Short
Chief complaint: arm pain, / Waiting in room 4. / As I enter, he looks me up and down — / What is it he’s looking for?
Off the Shelf is our section for creative works by medical students.
Chief complaint: arm pain, / Waiting in room 4. / As I enter, he looks me up and down — / What is it he’s looking for?
A first-year medical student’s stress and anxiety begin to take physical form as she navigates her first year of medical school.
A scalpel, a corpse — / His beard is neat, his eyes are / Empty. Gloves hide clammy hands / Afraid of what awaits beneath
You call me on a Thursday to tell me / You were diagnosed with leukemia in October.
Investigate. / Deeper, / deeper, / deeper: / To a depth of understanding beyond understanding.
I sit in the classroom, / staring blankly at the wall. / The professor has gone off once again, / regaling a story of some elderly patient’s fall.
Never committed a crime, / but now I feel like a prisoner. / Trapped in our minds, / our spirits leashed, / our existence wanders among these all too familiar walls.
One inch more than the measure of me, and one inch less than that of my father. It’s been a while since I lined up, back to back. But if I did, the space between us would only read two inches. Maybe less now that he is older. Nearly sixty. Closer to the next decade than the last.
Wake up a 5:00 a.m., / Cannot afford to be late. / It’s my first day of preclinical shadowing, / I want my first impression to be great.
I didn’t know / many can’t / sip coral pulpy bitter / juice from narrow glasses.
A loud cry as we enter the world. / A silent cry as we depart.
We’re overloaded with so much advice, so many ideas on how to be a better doctor, / how do we decide what to follow and what to ignore?