Contributing Writer
Oregon Health and Science University
Jeffrey is a third year medical student at Oregon Health and Science University in Portland, Oregon class of 2023. In 2014, he graduated from New York University with a Bachelor of Science in nursing. He worked as a registered nurse from 2014 until 2019. He enjoys gardening, mushroom farming, and spending time with his pets. After graduating medical school, Jeffrey would like to pursue a career in emergency medicine and toxicology.
At the start of my psychiatry rotation, I was most apprehensive about performing the “bread and butter” exam of the specialty: the psychiatric interview. I was not afraid of forgetting which questions to ask, but rather how to ask said questions.
She sat on her bed in a bright magenta shirt covered in glittery animals, with her arms folded tightly across her chest. Her green eyes were trained on the muted television broadcasting Disney cartoons, and her bed was strewn with coloring books and crayons. This scene looked quite different from the other overdoses we had been consulted on. Still, our attending calmly walked up to her bedside, introduced our bustling team and asked the universal question,
Nineteen. Oh the joy of being 19 years old. Can you remember back that far? Reminisce on the butterflies you felt as you waited for your date to pick you up for your very first college party.
There is a fine line between medicine and mortality: give too much and it can kill someone; give too little and even that could kill someone. We show up to the hospital with the intent to save lives, and anything that deviates from that goal is seen as a failure of the system, or, at times, of ourselves. However, over time, we come to learn that there is an in-between where we are at once trying to preserve life, all the while embracing the idea of human mortality.
During my OB/GYN rotation, one of my primary roles as a medical student was to observe and assist during labor and delivery. On one particularly memorable Friday afternoon, after we welcomed a healthy baby boy into our world, I delivered the placenta wholly intact on my own. However, while I felt satisfied with a job well done, something was dripping down my leg…
“This one is a handful. She brought a long list, too, so good luck with that,” the nurse said as she handed me the patient prep sheet. This was a new patient to the family medicine practice. I was seeing her near the end of a long day, so I took a deep breath to reset my mind as I entered the exam room, prepared to listen.
I knew she was in a difficult legal situation that was taking an emotional toll on her. After learning that she had few visitors, I asked about her depression and how she was coping. As she spoke, I could not help but think about the degree to which her social isolation was worsening her symptoms.
“I have good news for you,” my resident exclaimed as she walked into the exam room. She was holding the patient’s most recent vitals handed to her by a nurse practitioner.
My first patient with Alzheimer’s, Sheryll, led me on a journey of questions and self-growth which I had never expected. Until meeting her, I hadn’t thought extensively about how our biology may dictate cognition and free will. While my thoughts on the matter continue to develop as I broaden my clinical experience, these considerations continue to frame my understanding of my patients, myself and the world around me.
It was obvious that something was off. His mood was not what I would expect from a patient who had received a transplant, which for many patients represents a second chance at normalcy and freedom from the restrictions of dialysis. As we started our trek out of the SICU, my attending continued to tell me Mr. W’s story.
Huh? Just like that, my confidence took a nosedive. Jeff could have spoken to me in Mandarin, and I would have been no better off in understanding what he had just said. Suddenly, I felt very small in my new white coat. Rhinorrhea sounded pretty severe. How dumb would I sound if I asked Jeff how long the patient had to live? I thought.
I learned English out of necessity — not only for myself but also for my family. I grew up in Mexico and moved to a small Northern California town at the age of eight. When we moved to the United States, I was placed in an English-speaking classroom with no one who spoke Spanish. Necessity forced me to learn English quickly and, as a result, I became my family’s unofficial interpreter, including at their medical appointments.
Contributing Writer
University of California, Riverside School of Medicine
Bianka is a third-year medical student at UC Riverside School of Medicine in Riverside, CA. In 2016, she graduated from University of California-Los Angeles with a Bachelor of Science in Biology and a minor in Spanish. She enjoys visiting family, hiking, and trying out new food in her free time. After graduating from medical school, Bianka would like to pursue a career in family medicine and community health.
