Contributing Writer
Florida International University Herbert Wertheim College of Medicine
Austin Guerrina is a third-year medical student at Florida International University Herbert Wertheim College of Medicine in the vibrant city of Miami, Florida. Passionate about the field of physical medicine and rehabilitation, Austin envisions a career dedicated to collaborating with patients to enhance their overall health, encompassing physical, mental, and emotional well-being.
On September 29, 2021, my world started to unravel. My first anatomy lab as a medical student had just begun. I stepped foot in the cadaver lab where the pungent odor of formaldehyde clung to the air, and I was overflowing with eagerness.
I placed the first pill on my tongue, opened my mouth so the nurse could see, closed my mouth, swallowed the pill, and opened my mouth again so the nurse could confirm that I had swallowed it. I had to repeat this for nine more tablets and this drill continued for seven days a week and for seven more months of the treatment.
The purpose of this piece is not to assign blame, nor is it to debate the inciting event for the current state of the people in Gaza. Instead, I hope to inspire you, the reader, to set aside any political differences and to lean into your role as both a human and patient advocate. I urge you to speak up in support of our colleagues overseas, who are treating and operating under the threat of death; for history will not judge our silence kindly.
As we got closer to the ED, the excitement evolved into a feeling of discomfort. It was uncomfortable to feel even briefly excited by another person’s misfortune. I felt a sense of disequilibrium as I realized I had strayed from the delicate balance medical students and physicians continually try to find.
It will soon be over seven years since the last time I saw you. It feels like yesterday we were singing along to your favorite song as you drove me to my weekly dance class.
A bag full of dreams was all my mind possessed, / To leave my mark on the turbulent sands of time and be respected,
I first wrote to author George Saunders in my senior year of high school. Thankful for everything his writing taught me about empathy, I sought advice as I crossed the “seemingly arbitrary line into adulthood.”
Finally, it’s been three months since // He and I were strangers with bad blood, / breathless in bed, / discussing the acts of giving and / receiving as indulgences, / mulling over our motivations and / the contraindications for / charity.
I start the day like most of us do: stimulating the needy vessels we call bodies with caffeine. As I open up my coffee jar to dispense ground Turkish coffee beans, I am met with a hint of loving bitterness. It carries a comforting brown sugar warmth that often stirs a sense of weakness given my inherent dependency on this substance but also commands secure boldness through notes of molasses and dark chocolate.
this weekend / I went to the sunflower patch / swinging arms with my mom and sister / starry eyed at the fields of bright gold yellow / nestled in the blue of the mountains around us.
The once-sterile hospital room had become a sacred space, where the raw emotions of love and loss hung in the air. The young daughter, vibrant in her essence but tethered to life support, teetered on the precipice between existence and the inevitable.
“254?!” I gawk at the glucometer, stunned that Tom’s blood sugar has soared to such heights when it has consistently remained below 125 for the last two weeks. Tom glances up at me with an amused look on his face, clearly entertained by my reaction — “It was probably that pork chop that did it.”
Writers-in-Training Intern and Contributing Writer
Geisinger College of Health Sciences
Kaitlin is a medical student at Geisinger College of Health Sciences, class of 2027, interested in primary care and addiction medicine. She is from Malvern, PA and attended Northeastern University for undergrad. Outside of school, Kaitlin loves running, volunteering, cooking, reading/writing, and playing piano!
