Columnist
Yale School of Medicine
Max is a third-year medical student at the Yale School of Medicine, with a background in civil and environmental engineering, and bioengineering.
White Coat and a Hoodie
Attending Howard University gave Max a foundation for and continues to inform how he approaches issues related to injustice. Now in medical school, he has made it one of his focal interests to learn about and contribute to progress towards health equity, nationally and globally. Through this column, he will share stories on his experience as a Black man in medicine, and insights on topics of race, class, health equity, and medical education.
When I first read that the Northam picture came from a medical school yearbook, I thought about whoever might have been his Black classmates at the time.
Soon, we were jolted to attention by an overhead announcement, “Attention, code blue. Six south. Attention. Code blue. Six south.”
If gross anatomy has taught me any topics, they are the sheer beauty and capability of the human body.
Recently I have let myself consider how wonderful of a physician Mary Oliver would have been, and how wonderful a medical school classmate.
A half hour passed by before I heard the first trauma announcement overhead. The pager buzzed at the same time and somewhat startled me. I grabbed the on-call phone, pager and shears and quickly walked to the emergency department (ED).
I had just started my third year, and I had already witnessed six patients die. I had never been called a black cloud before this, but it immediately stuck and seemed fitting.
We are proud to share with you our top 12 articles of 2018, and look forward to another year of sharing amazing writing by medical students and many others from across the world.
It was not until our second semester of medical school that we started gross anatomy. Finally, I became that quintessential medical student walking home too tired to change out of my formaldehyde-tinged scrubs.
And now here she was, in the family lounge at a hospital waiting to speak to her father’s neurologist. Her dad, Ricky, had collapsed at work — or so she had been told. This was the most she had heard of her father’s life since she moved out of the house.
During and after this spooky holiday, let us, as current and future health care providers, make a joint effort to prevent our youth from becoming nicotine-addicted zombies by warning them of the tobacco industry’s marketing tricks and encouraging them to stay in e-cigarette-free environments.
Overhead, we hear the monotone hospital announcer’s voice through the intercom system: “CODE BLUE. First floor. Short-term cardiac care unit. Room…”
Medicine is a sacrifice. I knew this upon admittance into medical school. I did not know the sacrifice would be an erosion of my humanity.
Contributing Writer
Florida State University College of Medicine
Matthew is currently a fourth year medical student at FSU. His submitted content is narrative medicine describing the experiences of himself and his peers. Matthew continues to explore writing while hoping that his unbridled perspective will promote an internal sense of validity among his readers.
