Pathology of the Med Student
Stamina waning / Along with my patience / For the number of patients / Presenting with an emesis of symptoms
Stamina waning / Along with my patience / For the number of patients / Presenting with an emesis of symptoms
For the majority of medical students, gross anatomy is the first time that we observe and cut into the flesh of preserved cadavers. Whether it is through a longitudinal year-round program or a semester’s worth of concentrated anatomy, most of us develop a unique relationship with the cadaver gifted to us by generous donors.
How can doctors-in-training support patients and colleagues who are transgender? Olivia, a third-year medical student in Chicago pursuing a career in facial reconstructive surgery, transitioned from male to female while she was applying to medical school. As one of the few openly trans medical students in the country, she speaks about the stereotypes and logistical challenges trans people confront in medicine. Olivia aspires to use her own experiences as a trans person in the medical system – as both consumer and provider – to positively impact others in similar positions.
In honor of National Breast Cancer Awareness Month, this piece celebrates the female form and the metaphor of nature as it relates to revival. Special attention was given to the flora, specifically the flower gladiolus, which can be said to symbolize strength. The use of pink, while a nod to the familiar campaign color, evokes a mood of optimism and hope.
The loudest sound I heard was neither the punctuated laughter of youthful teenagers nor the whispered voices of lovers holding hands, but the wind.
As a newly-minted third-year medical student, I’m now reaching the point where I finally have to decide what I want to be “when I grow up.” (I use that term very loosely since I’m in my late 20s, have spent 23 years of my life in school, and already have one doctorate degree). Which areas of medicine should I pursue? Do I want my future practice to be clinically-oriented, research-oriented, academically-oriented or all of the above?
Most medical students understand the preclinical years barely resemble anything they will encounter for the remainder of their professional careers. Beginning in the third year, learning is done in the hospitals and the clinics, and is no longer confined to the classrooms and laboratories. During this time, many of us will be thrust into the middle of a complex network of relationships between physicians, nurses, staff, administrators and patients. Our relationship with these various groups is often well-defined. There is, however, a hospital presence that we get little to no information regarding: health industry representatives.
My dad taught me how to swing a golf club at an early age. No, not with the overbearing exactitude of an Earl Dennison Woods. Robert Mooney Jr., a brilliant emergency physician with a respectable high school swimming career, never wished to live vicariously through my future sporting exploits. Perhaps having personally authored the genetics of scrawny paleness into my genetic constitution, he knew a losing battle when he saw one.
As I settle into my second year of medical school, I’m confronted with the fact that I’m one-fourth of the way to an M.D. — that an entire year has passed, and unsurprisingly, all those predictions my deans made at the very beginning came to pass: time flew, we learned more than we thought we ever could, and upon close self-examination, we’re very different from how we were this time last year.
The President of the United States of America cannot be a Muslim. This was the message Republican presidential candidate Ben Carson relayed on national television last week. Carson, who afterwards surged in the polls and saw spikes in campaign donations, went on to add that the religion of Islam is also “unconstitutional” — thus blatantly smearing and demonizing the nearly seven million Americans who identify as Muslims with words that were discriminatory, inflammatory and, somewhat ironically, unconstitutional.
I was sitting in class on Tuesday, October 6, when one of my friends showed me a link about a local college that was under lockdown, as we often do with current events. But this time, after seeing the message, I felt my stomach sink. My heart was in my throat. My mind instantly flooded with thoughts. Did my mom go to work this morning? Was she teaching today? I hadn’t heard from her since last night. The school was the Community College of Philadelphia (CCP).
Please say / ninety-nine, / No not like / that, say it