Writer, advocate, and co-creator of the Glaucomflecken universe, Kristin Flanary joins the show to explore the unexpected intersections of humor, healthcare, and co-survivorship. Known online as Lady Glaucomflecken, Kristin shares her journey from casual Twitter banter to public advocacy after performing life-saving CPR on her husband, physician and comedian Dr. Will Flanary, during his sudden cardiac arrest.

In a system designed to center only the patient, where does that leave the partner who’s living through the trauma too? And what happens when caregivers are treated as accessories to recovery rather than humans navigating shock, PTSD, and grief of their own? Kristin reflects on the emotional toll of being a co-survivor, the role of humor in healing, and why changing the language we use in medicine is more powerful than we realize. We also unpack what it’s like to build a life around a doctor’s schedule, how med school and training affects more than just the trainee, and why prestige in medicine is often overrated.

This episode shines a light on the forgotten patients, while challenging doctors to approach families with more intention and empathy. If you’ve ever struggled to be seen in the healthcare system or want to better understand the people who stand beside the patient, this one is for you.

Here are five takeaways from the conversation with Kristin:

1. Co-Survivors Are the Forgotten Patients

Kristin highlights how caregivers often experience trauma parallel to the patient but are rarely acknowledged or supported. Recognizing co-survivorship is essential for holistic care.

2. Language in Medicine Matters

Thoughtless phrasing—even when clinically accurate—can unintentionally cause harm. Kristin shares how a single sentence during her husband’s hospitalization left a lasting emotional impact.

3. Humor as a Coping Mechanism

Gallows humor has long been a tool for healthcare professionals to process trauma. Kristin and Will’s public use of comedy helps normalize this and offers catharsis for others.

4. Residency Affects the Whole Family

Medical training doesn’t just challenge the trainee—it reshapes the lives of their partners and families. Kristin shares candid insights on navigating marriage, parenting, and identity during those years.

5. Systemic Change Starts with Empathy

From palliative care to paid family leave, Kristin advocates for structural reforms that prioritize human needs—reminding us that compassion should be the baseline, not the bonus.

Transcript

Michael Jerkins:
Like I said, it should just be table stakes and not something to brag about. Like we wouldn’t brag that our ER has oxygen for patients who can’t breathe.

Kristin Flanary:
Exactly.

Right, if you think about it, it’s a little bit embarrassing that that feels like something to brag about.

MJ:
Kristin Flanary, aka Lady Glaucomflecken, is a podcaster, speaker, writer, and advocate recognized for her humorous and insightful contributions to the medical community. As the wife of Dr. Will Flanary, also known as the comedic figure Dr. Glaucomflecken, Kristin became a prominent voice on the topics of trauma, resilience, and co-survivorship after saving her husband from sudden cardiac arrest. With a background in psychology, she champions the recognition and support of caregivers and co-survivors in medical care.

She and her husband co-host the medical comedy podcast Knock Knock High with the Glaucomfleckens and are currently touring Wife and Death, a live stage show based on their life story. Lady Glaucomflecken, welcome to the podcast.

KF:
Thank you, thanks for having me. I’m happy to be here.

MJ:
I looked at your tour dates for Wife and Death and didn’t see any in Little Rock, Arkansas, but maybe you can add those—sometimes a great audience here.

KF:
Yeah, we’re working on the next ones. We kind of took a little bit of a hiatus because of, you know, life and parenting and whatnot. But yeah, we’re not done touring it, so you never know.

MJ:
Okay, well that’s awesome. Tell us a little bit about the origin story of the Glaucomflecken family universe. How did this all come about?

KF:
Yeah, that’s a great question. By accident is the short answer. My husband, when he was in high school, had a hobby of stand-up comedy. He lived in Houston, Texas, and would go to comedy clubs to workshop material. He had to leave by whatever time you had to be 21-plus—like he’s been doing it for that long.

During med school and residency, it got a little difficult to keep up with any sort of hobby. But he started on Twitter. Actually, before that, he was writing for a blog called Gomer Blog, which is like The Onion for medical professionals. Some of your audience might remember that.

He needed a pseudonym for it because everyone used one. So he thought, “I’m in ophthalmology residency—what’s the most ridiculous word in ophthalmology I can think of?” And that’s how he landed on Dr. Glaucomflecken. From there, he started writing tweets to workshop his jokes since he couldn’t get to comedy clubs during residency.

It just spiraled from there. He went on TikTok once that became a thing in early 2020. He started making videos, and it just blew up during the pandemic—like so many other creators. His audience is mostly healthcare professionals, and as you know, we were in a rough spot at that time.

It was cathartic for them to come home after a long day and watch one of his skits that made them feel seen or gave them a reason to laugh. It just snowballed after that.

MJ:
Thank you for that, because that resonates with me. I was an attending in 2020 on an internal medicine hospital service and had an ophtho prelim. We were joking about ophthalmoscopes and how I didn’t know how to use one. If a patient needed an eye exam, he could figure it out.

He showed me a video—something like “people pretending to use an ophthalmoscope who aren’t ophthalmologists.” That was my first exposure. It was amazing.

Tell me a little bit about how that all started to happen and then your story—when you began stepping into the spotlight as well.

KF:
I didn’t ever mean to be in the spotlight, per se. That came later, I guess. At first, it was just when he was on Twitter. Med Twitter was a huge thing back then. It was this really wonderful community that I really miss. It hasn’t really congealed on any other platform since Twitter became X.

He’d be on Twitter, laughing to himself on his phone, having such a good time. He was spending so much time doing it that I was like, “If I’m ever gonna talk to you again, I have to be on Twitter to figure out what’s going on over there.”

So I got on as Lady Glaucomflecken. He already had quite a large audience as Dr. Glaucomflecken, so I just went with “Lady.” Very creative, I know.

I got on mostly to check it out and so we could have a shared experience—a shared conversation at the dinner table. I’d know who all these people were and the inside jokes. That evolved into roasting him, because he was too beloved. It was getting ridiculous.

I was like, “You guys, I can’t deal with you just paying compliments to my husband all the time—we need to balance this out.” So I started roasting him.

MJ:
Everyone needs a troll, I guess, right?

KF:
Exactly. I consider myself a heckler, not a troll—but sure, okay.

We’ve always had a lot of banter between us, so I just took that online. That was just for fun. But then in May of 2020, he had a sudden cardiac arrest in his sleep. I did 10 minutes of CPR. A lot came after that, but long story short, he’s completely healthy now—physically and neurologically intact.

It was very—we got very, very lucky. He had already had cancer twice by that point: testicular cancer in med school, and then another primary testicular cancer in residency. Not from treatment—just two separate primaries, both treated with surgery. Then the cardiac arrest.

So this was my third go-round, but by far the most traumatic. I didn’t personally have the pathology, but all those things happened to me too. My life was just as upended as his, because our lives are so closely intertwined.

I was very traumatized. I think I had some PTSD. I wasn’t capable of seeking out a therapist, but in retrospect, I was probably in a dissociative PTSD state.

I was looking for resources, support, answers—anything. Like, he survived, we’re so lucky—so why do I feel so awful? And I couldn’t find anything. I stayed in this semi-dissociative state for about six months.

Eventually, I found some things that helped bring me out of it. One of those things was coming across the term forgotten patient, and then co-survivor. That clicked instantly. I thought, “Yes, this is it. This is what I’ve been experiencing. This is why I’m struggling.”

Just finding that term was healing. There hadn’t even been a name to search for—what do you even Google? And if you do, there’s nothing helpful.

So after that, I intentionally started stepping into the spotlight to advocate for co-survivorship and raise awareness. Since our audience is mostly healthcare professionals, I had an opportunity to raise awareness within that population too—so they can recognize and better support co-survivors when they encounter them.

MJ:
I actually listened to the 911 call. Over the years I’d heard about it, just through the ecosystem. It’s pretty incredible.

Since you started raising awareness with healthcare providers, what are the things that surprise you that we’re not aware of? What surprises you in these conversations with us?

KF:
The main thing—well, it wasn’t surprising, but it was frustrating—is that if they acknowledge you at all, it’s only in relation to the patient. As the patient’s caregiver.

There’s this idea that caregivers should be seen as part of the care team. That’s true—they are usually the one going home with the patient and handling care.

However, they’re also their own person with their own experience. And they are suffering from the same illness—it’s just a different kind of suffering. Their lives are just as affected.

I was ignored completely maybe 95% of the time. When I was addressed, it was in that caregiving role. But what I really needed was someone to care for me, too.

I’ve been along for the ride since college. I’m not a physician, but I’ve seen the entire journey—from premed to private practice—so I have a lot of love and sympathy for physicians. I’m not saying it’s their job to provide psychological care.

But I do think it’s the system’s responsibility. That kind of support should exist. Physicians should at least be aware that co-survivors exist, so they can recognize them and know what to do—whether that’s referring them somewhere or just showing compassion.

Just be human in your interactions. Understand that this person is probably traumatized, probably in shock. That will affect what they need and how well they can hear you, remember instructions, and so on.

MJ:

I am half pediatrician, and so I feel like I do a pretty good job with that.

KF:

Yeah, the pediatricians are the best. Yeah.

MJ:

But I’m not trying to do mono-harm. My other half is an internist, and I feel like I probably don’t do as good of a job as I need to because I am probably more focused on the patient and less focused on the family that came with them. But most of the time, quite frankly, there isn’t family in the room. I do outpatient medicine.

KF:

Yeah, so then they’re not sitting in a hospital room with them.

MJ:

Yes, exactly. And so I’m wondering—for outpatient doctors especially—do you have any best practices? What kind of advice would you give to doctors who maybe this is a new concept? It shouldn’t be a new concept—to be a human and actually talk to someone and be empathetic and normal.

KF:

You would be surprised.

MJ:

It’s funny about that—this is a side note. I remember the summer before my first year of med school, I had a friend already in school. He was like, you know, gold human—all the awards, everything you’re supposed to do.

I remember asking him, “What should I do to prep? Should I read something?” He said, “No, don’t worry about that. You just need to know how to talk to people.”

He was like, “Some of the smartest people in our class have the personality of a serial killer.” So I thought, “Okay, I’ve got that part down. I might have to study molecular biology some, but…” Anyway, I digress. What best practices would you suggest for those wondering?

KF:

Yeah, so if the co-survivor is present, choosing your language very thoughtfully matters. For example, when my husband was in between the ER and the ICU—we were still trying to figure out what was wrong—everything was coming back normal, so we had no idea.

A cardiologist from the ER came in to give me an update and said something I’m sure he doesn’t remember at all, but I have never forgotten:

“I would have liked it better if you had seen him collapse.”

This happened at 4:45 in the morning when we were both asleep. I had just done 10 minutes of CPR. I was exhausted, in shock, traumatized.

I knew what he meant—he meant that knowing the time between the collapse and CPR would be clinically helpful. But there are better ways to say that. Saying “I would have liked it better if you had seen him collapse” felt like blame or failure.

Even if logically I understood what he was trying to say, emotionally it was still a gut punch. So being intentional about wording matters.

Dr. Rana Awdish talks about this in her book In Shock, which really helped bring me out of my PTSD. She talks about language in medicine—like saying “my patient is trying to die on me.” That kind of phrasing places blame, even if unintentionally.

In an inpatient setting, being aware of that language matters. In outpatient, it’s not as acute, but still—ask things like:

“Hey, how’s your family doing?”

“Are there any resources we can send home that might help them?”

Just remembering that illness doesn’t end at the boundaries of the patient’s body.

MJ:

Yeah, we’re people helping people at the end of the day. It’s not just a transaction—“you give me symptoms, I give you a diagnosis or management.”

KF:

Yes, we’re not just vessels for pathology—we are people.

MJ:

And part of that… there’s this quote I think about:

“Every system is perfectly designed for the results it gets.”

So if we’re churning out providers who are laser-focused on just seeing the next patient because four or five people are waiting—that’s the result of the system.

You mentioned the system earlier—do you have thoughts on how we could better design it to help doctors flourish and be more humanistic?

KF:

Yeah, I have so many thoughts on that. But I’ll just caveat: I know this is a huge issue. Changing anything in the healthcare system is monumental. Some of the solutions are simple but not easy.

That said, I think—without being political—the system we have is working exactly as designed. It’s a profit-driven model, so it prioritizes efficiency, cutting costs, and throughput. That’s the business model.

If we want different outcomes, we’d need a different system. And I’ll just leave that there—being as diplomatic as possible.

Still, even within the current system, there are models that work. Pediatrics is one. You have child life specialists.

Why do we stop doing that when someone turns 18? I wish we had life specialists for every stage of life and illness. That would be amazing.

MJ:

It’s not like you turn 18 and suddenly don’t need anything anymore.

KF:

Exactly. So the model is already there. We just need to spread it to other areas.

Palliative care is another great example. And a lot of physicians don’t realize palliative care is not the same as hospice.

I could have really used a palliative care doctor to stop by and talk to me. I literally wasn’t capable of finding a phone number, calling, setting up a therapist appointment—just wasn’t in me at that point.

But if someone had just come by and said, “Hey, do you want to talk?” I would have said yes. I needed that.

Social workers, chaplains—same thing. A lot of hospitals have those resources. And that’s amazing.

But I want it to be everywhere. Right now it’s case-by-case. Building that into the system intentionally would help everyone—including physicians.

You all deal with so much trauma, moral injury, grief—it would benefit everyone to explore these kinds of support.

MJ:

Like you said, it should just be table stakes, not something to brag about. Like, we don’t brag that our ER has oxygen for patients who can’t breathe.

KF:

Exactly.

Right—if you think about it, it’s a little embarrassing that that feels like something to brag about.

MJ:

Yes, totally agree. Palliative is one of my favorites. I love my palliative care colleagues. Honestly, if I specialized, it might have been in palliative.

Also, the smartest doctor I’ve ever met is a med-peds palliative doc. She might be listening—just saying.

But they’re a great group. I’m thinking about how you both have turned your work into this humanistic expression—and you’ve mentioned humor as part of that.

Can you talk about how doctors can use humor to survive in this system?

KF:

It’s nothing new. Doctors have always used gallows humor—it’s just been behind closed doors.

And there’s a reason: you’re not laughing at something, you’re laughing to cope with something.

That first time in med school when you’re operating on a cadaver—step back and think about that from a 30,000-foot view. That’s actually a really traumatic thing to do.

So humor becomes a coping mechanism. You’re in a situation that’s being presented as normal, but it’s not personally normal at all.

Humor helps you regain control over something frightening. Laughing relieves tension, fear.

Will’s just doing it very publicly—but you’ve all been doing it forever.

MJ:

Yeah, that first day in gross anatomy—you eventually wear away at your natural reactions to situations.

KF:

Right. You get kind of desensitized.

MJ:

Yes, that’s like part of the process of academic or medical training in general—this desensitization.

I was also reading your bio where you said, against best practices, you had children during med school and residency—which we did as well, also against best practices.

I’d love your opinion on the current state of medical education. Let’s just stick with residency and fellowship for now.

What is it like to be the significant other of someone going through that?

What’s your opinion of the current system, and what could make it better?

That’s three questions in one—sorry! Take it wherever you’d like.

KF:

Yeah, I’ll preface this by saying I’m further out from residency than I’d like to admit, so things might have changed. But—

It’s not great.

Being the spouse of a resident was one of the things that gave me immense pause when we were thinking about getting married. I did the worst thing possible: I Googled what it’s like to be married to someone in residency.

I didn’t find anything positive, so that was a mistake.

It’s very difficult. You barely get to see them. You take on the lion’s share of everything in your life. Your goals don’t always get considered—sometimes they can’t be, because of program requirements that are outside your spouse’s control.

It’s hard. And even having a good support system doesn’t help much if you’re in a new city, which a lot of people are.

For me, what helped was having my own thing. I was never going to be the person waiting at home with dinner ready. I had my own job, my own friends, my own career. We had two kids, and I was raising them—it was a lot.

What got me through it was reminding myself:

“This is temporary. It’s a long time, but still temporary.”

And also thinking:

“It’s not me versus him. It’s us versus all this—life, training, the system.”

That framing really helped.

We tried to stay really communicative, like:

“Hey, this isn’t working. Let’s figure something out.”

And maybe your spouse can’t help—but maybe someone else can. Another family. A friend. Childcare swaps. Whatever works.

Also, some programs really try. At University of Iowa, where my husband was, the ophthalmology PD really made an effort to include families. Things like inviting families to the start-of-year events, welcoming kids—that makes a big difference.

Other things were well-intentioned but had downsides. Like:

There was an away rotation two hours away for a month or six weeks. The department provided an apartment with two bedrooms so families could come.

MJ:

Yeah, probably a month or six weeks for us too.

KF:

Yeah. So great intention—they wanted to accommodate families.

But realistically? I had a job. I couldn’t just pick up and go. This was before remote work. Our two kids were in daycare, and daycare is insanely expensive.

If we pulled them out, we’d lose our spots—and it can take a year to get into daycare.

MJ:

Minimum. That’s a good daycare.

KF:

Exactly. So we couldn’t leave daycare, I couldn’t leave my job…

So we just had to be apart. He’d come home on weekends.

Again—great idea, but not fully thought through.

MJ:

Yeah, it’s interesting—there are surveys about what makes residents/fellows satisfied with their program.

It’s never about prestige, rank, or even geography. It’s this vague thing: “program fit.”

And I think what you just described is part of that.

I came into residency married, and our son was six months old. So I was trying to figure out what this “fit” thing really meant.

For us, we found community in the program.

Other spouses, other parents—even Ned, who’s not here—he would take one of his four precious days off a month to babysit our kid, just so my wife could go be a person again.

KF:

I get that. That’s how I am with my husband, too.

MJ:

Yeah, same vibe.

That kind of support matters.

It’s harder now with virtual interviews. Applicants don’t get to experience those intangible parts—the vibe, the community—that you can’t see on a website or Excel sheet.

KF:

Yeah, when you’re there in person, you feel it.

Even the city vibe matters.

When my husband matched at Iowa, I cried. I didn’t know anything about Iowa. I just imagined cornfields, pigs, and thinking:

“What am I going to do for a career there?”

But then I visited—and it’s a beautiful college town. Way better than I imagined.

Honestly, it ended up being one of our favorite places we’ve ever lived.

If we’d only done virtual interviews, I don’t know if he would’ve ranked it. Visiting changed everything.

MJ:

Yeah—tell me your match day story. You mentioned crying?

KF:

So, ophthalmology has its own match, separate from the main Match Day.

He found out where he was going for ophtho in January or February. Then on regular Match Day, it was just his transitional year placement.

The ophtho match was private—just log in and see it. No big event. Thankfully.

He ranked Michigan first, and Iowa second. He liked both—but Michigan had a good ultimate frisbee scene. That tipped the scales.

MJ:

That’s usually not on anyone’s match rank spreadsheet.

KF:

Right? Comedy and frisbee—nobody plans for that.

But I felt OK about moving to Ann Arbor. Seemed charming.

My issue with Iowa was totally based on my own bad assumptions. I imagined rural farmland and thought, What will I do there? So I cried. I was trying to be supportive—but it was hard.

MJ:

Yeah, that’s tough.

KF:

It took time. He kept saying, “Just wait till you see it.” And he was right.

When I finally did, I realized it’s actually a lot like Ann Arbor. Great little town.

MJ:

Just… less frisbee.

KF:

Yeah, unfortunately for him—but fortunately for me. Because if he’d been gone all day at residency and out playing frisbee after…

MJ:

Yeah, that’d be a problem.

When we matched at Cincinnati, I didn’t even know where it was in Ohio. I’d never been to Ohio at all.

But once we visited, my wife and I fell in love with it.

Thankfully, it ended up being a great experience.

KF:

Yeah. So maybe that’s the takeaway—don’t prejudge these cities if you don’t have any experience, because you might be pleasantly surprised.

MJ:

Exactly. The key I’ve learned is: low expectations. If you have low expectations, everything is great.

KF:

Yes, that’s right.

MJ:

Exactly.

Alright, I’ve got some kind of tough—but meant-to-be-fun—rapid-fire questions. They’re conversation starters and we’ll end with some true/false.

First question: What’s the biggest lie we tell ourselves, and how?

KF:

That we don’t care.

MJ:

That resonates.

What’s a hill you’re willing to die on in medicine?

KF:

Paid family leave. For sure. I will be talking about that maybe for the rest of my life. That’s something that deserves support from the healthcare system.

MJ:

I saw some of your work—didn’t you work with the AHA on that? Are you seeing much progress? Are people starting to take it seriously?

KF:

Mm-hmm. I’ve seen some movement, and I’m so happy about that.

I’ve pushed for some of it, but not all. It’s also happening in other places, which I take as a really good sign—it’s gaining momentum.

I co-authored a paper with AHA on family needs and co-survivorship. I’ve also been speaking at all sorts of conferences for the last five years, and that word—co-survivorship—is finally getting some recognition.

I didn’t coin the term; it came from a paper by Katie Dainty in Canada and Kiersey Haywood. It had popped up in some places—like in the breast cancer community—but wasn’t widely known in healthcare.

Now it’s starting to be used more. If you Google it, you’ll actually find it. There are a couple of websites now that didn’t exist five years ago.

One is called HeartSight—I helped build it, and it’s the resource I wish I’d had. I wasn’t leading it, but I did contribute my perspective, writing, and ideas.

It explains what this experience is, what’s happened to you, and gives resources.

The other is CASA – Cardiac Arrest Survivor Alliance. It’s more of an online support group. HeartSight leans heavier on the information and research side. CASA is lighter on that but strong in community and peer support.

MJ:

Kudos on all that work—it’s amazing.

Tough transition here, but what do you think is the most overrated part of being a doctor?

KF:

Thank you.

Gosh, the first thing that came to mind—so I’ll go with it—is prestige.

It’s not what people think. From the outside, it looks one way—but the lived experience, either as a physician or part of a physician’s family, is very different.

MJ:

Totally agree. Looking back—especially since you’ve been through pre-med, med school, and residency—what’s the best and worst advice you were given?

KF:

Honestly, I don’t know if I even got any advice.

MJ:

Well, that’s probably better than getting bad advice.

KF:

Actually, one thing I did hear—and it really resonated—was that it’s not me vs. him, it’s us vs. the system. That wasn’t mine; I came across it somewhere, but it stuck with me.

Also—not advice, but the most annoying thing I kept hearing was:

“Well, at least you’ll make a lot of money.”

As if that means you’re not allowed to struggle or complain.

MJ:

Right. And apparently the debt doesn’t matter either? That’s just part of the deal.

KF:

The finances are so different than people think they’re going to be.

MJ:

Totally.

You know, my dad’s a physician, and he still has his old med school tuition slip—$700 for a semester.

It’s a totally different ballgame now.

It’s frustrating when people over 70 or 80 make public comments about how medical/dental/vet school isn’t worth it anymore.

KF:

Yeah, it was a different system. Things have changed so much.

MJ:

Right—and now there’s a new law capping student loans at $200K. Someone recently said if you pay more than $100K to become a doctor, you’re getting ripped off. Like… where are you finding a school under $100K?

KF:

Exactly. Where?

MJ:

And the wild part? I didn’t even realize until recently: dental residents often pay for residency.

Three, four, five hundred thousand dollars in debt isn’t unusual. What are they supposed to do?

KF:

It’s so short-sighted to dismiss it.

MJ:

Alright, let’s wrap up with some true/false!

I’ll say a statement—you say whether it’s true or false.

Doctors are the worst patients—true or false?

KF:

Oh, 100% true.

My husband is at the top of the list.

MJ:

Even after all you’ve both experienced?

KF:

Yes! If I don’t stay on top of it—and I hate the word nag—but if I don’t follow up, he just doesn’t do it.

I’m like: Don’t you know how important this is?

MJ:

Why are we so bad about that? It’s such a universal thing.

KF:

I don’t know. It’s like—if you’re not actively dying, then you’re fine. That’s the filter.

MJ:

That’s probably it. We’ve seen people who are really sick, and we think, “Well, I’m not that sick.”

So we ignore it.

KF:

Exactly—your barometer is off.

MJ:

We solved it.

True or false: Med school is harder than residency—for a significant other.

KF:

For me, residency was harder—because during med school, I was in grad school. We were both studying all the time.

But if you’re not going through something similar alongside them, I can see how med school would be really hard.

MJ:

Yeah… really heavy bookbags.

True or false: The phrase “golden weekend” should be used by attendings just to describe a normal weekend—as a reminder of how terrible residency scheduling was.

KF:

I think my husband made a video about that—

A medical person trying to explain to a non-medical friend:

“I have a golden weekend!”

And the friend’s like:

“Oh, is that extra days off?”

“No… it just means I have both Saturday and Sunday off.”

“So… a weekend.”

Exactly.

MJ:

We called it something.

It’s just a weekend, two days— instead of next Thursday and last Sunday or whatever. Call it three-day weekend something, but I don’t remember that term. That didn’t stick with me. I don’t think I ever had one actually. Yeah.

KF:

Right.

If it was, you had to work at least two of the days, so.

MJ:

Exactly.

Right. True or false, AI will never be as funny as humans.

KF:

“Never” is a strong word, but I would at this point in time I would say true because it’s real bad right now. I think we’re in no danger.

MJ:

Real bad, really not fun.

Not funny. All right. Well, I’m going to close with this question. What is one thing that you have recently changed your mind about?

KF

I’m not sure if this is like—see, I’m glad I’m talking to an internist because this irritates my husband and I’m always like, “Well, it depends.” It’s maybe not quite exactly what you’re asking, but—

MJ:

“It’s not unreasonable” is a funny phrase that we say.

KF:

Yes, exactly. So it’s not like a black and white “I had one opinion and I have since changed to a different opinion,” but it is similar in that, like for the last five years, I have been just preaching co-survivorship nonstop and I will continue to do that. But recently, and I think this is just sort of part of the healing journey, right? Recently, I’ve gotten to the point that I’m like, I don’t have to—like emotionally, I don’t feel the need to continue to only talk about that, right?

Like for a while it was therapeutic. And now I think it has moved into just purely advocacy. Like I’m doing okay. And now I’m just talking about it so that the people that come behind me can be doing okay too. So yeah, I’ve been thinking about that lately—Lady Glaucomflecken has become synonymous sort of with co-survivorship, which I am very proud of and will continue, but also I am not just about co-survivorship. I’ve been trying to think about how do I incorporate more of my sort of whole personhood into, you know, what it is that I’m doing all the time with my job and my online presence and all of that.

MJ:

Well, I’m excited to see where that goes and like I said, you should have a lot to be proud of—the legacy you’ve made and the advocacy and good work that you’ve created. Where can people find out more about your work or keep up with what work you’re continuing to do?

KF:

Biggest bucket that you can go to would be our website, Glaucomflecken.com—spelled just like it sounds, shouldn’t have a problem. And any social media platform, we are on, I think, just about all of the major ones anyway. We’re not like cool anymore—we’re getting old—so there’s probably like some Gen Z platforms that we don’t even know about, but we’re on all the major social media platforms.

We have a podcast, Knock Knock High with the Glaucomfleckens, as you mentioned. If that’s like, “That’s too many places, just give me something that’s gonna tell me where to go all the time”—well, we have a newsletter that will do that. We have a weekly newsletter that just sort of rounds up all the stuff that Glaucomflecken put out that week, but also once a month, Will or I or both will write a deep dive into some kind of topic in healthcare. So those would be the major places.

MJ:

Amazing. Well, thank you for your time. This has been very, very fun and appreciate you being with us, Lady Glaucomflecken.

KF:

Thank you. Thank you. Thanks for having me.

MJ:

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