Off the Shelf is our section for creative works by medical students.
Contributing Writer
UCLA David Geffen School of Medicine
Harika Kottakota is a medical student at the UCLA David Geffen School of Medicine in Los Angeles, California, class of 2025. In 2020, she graduated from Stanford University with a Bachelors of Science in Biology with Interdisciplinary Honors in Science, Technology, and Society. She has published her poetry both online and in print, including Pager Publications (forthcoming 2024), Los Angeles Global Health Conference (April 2024), Pegasus Physician Writers Press (2022) and American Medical Women’s Association (2021). She enjoys hiking, watching movies, reading historical fiction, comedy shows and finding the best coffee spots in town. In the future, Harika plans to pursue a career in pediatric neurology.
– a spoken word piece dedicated to the generous donors and their families of the Donor Body Program at UCLA David Geffen School of Medicine The air grows heavy from bearing the weight of all our questions and our intentions to learn, to transform into the healers we’ve sworn to become. So often, I stand where the sun’s rays and fluorescent bulbs meld together. Where sounds renounce harmony – with papers rustling, and steel …
Waiting in the snow for the 43, Mind focused on the cold. The bitter wind, the bus kneeling Propelled me into the warm blue and yellow interior But the driver told me Wait, I let the elderly off first And I waited, Thanked her for her thoughtfulness, Shared the weather sentiment, And sat. My husband won’t turn up the heat at home, she said. But I’ve always been cold. I caught her eye …
Murmur. Murmur. A dull, swirling sound that seems a mile away reaches my ears as they roll me through the endless hallway. A multitude of eyes are on me and mouths move in a flurry but my focus is on the weight in my chest. My senses dissolve as I am crushed from the inside. Murmur. Murmur. I hear the faint beeps of the machines, I assume, as I drift in and out of consciousness. …
My patient sleeps peacefully. I wake him guiltily. I don’t want my face to be the first he sees. We love you, Pop-Pop, the whiteboard reads. No code, the chart reads. Later the neurology attending hurriedly packs his case reflex hammer flying. My wife went into labor He says. I’ve got to get going. I sit, in the empty conference room, feeling something a little like joy, a little like loss. The presentation about gait …
Focus on breathing. Don’t think about how you’d rather be doing anything else on the planet right now. Focus on breathing. Quit reciting the pathophysiology of those diseases you got wrong on last week’s quiz. You’re thinking in circles, stop it. But if I tell myself not to think about something, doesn’t that mean I’m already thinking about it? Clearly my internal dialogue and I need some space from each other. Unfortunately, when you’re on …
It started at the age of five. Fair and Lovely — India’s favorite skin-lightening and beautifying cream. I owe this regimen my first memorable medical concern; a rash that angered the skin on my face to scar over redden, burn and peel. I hid indoors for two days, embarrassed for others to see me in public. When the reaction subsided, I remained embarrassed of what stayed — the same ugly dirty brown skin. When I …
When I told my aunt I was going to medical school, she looked me up and down and said, “So you’re going to be a know-it-all.”
As you search your closet / For your scrub cap, / Stethoscope, / And pants,
I am moving, yet I am going nowhere. I am going nowhere, yet I have come a long way. I do not count how many go by, but each spin demands that I keep moving. With every rotation, I take another step, another leap, one jump on this Earth. These cycles fly by, so much so that I can almost hear them as they whoosh over my head in an instant, making seconds go slow.
A bag full of dreams was all my mind possessed, / To leave my mark on the turbulent sands of time and be respected,
Finally, it’s been three months since // He and I were strangers with bad blood, / breathless in bed, / discussing the acts of giving and / receiving as indulgences, / mulling over our motivations and / the contraindications for / charity.
I start the day like most of us do: stimulating the needy vessels we call bodies with caffeine. As I open up my coffee jar to dispense ground Turkish coffee beans, I am met with a hint of loving bitterness. It carries a comforting brown sugar warmth that often stirs a sense of weakness given my inherent dependency on this substance but also commands secure boldness through notes of molasses and dark chocolate.
Contributing Writer
Medical College of Wisconsin
Abdullah is a medical student at the Medical College of Wisconsin in Milwaukee, WI, Class of 2027. In 2022, he graduated from The Pennsylvania State University with a Bachelor of Science in Biology and Neuroscience and a minor in Arabic. He enjoys cooking, traveling, and cafe hopping. After graduating medical school, Abdullah is planning on pursuing a surgical career in the fight against cancer.
