Archive
Author: Alasdair Renwick-Hale
-
Knowing Your Limits Is Part of Caring
I remember sitting in a cramped, fluorescent-lit corridor of the oncology ward, the smell of stale coffee and antiseptic clinging to my sweater, listening…
-
Factory Laws Came From Unlikely Alliances
I have always found it rather tiresome how history books tend to present social reform in the nineteenth century as a tidy, inevitable march…
-
Support Is Not a Substitute for Treatment
I remember sitting in a sterile hospital corridor at three in the morning, the air smelling of industrial floor wax and stale coffee, listening…
-
Distance Does Not Reduce Harm
I remember sitting in a dim hospice room in the late nineties, listening to a man try to find the words to say goodbye…
-
One Honest Friend Is Worth More Than Ten Encouraging Ones
I remember sitting in a cramped hospital consultation room, the air smelling of stale antiseptic and floor wax, listening to a man weep because…
-
A Cross Reference Is a Suggestion, Not a Proof
I remember sitting in the hospital chapel late one Tuesday, the air thick with the scent of floor wax and old hymnals, trying to…
-
A Long Campaign With Mixed Motives
I remember sitting in a cramped, dimly lit community hall years ago, watching a young organizer pace the floor with a fervor that was…
-
Consent Buried in Terms Is Not Consent
I remember sitting in a dim hospital corridor years ago, listening to a man describe the terrifying sensation of being watched by something he…
-
When Something Is Said Three Times, Notice
I remember sitting in a cramped, dimly lit hospice room during my final year of chaplaincy, listening to the rhythmic, mechanical hiss of a…
-
Show Up Again in Month Three
I remember sitting in a sterile, fluorescent-lit room in the oncology ward, watching a well-meaning relative lean over a grieving widow and offer that…