Contributing Writer
The University of Toronto's Temerty Faculty of Medicine
Brianna Cheng is a first year medical student at The University of Toronto's Temerty Faculty of Medicine in Canada. In 2020, she graduated from McGill University with a Master's of Science in epidemiology. She writes creative nonfiction in her free time and hopes to continue her interests in narrative medicine after graduating medical school.
I was not happy when I was accepted to medical school, not like I thought I would be. In the hours and days that followed that fateful email, feelings of shock, sadness and nervousness jostled for dominance in my mind as I processed the information.
The instant I activated my phone, it rang. I steadied my microphone and saw 34 callers in the queue. “COVID-19 hotline,” I answered.
As I took my shirt off this morning to shower, I noticed my teres major muscle in the mirror — or more precisely, I identified it for the first time.
If someone asks me how my first year of medical school went, half of the time I dismiss them with a one-word answer, saving them from a conversation they aren’t ready to have. The other half of the time, I tell the truth, just to see what they have to say.
My health deteriorated as I started my second year in medical school. I suffered from intense nausea and abdominal pain, only getting four or five consistent hours of sleep per day. These health issues had started and worsened during the second year, eventually culminating in an emergency cholecystectomy.
My attention swung back and forth between my mom, my screen and the pairs of eyes periodically peering into the hospital room. I focused on the next question on my screen. Another patient had expired as if they were a carton of milk left too long in the fridge.
“Welcome, everybody, to the last module of your second year.” I froze. There was no way. I pulled up Google calendar on my laptop in the increasingly warm lecture hall. Oh my gosh, they were right!
My sister is nine years older than I am. We went to different high schools and currently live over 500 miles apart.
During one of my first patient encounters at the clinic, I remember a young and seemingly indifferent patient come in with earbuds plugged in her ears. Her hands tightly grasped the arms of the exam chair as she anxiously awaited the arrival of the clinic optometrist.
The pungent odor of formaldehyde permeates through the room and I can smell it through my mask and face shield. I am leaning over the body I am dissecting, trying to identify structures as the instructor appears before our tank, armed with a grading pen and a barrage of questions.
When we approached his room, Craig was wedged in the doorway, sitting on his walker angled towards the nurse’s station. It was the first time I had set foot in a hospital as a medical student; the task was to simply chat with a patient for about forty minutes. “Craig?” one of the nurses called out. “Yep! I am Craig, at least I was before I got in here!” he replied. Something about the enthusiasm in his voice appealed to me, so I sat down next to him and struck up a conversation.
One of the most impactful influences on my decision to become a doctor was meeting a patient with multiple sclerosis (MS). I was 19 years old and a hospital volunteer in Michigan. As I was replacing gloves, gowns and towels in my department, I entered the room of an elderly Eastern-European woman.
Managing Editor and Contributing Writer
Arkansas College of Osteopathic Medicine
Ruchica Chandnani is a third year medical student at the Arkansas College of Osteopathic Medicine in Fort Smith, Arkansas. In 2019, she graduated from the University of Michigan - Ann Arbor with a Bachelor of Science in Biopsychology, Cognition, and Neuroscience and a minor in Asian Languages and Culture. In her spare time, she likes watching cartoons and anime, writing, painting, eating, and traveling (esp. solo traveling). Presently, Ruchica is interested in pursuing Psychiatry, Neurology, and/or Anesthesiology and hopes to become an advocate for victims of trauma.
