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You know those patient portals where you can check your test results, make your next appointment or ask your doctor a non-urgent medical question? Well, what if I told you that many of those interactions come with a price tag? And, according to JAMA, a peer-reviewed medical journal, the trend among health systems to charge […]

What if I told you that you could be a runner in the body you’re in right now, without losing weight or having to time-travel back to a younger you? I know what you’re thinking: how could I run when I can’t get up off the couch? The Slow AF Run Club, founded by the

“Tell me what’s happening, sweetie,” the pediatric rheumatologist instructed my 10-year-old daughter Isa. Her pen was in hand, ready to take notes. “My fingers swelled up after I hit my head and got a concussion. It hurts to open and close my hand,” she replied, nervous, sandwiched in between the doctor and me. “She’s been—”

“I want to go back to school,” I said to my husband. He gave me a side glance. I wasn’t sure if he was thinking, Really? You already have a law degree. Or, You think that’s a good idea after spending the last six years learning how to read, write, and walk again? I understood his concern. I

As a Latina woman married to a Black man, I knew this day would come, that our daughter would be racially profiled. I just never would have suspected it would happen in the gift shop of one of the biggest museums of all places.

When people ask me about mi familia, many emotions pop up, but the images that come to mind are always full of colors and jewelry from Colombia. We were very cultural regarding food, music, and attire. I started looking enviously at my mami and abuela’s shiny, beautiful gold jewelry at a very young age. Right

“Education is the only way out of poverty” was the mantra my Latinx family instilled in me as a young child. My abuela had no formal schooling. My Colombian Mami attended convent, and my Puerto Rican Papi entered the military as a teenager. It was up to me to break this generational cycle and lift

It was a late summer day when I made the not-so-brilliant decision to eat the last piece of Jamaican jerk chicken from a food cart for lunch. It looked and even tasted delicious, but not surprisingly, I got food poisoning. Bad food poising. Life-changing food poisoning. Within hours, I was admitted to a Manhattan hospital for severe

I felt my heart stop when I saw the news alert come across my phone: Donald Trump says he’s been taking hydroxychloroquine, supposedly to prevent himself from coming down with serious COVID-19 symptoms in the event he’s exposed to the coronavirus. He’s disregarding the warnings by his own FDA that the drug could have serious