Health and Healing

As I waited alone on the platform for the approaching train, tears welled up, compounded by years of solitude; the darkness and loss of my inner identity had invisibly built up over time. It was a hot summer day, and I held in my hand a homemade sign. In large block letters it said, “SEEKING HUMAN KINDNESS.”

Read the rest of my new narrative article, here.

Published by Philip A. Lederer MD

Thanks for visiting my website! I was born in 1980 in Columbus, Ohio and live with my family in Jamaica Plain, Massachusetts. My training is in internal medicine, public health, and infectious diseases. I am an advocate, writer, and musician, and recently I completed my first marathon.

One thought on “Health and Healing

  1. 6 January 2021 Boston, Massachusetts

    Dear Phil:

    Thank you for posting/publishing/sharing this work. Your courage and strength give me hope. I am so sorry for your struggles, as I am for many others, including my 21-year-old daughter.

    Please know that I am routing for you and have experienced grace and love in your presence.

    Best,

    Gregory

    Gregory Melchor-Barz, Ph.D. Director and Professor Boston University College of Fine Arts School of Music

    Mailing Address School of Music / College of Fine Arts Boston University 855 Commonwealth Avenue Boston, MA 02215 USA telephone: 617-353-8789; email: barz@bu.edu

    Follow the BU School of Music: Facebook: @BU.SchoolofMusic | Instagram: @bu_music | Twitter: @BU_SOM

    Queering the Field: Sounding Out Ethnomusicology—Oxford University Press The Culture of AIDS in Africa—Oxford University Press Singing for Life—Routledge Singing for Life—Smithsonian Folkways Shadows in the Field—Oxford University Press Music in East Africa—Oxford University Press Performing Religion—Editions Rodopi

    Pronouns: he, him, his

    From: Health and Healing Date: Tuesday, January 5, 2021 at 7:51 PM To: Melchor-Barz, Gregory Subject: [New post] Health and Healing Philip Lederer MD posted: ” As I waited alone on the platform for the approaching train, tears welled up, compounded by years of solitude; the darkness and loss of my inner identity had invisibly built up over time. It was a hot summer day, and I held in my hand a homemade sign. In”

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