Humility Can Save Lives: A Patient’s Perspective

Describing Theresa Fortune is not a simple matter. She is a visual artist whose verbal eloquence also makes her a poet. She is a maternal health advocate, but also a champion for better mental health support for healthcare practitioners. She is a producer, writer, and community activist.

At the 2024 Institute for Healthcare Improvement (IHI) Forum, Ms. Fortune will screen “From the Ashes,” a documentary short that chronicles her experience with postpartum depression, and participate in a post-screening Q&A session. Here are some highlights of a discussion we had in anticipation of the IHI Forum:

Jo Ann Endo (JE): How are you? What are you thinking about after the recent US presidential election?

Theresa Fortune (TF): I definitely feel physical fatigue because I’m emotionally drained. But I’m not going to lose my optimism. This isn’t about finding the perfect policy or the perfect president. This is a people problem. It requires us to lean back into humanity and rely on a solid code of ethics in how we define care within our healthcare system. We need to address the system itself, and I hope politicians will back that up. In the meantime, we can [improve care] right now.

JE: Absolutely. I’m hopeful that we can get away from thinking we can only address big problems every four years.

TF: Exactly.

JE: You’ve been very busy lately with screenings of your film. What has it been like to share your story with others and hear theirs?

TF: Before I’m able to address anyone else, I have to know how to address myself. My life depended on a decision to do the inner work necessary for me to have a wholesome experience as a human being, as a mother, as a Black woman. My journey felt inspiring to me. I like to step outside of myself and see my experiences from a third-person perspective. When I do that, I feel inspired. If I can inspire myself, why not share that blueprint?

My focus is on students and systems. I’m not formally trained as an educator, but I have a blueprint that worked for me, and I hope to offer that to other people. I want to encourage them to lean into cultural humility, not just in academia, but personally. Our students are people. Our practitioners are people. It’s our responsibility to hold each other accountable and scale out these solutions to create a better system and redefine what care looks like.

JE: You’re motivated to advocate for both patients and care providers. I remember you saying care providers need to be okay so patients can be okay. Can you elaborate on that?

TF: It’s important for practitioners to remember that they are people, but it’s even more important for the system to treat them like people and not just robots assigned to heal our bodies. Do they feel okay at home? Did they take a lunch break? Did they get a chance to go outside for fresh air? They need to be in a position to feel and connect with their patient, not just push a prescription. Practitioners are people, and the system is failing all of us. My job is to have all of us challenge that system.

If I can feel my practitioner’s fatigue and feel how rushed my appointment is, I’m not going to feel like we’re having a wholesome exchange. As a patient, there’s no psychological safety for me to truly share how I'm doing.

JE: You’ve said there can be no healthcare competency without humility. What difference does it make when a practitioner is humble?

TF: You can’t always measure love or humility, but you can measure outcome. When you allow yourself to be eye-level with everyone you engage with — not based on intellect or training, but on the fact that we’re all human — you create a partnership. Humility bridges the practitioner to the patient for a mutually beneficial outcome.

As a mother, I wasn’t able to breastfeed because I didn’t have enough running water or food. Had there been a practitioner with the humility to consider my feelings, I might have been referred to resources that could have helped me. Humility opens up your capacity to care. It provides a universal language of the heart and creates psychological safety for patients to be honest about how they are doing. That safety is important because it can save lives.

JE: I don’t want to oversimplify your journey, but I think we can all learn from your openness about your struggles and your determination. You’ve said, “I found my wings on the ledge” about your experience of growth after facing postpartum depression. Can you say more about that?

TF: Thank you for bringing that up. I’m a very spiritual person. I didn’t find God or myself until I questioned everything. Jumping off the ledge meant letting go of the identity that felt safe because of what I was told to believe. Curiosity became the first feather on my wing. Once I allowed myself to feel the depths of my pain and my emotions, I recognized that I’m not separate from them, but I don’t have to be consumed by them.

If I jump and find the courage to grow wings, I’m willing to take that flight. Either way, I’m not going to stand still and experience death while alive. I would rather plunge forward and discover who I am along the way.

JE: Stagnation can be a form of death. There are possibilities out there that maybe we haven’t been considering, especially when it comes to working with one another and building community. We can’t wait for a lone hero. We are the heroes we’ve been waiting for.

TF: To be a hero is to be human. It doesn’t require a cape or a [white] coat. It just requires humility and humanity. It’s a magnificent experience to simply be here. To think that you need more than who you currently are, or that you’re not worthy enough to show up as you are, is a disservice to your existence. I am enough.

Now I measure success by my ability to breathe, to experience life. I breathe on purpose, and that purpose has led me to national stages. I am grateful.

Note: This interview was edited for length and clarity.

Photo by Greg Rakozy | Unsplash