Ojibwe author Jim Northrup took me aside at his seventieth birthday party a couple of years ago and told me it was time for me to write a book.

These young doctors spent their entire lives aiming for the stars and have worked tirelessly to fill those seats in the classroom. They have self-selected to be those who want to practice in small communities and on reservations. They have inside them the will and the strength to work within these constraints and overcome the barriers placed in front of them. They are the ones who will care about our homeless, those less fortunate, our unemployed and our veterans. These will be our doctors. In

I always consider being a doctor the peak of the mountain in the medical field. It makes a difference where you started from when you’re standing on that peak. Some start from the deepest of valleys and it’s those students who need the most help and the most support.

Dr. Vainio, am I going to die? Yes. And there's nothing you can do? No. I'm afraid to die. Should I be? I don't know, Agnes. I don't know. In the Spirit of Medicine features the essays of Dr. Arne Vainio, an enrolled member of the Mille Lacs Band of Ojibwe and a family practice doctor on the Fond Du Lac reservation in Cloquet. His essays on life, work, medicine, and spirit are published on Indianz.com and you can read the transcript of this story below. By Arne Vainio, M.D News From Indian

Women are from Venus, men are from Mars. That’s true in personal interactions, but it’s also true when it comes to heart disease.

You have too much to offer to let this gift go. This gift is a blessing, but it can also be a burden and a curse. When Jake plays the piano, there’s something in there that makes me cry. Every single time. Your drawings and your artwork have that same power. When you create something, it shows others what is inside you. But more importantly, it shows them what is inside them. In the Spirit of Medicine features the essays of Dr. Arne Vainio, an enrolled member of the Mille Lacs Band of Ojibwe and

He turned on the amplifier and I expected to hear the twangy sounds of the 1950’s. Poodle skirts and ducktail haircuts were in my mind, but what came out of the guitar was the blues. Not just any blues, but the heart-wrenching blues from a life that didn’t deliver what was expected. I could hear his anguish and the guitar moaning as he was saying goodbye to an old friend who was moving on and leaving him behind. In the Spirit of Medicine features the essays of Dr. Arne Vainio, an enrolled member

I was trying to get my jack under the car without kneeling and I didn’t want to have my pants wet all day in the clinic. I finally got my jack under the car next to her jack and raised the car enough to put the old tire back on. I had two of the lug nuts halfway on when her jack buckled and collapsed and the car lurched forward. That put all the weight of the car on my jack and as the car went forward, my jack collapsed and folded and the old tire was barely on the car. It was plain to see there

What did he do to bring this upon himself? Likely what all babies do. He cried, he needed changing and feeding. He woke up in the middle of the night. He got sick. He asked his dad to grow up before he was ready. He cried some more. In the Spirit of Medicine features the essays of Dr. Arne Vainio, an enrolled member of the Mille Lacs Band of Ojibwe and a family practice doctor on the Fond Du Lac reservation in Cloquet. His essays on life, work, medicine, and spirit are published on Indianz.com

The hamburger steak was tough and I had the dirty fork stuck in it and I was sawing on the steak with the butter knife. As I was sawing on it, the plate moved to the edge of the table and flipped over and landed on the floor.