The pandemic and protests have laid bare the depths of our nation’s disparities. Your race should not determine whether you live or die. It should not influence whether your doctor listens to you, or whether you can breathe clean air.
But—too often—it does.
In my own family, I’ve seen the results of racism and redlining play out over generations in Los Angeles, limiting where some family members could purchase homes, raise their children and retire.
For years, public health programs have worked hard to make immunization equitable, shielding all children from preventable illnesses. If children fall behind in their vaccination schedule, immunity will begin to wane, and the likelihood of vaccine-preventable outbreaks will increase in the coming months.
If you haven’t heard from your pediatrician yet, call your medical home to ask how and when they plan to resume well visits and vaccinations.
As a pediatrician and a father, I can tell you that children are able to sense fear among caregivers. I encourage parents to have age-appropriate conversations with their children to understand what they’ve heard, answer their questions and provide comfort.
We’re all in this together and solidarity will get us through this pandemic.
Many teen victims do not tell their family or friends about the abuse, in part because they believe violence is “normal” in a relationship. Some fear not being believed or that their abusers will cause more harm to them or their loved ones.
Eleven-year-old Jaime was diagnosed with leukemia and is currently undergoing chemotherapy. He’s a U.S. citizen but his mother is an undocumented immigrant from Mexico. “His mother told me that when they get home after his chemo, Jaime closes all of the curtains and locks the doors,” explained Jacqueline Casillas, my colleague and director of Pediatric Oncology at Miller’s Children’s Hospital in Long Beach. He’s afraid that his mother will be deported because she takes him to the doctor.
The rising cost of higher education makes food a luxury for some college students. Students are often embarrassed that they need food—but they’re not alone. Among Cal State students, 41 percent reported food insecurity in a 2016-17 survey across all 23 campuses.
Parents often don’t take talk of suicide by young children seriously because they think kids don’t understand the concept. But they do.
The Children’s Institute building on Harbor-UCLA’s campus is surrounded by playgrounds. The inside is decorated in lively colors, and it’s neatly cluttered with toys and children. It looks like Crayola designed a home inviting visitors to come play.
Many of the children here have been expelled from regular preschool.
Most of my patients are low-income and many have faced adverse childhood experiences, or ACEs, which can cause lifelong physical and mental health problems. After years of working with low-income families, I’ve come to believe that combating ACEs contributes as much to a child’s academic success as learning the ABCs. That’s why Head Start is one of my weapons in the War on Poverty. It changes lives, one kid at a time.
I visited LA Kitchen, in part as a pediatrician, to learn about a career resource for my older foster-care patients. Transitional age youths are 16 to 24 years old and often age out of the system with a limited ability to support themselves.