me. Not the other way around. Toward the end of the conversation, he said something that seemed strangely intense.
“Fight for the things you believe in.”
I laughed. He didn’t. “No. I’m serious. Some things are worth fighting for.”
A few weeks later, he was hospitalized with COVID. The trip never happened. I never saw him again.
For six years, I thought that was simply one more heartbreaking story from the earliest days of the pandemic. Then, after reading more than 3,000 pages of his medical records, I realized it was also the story that changed how I think about medical advocacy.
Not because I discovered one dramatic moment. Because I discovered something quieter.
When families weren’t allowed through the hospital doors, they also couldn’t ask the questions that families naturally ask. “Has something changed?” “What are you watching most closely?” “Help me understand why.”
The chart reminded me that medicine is never just about diagnoses and treatments. It’s also about communication. Observation. Handoffs. And the people who know the patient well enough to notice when something doesn’t fit.
I can’t change what happened in 2020. But I can honor my uncle’s last advice to me. Fight for the things you believe in.
Today, one of those things is helping patients and families understand that advocacy isn’t about challenging every decision. Sometimes it’s simply about making sure someone is still asking questions when the patient no longer can.