Contributing Writer Emeritus
University of Texas Medical Branch
Amara Uzoma-Uzo is a Class of 2015 medical student at the University of Texas Medical Branch. She is a Nigerian-American and is proud and privileged to call both Nigeria and the United States home. She enjoys poetry, spoken word, reading, writing, fashion, dancing, singing, tutoring kids and spending time with family and friends. She is happy to be a member of the in-Training community.
“This can be a depressing specialty at times; we laugh to stay sane,” my attending explained as I stared in dismay at the cackling residents and faculty after one of them made a rude comment about their patient. This was the first day of my rotation on this service and I was very disappointed. Still brimming with the ideals of professionalism taught in the first two years of medical school, the scenario I witnessed seemed …
Doing a sub-internship in the ICU is, well, intense. On the first day, I was completely overwhelmed by seeing so many sick patients, most of whom were sedated, ventilated, and on at least one pressor. In just a few weeks, this came to seem perfectly normal. However, what continued to stir me were the extreme emotions I saw patients and their families experiencing. I couldn’t help but feel those emotions myself. The most difficult day—thankfully …
Sunday, 8 p.m. What started as valiant efforts of creating new recipes turned out to be embarrassing failures in judgment and common sense. Initially, I thought mixing tofu, some greens and pasta would turn out to be an Asian delicacy, maybe something that I could proudly share with friends and family. But, after adding one spice to another, topping sauce over sauce, I realized that it was over. It was time to call it an …
May – Bright-eyed and fresh from the books, I start my first rotation on internal medicine. I stay at the hospital until 11 p.m. to get a good history of my first patient. It is three pages long. I come in on weekends to practice writing notes. I find out that a patient is witness to child abuse and file a mandatory report. I pat myself on the back. My intern pats me on the …
Moving across the country to attend medical school left me without a fridge that was magically full of Russian salads, homemade breads and grilled goodies. This magic was never much of a rainbow. It was domineered by the deep purplish-red of cooked beets. Despite their sweet and hearty favor, I didn’t want my kitchen, cloths and fingers to turn into a heavy and semi-permanent shade of faded purple. I began to grocery shop like a …
After a late night out the Friday before Halloween, a long run in the morning and the scent of pad thai on Newbury Street in the afternoon, I came home craving brown rice in peanut sauce. I stood in the doorway and thought about the biology of food cravings, but quickly snapped out of it to scrounge my cupboards for ingredients. I aspire to cook without (printed) recipes like my mom does, so here was …
Well ladies and gents, it is that time of year again. The temperatures are getting cooler, the leaves are falling off the trees, and for thousands of fourth-year medical students, myself included, it is residency application and interview season. Fourth year year is a special time for all medical students. It means we are but mere months from achieving those oh-so-special added letters at the end of our names. It means no longer introducing yourself …
Into the room I hear him come. Above me, his head appears. Then, with blue plastic hands and a dangling toy, he starts poking at me. He lays his hands on my head, then wipes the goop from my face. He shines a light in my eyes and then in my mouth. He prods my neck, then holds the dangling toy against my chest—first here, then there, and listens. He squishes my belly, flips me on …
Medicine is difficult. It’s not that the road starts years in advance of medical school, taking difficult premedical courses, volunteering at hospitals or emergency services. It’s not the notorious competition and stress of simply being accepted to training. It’s not the life-consuming monster of training itself.
As medical students and soon-to-be future physicians, we are taught to be hopeful when it comes to our patients. We smile; we comfort. We tell patients to put their trust in us because we believe we can cure them. We not only heal with our hands, but also with our words—reassuring when there is doubt, bearing a beacon of light when there is darkness. But what happens when that hope fails to illuminate, and our …
To the man with flowers that I met on my way out of the ICU: You came up to me and told me how grateful you were to all of the doctors in this place, for how well they treated you and your wife. You were holding bright red, maybe pink and yellow flowers with gold ribbon in clear wrap. You had grey hair and a kind smile. I said something like, “That’s so wonderful, …
I quickly became acquainted with the practice of orthopedics during my childhood, as various boyish and overly rambunctious pursuits left me with over a dozen broken bones. Each break was relatively innocuous, at most fixed with some pinning; however, I became instantly aware of the gravity of orthopedic injury when my father broke his back on New Year’s Eve 2002. I was 14, and he was driving me to a friend’s house when we were …
Contributing Writer Emeritus
University of Texas Southwestern Medical School
Max is a Class of 2014 student at the University of Texas Southwestern Medical School.
