Off the Shelf is our section for creative works by medical students.
Witnessing the first breath of life, the last before death, “You are cancer free!”, “The cancer has returned,” “Congratulations, you are pregnant!,” “I am so sorry, but there is no longer a heartbeat,” The scream of a mother echoing down the hallway as she brings new life into the world, the scream as she watches her child depart it, Tears of joy in one patient’s room as their scan was clear, tears of sorrow in …
Foreign Bodies (Berries) Veronica Gibbons (2026) acrylic on paper This painting reminds us that beneath every incision is a unique individual, shaped by experiences that cannot be standardized. Medicine is inherently unpredictable, and while training emphasizes mastery of uniform knowledge, that focus can shift attention toward efficiency, performance, and personal progress. The unexpected blueberries disrupt this mindset, highlighting that while anatomy may be shared, each patient is different. The piece underscores the responsibility to stay …
It began with a list. Not of medication or interventions, but of what we needed to prepare my grandmother for burial. In the seven-by-ten-foot room tucked behind the prayer hall, there were no beeping monitors, and no nurses rushing to check vitals. Instead, bathroom tiles were beneath our feet, a floor drain at the center and a shelf filled with supplies. I could hear the faucet dripping in the back, almost rhythmic, like a slow …
It, in fact, hit me like a wall. As I pushed past mile 20 in my first marathon, I felt the notorious ‘wall’. My glycogen stores were depleted, and my legs felt like they were no longer part of my body, but rather two 40 pound dumbbells I was lifting and dropping on the hard pavement with each step forward. Most distance runners would break down a marathon as a two-part race: cruising for the …
In halls of sterile light and steel, Where pulses echo, hearts to heal, A quiet truth begins to rise— Care can’t be measured by device. For every chart, each test result, There lies a gap, a hidden fault, Where voices lost, unheard, remain— A silent burden wrapped in pain. From city streets to rural lanes, Health divides in unseen chains, A mother waits, her voice denied, As walls of care grow far and …
Septic shock. Liver failure. Kidney cancer.
There is nothing quite like the feeling of puncturing the thin shrink film around a new canvas. Getting ready to paint is a routine — the rumbling of the kettle as I thumb through my collection of teas, picking the perfect album to play on repeat for the evening. Putting on the highlighter yellow shirt from high school plastered with smudges of blacks, greens, and whites from years of previous paintings.
I do not know what to say or feel when I first meet you. My first instinct is to introduce myself, but you can neither hear me nor reply.
“Your time starts now. You may begin your examination.” These were the words said moments before a life-altering moment during my high school years.
I sit, staring at my color-coded diagram of the nephron, trying to ignore the texts lighting up my phone screen. “Okay, furosemide works on the Loop of Henle. Furosemide’s brand name is Lasix, so I’ll remember L for Loop,” I mutter to myself.
A spoken word piece dedicated to the generous donors and their families of the Donor Body Program at the UCLA David Geffen School of Medicine.
Waiting in the snow for the 43, / Mind focused on the cold. / The bitter wind, the bus kneeling
Contributing Writer
Tufts University School of Medicine
Zoë is an MD/MPH student at Tufts University School of Medicine in Boston, Massachusetts class of 2025. In 2018, she graduated from Brown University with a Bachelor of Arts in public health and the history of medicine. She enjoys baking bread, doing yoga, and reading novels in her free time. After graduating medical school, Zoë would like to pursue a career in internal medicine, working at the intersection of medicine and public health to address the impact of the climate crisis on health.
