This uncertainty underscored a fundamental truth: Science is not a product or a dogma, but instead a process that unravels. Science is a method of inquiry that thrives on iteration, questioning and authentically admitting ignorance. In that way, science is not to be gatekept by scientists; rather, we must invite the general population to adopt scientific mindsets and become citizen scientists.
Toward that end, the pandemic reinforced that understanding patient perspectives is as crucial as discovering pathophysiologic mechanisms. Even five years after COVID-19 entered the stage, we’re still trying to inculcate a culture of experience-informed medicine and negotiate the need for patience in biomedical science with the pressing need to answer urgent questions.
The Present Matters
Amid the complete disorder unleashed by the pandemic, many of us found ourselves reassessing our priorities and our values. The greatest realization that COVID-19 forced upon me was a renewed appreciation for the present. When the world slowed down, I began noticing the small moments that once slipped by unnoticed: morning sunlight filtering through the kitchen window, the sound of my children laughing in the next room, the quiet satisfaction of completing a telehealth visit without technical glitches (these were rare).
Mindfulness, once an abstract concept, became a survival strategy. Without human contact beyond people in my bubble, I found myself revisiting events in the distant past, often with great regret and reflecting the grief I felt in my day to day. At the same time, I couldn’t imagine what the future would look like, with my own mortality on the line. It is safe to say that in that March, I felt like I was losing control of my mind.
Slowly I realized that although I couldn’t control the pandemic’s trajectory, I could control how I engaged with each day. This shift wasn’t just personal; it influenced my practice as well. In clinic, I found myself asking different questions—not just about pain and function, but about how patients were experiencing life amid uncertainty. What brought them joy? What small victories had they celebrated that week?
We are fortunate because we are living in a future that we weren’t sure would even occur. For that reason, I’ve concluded that living in the present doesn’t mean ignoring the future. It means recognizing that each moment holds value, even when the world feels precarious. As rheumatologists, we often work toward long-term goals—disease remission, functional improvement, better quality of life. But the pandemic reinforced that the journey matters as much as the destination. Every appointment, every conversation, every moment of shared understanding is an opportunity to connect, to heal and to find meaning in the now.
