Decades ago, in another time, and — seemingly, another life — I met one of my first professional mentors. He sat before a computer in a newsroom where people still smoked indoors and brought white bread and bologna sandwiches for dinner. He introduced himself to me and pointed out the cramped editors’ carrels and busy switchboard in the newsroom of the Chicago City News Bureau.
This was my first real job since graduating college. As a beat reporter for this news service, I was hired to show up wherever news was happening in the city — to shadow cops to crime scenes; pester politicians as they glad-handed church crowds; haunt the morgue at the early hours of the day, calling in to the editors the who, what, why, and when of those who died overnight in our large, dark city.
“There is only one talent that matters here,” Paul Zimbrakos said to me. “That talent is that you get the story right. We don’t report rumor; we report the truth” He pointed to the wall. On it, written on a poster board affixed with tape was the phrase: “If your mother says she loves you, check it out.”
Zimbrakos, who spent his life making sure that the people of Chicago knew if their schools were being run honestly, if their politicians were on the take, or if their neighborhoods were safe, taught me, with that sentence, the importance of professional credibility. As my professional trajectory meandered from reporting crime, to covering Congress, to night classes in biology, and then to medical school, it is a lesson that has held up.
In our tumbled, anxious time, credibility, especially in the arena of the written word, has taken on an even brighter hue. I think that’s one of the things that I’m most humbled by as I take on the role as Editor-in-Chief of The Hematologist. This is a publication that has a truly dedicated readership. And why not? Since 2004, the editors, writers, and contributors have produced a product that serves the ASH community; respects its audience; and provides concise, relevant, and accurate summaries of important recent findings in basic, translational, and clinical research. Every other month, this is a place where you can find curated assessments of developments in your field and in others, written by scientists and researchers able to report these developments not only correctly but also with context and insight. Nowadays, you can also find podcast summaries to listen to on your way to work, video interviews with authors of important papers and even image challenges to incorporate into your next resident lecture.
I will be taking the reins from Dr. Jason Gotlib, who leaves behind a publication that has really flourished under his leadership. The visibility that he gave to our multimedia options have paid off over the last several years. In the years that Jason served as editor, for example, pageviews for some of the highest profile articles have risen from a little over 11,000 a month to nearly 36,000. Not only did he launch the companion podcasts and video series, but he also championed the creation of a new mobile app. This will debut in early 2018 and allow users to read and browse The Hematologist content via smartphone or tablet device, with the goal of making it easy for readers to access the newsletter wherever and whenever they want to catch up on developments in the field.
So what are my goals? First, not to mess anything up. I don’t believe that this publication needs an overhaul. I believe that it has a loyal readership for a reason, and the foundation of that loyalty is credibility and accuracy. Certainly, there is always room for additional creativity. One idea I have is an occasional department called “The No-Data Zone.” This section would focus on clinical practices that are commonly encountered but where there is a paucity of data. For example, the appropriate way to anticoagulate a patient who is severely thrombocytopenic or the duration of time a patient should be in the hospital after induction for acute myeloid leukemia. The column might end with proposals for how a clinical trial might provide the right answer, thus pointing out opportunities for collaborative research among members and member institutions.
Another idea that I’ve floated is a department called “Close to Home,” where we invite first-person essays on how governmental regulations are impacting the day-to-day life and care of our patients. For example, the Centers for Medicare and Medicaid Services rules on transplantation for myelofibrosis, myeloma, and sickle cell disease; a series on baroque rules about medication reimbursement; or how penalties for readmissions are impacting hospital care of our patients. Beyond that, I’ve considered inviting specialists from other fields such as cardiology or rheumatology to weigh in on where our fields intersect. I have also contemplated a regular “book corner,” in which we invite readers to review a piece of nonmedical literature that has impacted their worldview and perspective.
In closing, I’m humbled and excited to be part of this publication and to join this team of contributing editors and guest authors. I hope to continue with the tradition that I have inherited and expand our impact, all with the aim of keeping our membership engaged and excited about this calling we’ve all chosen. People often have asked me what the differences are between journalism and medicine. I usually respond that the two professions have more in common than one might think. We meet strangers and ask them questions; we are curious. We tell the stories of the people we meet. We approach problems with critical thinking and tenacity. And, as Paul Zimbrakos would demand, we have to get it right.
