Contributing Writer
Texas Christian University Burnett School of Medicine
Martha-Grace McLean is a medical student at TCU Burnett School of Medicine in Fort Worth, TX class of 2028. She graduated from University of Florida with a Bachelor of Science in psychology in 2023. She enjoys reading, running and painting in her free time. After graduating medical school Martha-Grace would like to pursue a career in pediatrics.
I walked up the stairs in my heels, white coat and stethoscope, which I had no idea how to use, on the first day of my first clinical day two weeks into medical school. The question of whether I belonged in a position of authority felt more prominent than ever as patients in the lobby passively asked me about their treatments and I waited for the staff to return from their lunch break. I told …
I have always been taught to treat the patient and not the disease. As a first-year medical student, I am not sure I know how to treat either yet, but I know that putting a face to a disease is crucial to my training as a physician. I have always been intrigued by human stories in medicine that involve difficult and often stressful conversations because they have a tendency to become flashbulb memories that impact …
Science, in German, is Wissenschaft, which translates to “pursuit of knowledge” in English. I recently finished my neuroscience PhD training and revisited my scientific journey spanning from my teenage years to my PhD thesis. As a teenager, I was busy memorizing knowledge from textbooks. As an undergraduate, I had some experiences where I learned that science is not always as clear-cut as what I was taught in classes. As a PhD student, I have been trained to look at scientific findings with a critical eye and always ask if they are accurate.
This was my patient. I sat with her, held her hand, coaxed her to share pieces of her life story from underneath the covers.
Moving to Arizona for an eight-year dual-degree MD/PhD program was one of the biggest, and reflecting back, best decisions I had ever made. Though at the time, it truly felt like the scariest commitment of my life.
There is nothing quite like the feeling of puncturing the thin shrink film around a new canvas. Getting ready to paint is a routine — the rumbling of the kettle as I thumb through my collection of teas, picking the perfect album to play on repeat for the evening. Putting on the highlighter yellow shirt from high school plastered with smudges of blacks, greens, and whites from years of previous paintings.
“Patient is a 34-year-old male with a nine-month history of rheumatoid arthritis-associated interstitial lung disease who is currently being treated with mycophenolate and rituximab. He remains on high-flow nasal cannula with oxygen saturations of 84-87% overnight. Transplant team signed off as the patient did not qualify for transplant. He reports feeling well this morning and that he learned a great new magic trick with a disappearing card.”
Oh God, what time is it? I stumbled over to my bedside table in pitch-black darkness, thanks to my new blackout curtains, which continue to be the best financial decision I have ever made, and checked my phone that was blasting my alarm.
As patients moved in and out of the modest office for their appointments, their duffel bags and luggage in tow containing all their personal belongings, the day unfolded in typical fashion. Yet, within the confines of this psychiatry office catering exclusively to the local unhoused population, “normal” took on a unique meaning.
At the start of clinical rotations, we are urged by preceptors to immerse ourselves in the experience, advocate for our patients and strive to understand them better than the rest of the team. I could not, however, shake an underlying thought: Why would any patient divulge their most intimate details to someone so inexperienced? After all, I was just a medical student.
“Could you water my plants?” I asked my roommate when I was out of town. They say it takes a village to raise a child, make it through medical school, to do anything worth knowing. When I started medical school, I had a village: parents, friends, family, a partner and my plants.
I do not know what to say or feel when I first meet you. My first instinct is to introduce myself, but you can neither hear me nor reply.
Contributing Writer
Rutgers Robert Wood Johnson Medical School
Jillian is a medical student at Rutgers Robert Wood Johnson Medical School in Piscataway, New Jersey class of 2027. In 2020, she graduated from Columbia University with a Bachelor of Arts in biology. She enjoys writing, singing and practicing archery in her free time. In the future, Jillian would like to pursue a career in dermatology.
