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The day I sat in my psychiatrist’s windowless office and was told I had bipolar disorder, I’d already been in the mental health system for 25 years. It was my sixth diagnosis. Starting at age 12, I’d also been told I had anorexia, generalized anxiety disorder, major depressive disorder, obsessive-compulsive disorder and attention deficit disorder. (Sarah Fay, 6/14)

When our son was fighting for his life, my husband and I were ready to give him anything he needed to get healthy.  But what he needed was a blood transfusion, and we couldn't be the ones to give it to him. It wasn’t because we didn’t have the right blood type, but because of the type of people we are: gay men. Men who have sex with men (MSM) have been excluded from donating blood in the United States since 1983. (Dr. Mark Schuster, 6/13)

This year has seen an array of anti-transgender legislation. Florida Gov. Ron DeSantis’ administration is pursuing policies to restrict transition-related care for transgender minors and to block Medicaid coverage of this care for anyone. In 2022, legislation in 20 states so far has been introduced purporting to “protect” trans youth — by criminalizing care that has been used safely worldwide for decades. There have been two notable recent victories protecting trans healthcare. A preliminary injunction in Alabama blocked enforcement of the state’s ban on gender-affirming drug treatments for minors, and the Texas Supreme Court halted a state investigation into one family with a transgender minor prompted by Gov. Greg Abbott’s attempt to treat gender-affirming care as “child abuse.” Although these rulings are important, they cannot counter state legislatures relying on toxic distortions and outright falsehoods about science to push anti-trans policy. (Christy Olezeski, Meredithe McNamara and Anne Alstott, 6/13)

I’m a guide dog user, as the terminology goes. I travel everywhere in the company of a professionally trained guide dog. She can prevent me from being struck by cars and stop me from falling down stairs. She can walk me around detours on sidewalks and take evasive action when a kid on a skateboard veers toward us. During her training, she was introduced to sudden, frightening noises — her trainers fired an Olympic starter pistol to simulate the sound of a car backfiring. She can do almost anything to keep us safe as a team. But no: She cannot protect us from public violence. (Stephen Kuusisto, 6/13)

“I don’t want to call you, Dr. Novick, to tell you one of these kids has been shot.” That’s how the grandmother of one of my patients explained why her grandson, a star athlete, is learning remotely. There are too many shootings on his walk home from school, so he stays in his room now, with no sports and no hope for a college scholarship. As a pediatrician in Philadelphia, I hear this sentiment every day. More families than I can count live their entire lives inside homes to avoid gun violence. Many have lost loved ones; others are petrified they will. Children are home-schooling, withdrawing from activities and avoiding games with friends on their blocks. The combination of loss, fear and social isolation creates a degree of suffering unlike any I’ve seen over 26 years in this work. (Dorothy R. Novick, 6/13)