In the middle, he stood / Between darkness and good / Both selves beckoning him to a side / And in the fight, a small piece of him died
1st year of medical school: Don’t remember much. MD/PhD students, you know what I mean. Learned how to use a stethoscope. 2nd year of medical school: Everything a blur except Step 1 introduced me to my friends melatonin, Benadryl, Ambien And my best friend Lunesta. 3rd year of medical school: First clerkship: Ambulatory. First time I saw a patient by myself! It took an hour and a half! Attending happy? Attending not happy. Second clerkship: …
they are / people first / more than just numbers and / statistics on a computer screen
This path has been far from cookie cutter, / From being kneaded and rolled / By demanding needs to fulfill multiple roles, / I can’t help but wonder, will I make the cut?
I feel like a child wearing his father’s coat / The starched, fabric seems like a costume
The paratrooper shook as they descended upon him. / Prepared to interrogate him with hollow-point questions
We strive to identify as a generation of idealists. / We are politically aware, socially conscious young adults. / We place our collective purchasing power behind products with a social mission.
I first heard the click, click of her black stilettos / Her heels narrowed to a tiny point that seemed to pierce the ground. / I imagined the floor whimpering at every step she took / The faces of terrified tiles reflecting in glistening heels
After a day of screams and sorrow and blood, / Every drop of my compassion leached from me. / Racing home to beat the dawn…
In the playbook of professionalism, / Where is room for the physician who / Reads German poetry to the dying patient / For days and days until her end?
“Please not me,” I pray earnestly. Not me. Not me. I don’t want to become the medical student-turned-resident-turned-physician who loses empathy. The one who loses compassion. The one who takes lives and near death experiences for granted, who quickly learns, as an ER attending once bluntly stated, that “everyone’s a liar.” Not me.
The mother looks at the doctor / and back at me. / The baby smiles. / She says, / “She won’t keep her food down.”