Grandmother
I did not know I was feeling sadness until I found it hard to swallow. There is no reason for it, I thought. At 94, she is still sharp, most of the time.
I did not know I was feeling sadness until I found it hard to swallow. There is no reason for it, I thought. At 94, she is still sharp, most of the time.
Tears hold onto the ledges of her eyes. As the physician and I approach, a quivering begins. It emerges at the jaw, a flutter running across her lips, only to drop onto her shoulders and envelop her hands.
I slide through the door swung open by the janitor. It closes with a metallic shudder.
his eyes beyond his glasses / dart from me / rest on the corners
It was a tangent during conversation, but I felt my jaw tighten as soon as I heard it. Proposed changes, increase in work hours, for the good of the patients and of the doctors too. It was a Friday evening as I was working on a project with colleagues. As we scuttled toward a new topic, my thoughts were heavy and my hands, anxious. A friend brought up the proposed revisions concerning medical interns’ work hours the Accreditation Council for Graduate Medical Education is pushing to a vote in February. ACGME is looking to raise the number of hours that can be worked consecutively by medical interns from 16 to 24 hours, plus an extra four for patient handoffs.
I had just finished my second test in medical school. I flopped down next to a fellow student I met barely a month ago, exasperated and on the verge of tears. I was exhausted and quickly becoming emotional, realizing I was too uncertain about a (large) handful of those musculoskeletal questions.