The drive to the reservation took me through busy highways and shopping centers, then slowed down on winding roads through rising hills and rocky scenes. Just an hour-long drive from the University of California San Diego campus took me to a drastically different landscape, both geographically and culturally. The Tribal Ambulatory Healthcare Experience, an elective created by our Association of Native American Medical Students, provided a formative experience for me as a Chickasaw medical student. Everyone was so kind and welcoming as I found my way to my preceptor’s office at the Indian Health Center. This is not always the experience of a medical student navigating a new clinic. My preceptor, who grew up on a nearby reservation, went out of his way to introduce me and even emailed my picture with a short biography to the staff. It seemed like everyone was family and they made me feel right at home. It was clear that the staff had great relationships with each other and their patients. When discussing the day ahead, they knew the patients’ stories and families. When patients called or came into the office, they were greeted as relatives. I began to notice a stark difference in the treatment of patients as family, rather than strangers or customers. We first saw an adolescent girl with an inflamed inguinal lymph node and ordered tests to check for sexually transmitted infections. When we disclosed that she was positive for chlamydia and that we would prescribe antibiotics, I noticed how comfortable she seemed discussing a sensitive issue—evidently due to the long-standing relationship she had with my preceptor. After taking time to answer her questions, she inquired about my medical training and mentioned her own interest in becoming a lab technician. My preceptor suggested she consider a local medical assistant program, which she was visibly excited to hear about. Throughout the day, I observed how youths and adults alike were comfortable opening up to my preceptor. Whether discussing career advice or recommending nearby hiking trails for exercise, each patient was met with care attentive to their Native identity and where they lived. I even learned there was a sweat lodge in the back of the clinic to foster holistic and communal healing. Receiving care within this relational context fostered trust in the clinic staff, many of whom were community members. Trust in a government structure like the Indian Health Service (IHS) is rightfully hard to build, but placing relationships at the center of care allowed my preceptor to do so. This is not the typical approach that has been modeled to me in medical school. I am often taught to empathize with patients, but to stay removed; to acknowledge culture, but keep it disintegrated from Western medicine. Yet, it was easy to see how relationship-centric care was making an impact on this community. This approach to care is an ideal way to promote health equity on a broad scale. Within a space of trust, we might be better able to promote open communication to guide care, health literacy for patients, adherence to treatment regiments, and continuity of care. On my drive back through those same serpentine roads, I thought of our patients that day. I thought of their comparison to reductive statistics in literature: sexually transmitted diseases, diet and exercise counseling, painful peripheral neuropathy from chronic alcohol consumption. Each visit personified how structural determinants of health drive inequity in Native communities. These are not problems unique to Indigenous peoples but a fault of our systems. They are the result of inadequate federal resources allocated to Indigenous health; food deserts and abused ecosystems; and the trauma of genocide, dispossession, and assimilation still carried in Indigenous bodies and minds. In the face of all these issues, how can I advocate for a healthier future for tribal nations? My preceptor showed me how relationship-centric care fosters medical trust and builds community. Within this space, I saw the potential to impactfully care for individuals and families. This requires longitudinal commitment to a place and people. It specifically requires training a workforce made up of community members. IHS facilities nationwide are understaffed and experience significant turnover. We must encourage Native youth to consider careers in health care, just as my preceptor and I did in conversation at clinic. And then, I think about how I will bring Indigenous values into Western medicine; how I can relate to the whole person in front of me, rather than tending toward efficiency and detachment; how I will see where our systems may have positioned them and take time to build trust; how I will see my patient’s health as tied to their culture, land, and community. Indigenizing medicine certainly has the potential to promote health equity, but also enables us to see and partake in the interconnected human experience.
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