Contributing Writer
Florida State University
Parastou “Mandy” Shahzeidi is a third-year medical student at Florida State University College of Medicine in Tallahassee, FL class of 2024. She graduated from Florida State University with a Bachelor of Science in chemical/biomedical engineering and studied interdisciplinary engineering coursework at Purdue University afterwards. In her free time, she enjoys pickleball, meditation and wearing down her two rambunctious Italian Greyhounds. After graduating medical school, Mandy would like to pursue a career in Internal Medicine with an emphasis on global health and community outreach.
It was the first day of my inpatient internal medicine rotation and I felt as excited as ever to be in the hospital, participating in rounds. “How’s your day going?” I asked automatically in a cheery tone as I entered my first patient’s room.
I work with four other medical students at the family medicine clinic. I am the only female medical student — our attending is also male.
Many people told me that my third year of medical school would be both the most rewarding and the most difficult. That I would choose my future specialty and discover my specific path in medicine — a task which, as I began the year, seemed both exciting and daunting. Little did I know that during my third year of medical school, I would learn just as much about myself as I would about patient care and the practice of medicine.
His hands were shaking as they gently peeled open a tattered envelope. I leaned forward, attempting to understand what he was trying to show us, then gasped.
When my family saw me painstakingly hand-placing individual sprinkles on the apices of buttercream rosettes at age 15, I justified this obsessive behavior by telling them, “I’m just practicing precision for the day when I get to inject into people’s faces.”
Mr. G was a patient I met while on the surgical oncology service. He was in his early 50s, a loving husband and the father of two children. He was the middle sibling with two brothers. He also battled metastatic cancer.
During the last week of my clinical rotation in family medicine, my attending advised me and the accompanying medical student that going forward, the health providers of the clinic must limit their scope of care for patients who present for annual examinations.
This period of healing set Lori on a long road that was paved with pain. She lived in chronic pain from the fistula. While her physicians delicately weighed her safety with pain relief, she learned to balance both patience and uncertainty.
Logan’s healing was in his death. Mine was in a game of Monopoly.
As a high school volunteer in my local hospital’s oncology unit, I remember the sinking feeling in my stomach every time I saw the bright “Contact Precautions” sign on the door. I would begrudgingly don a flimsy plastic gown, fix a tight surgical mask around my ears, snap on a pair of gloves and proceed into the patient’s room.
It is morning outside, the sun barely kissing the horizon. The curtains have been drawn in an attempt to force any lick of light from the room. But one slim shard cuts through the drapes, illuminating John’s face.
Like many medical students, I was vastly underprepared for the emotional turmoil that the nature of the third year of medical school can create.
Contributing Writer
Florida State University College of Medicine
Elora is a fourth-year medical student at the Florida State University College of Medicine, class of 2023. She graduated from Florida State University in 2018 with a Bachelor of Science in Exercise Physiology. She hopes to pursue a career in internal medicine and potentially pursue a fellowship in hematology-oncology. Elora enjoys being a dog step-mom, cooking, exercising, and true crime podcasts.
