Twelve Weeks
Dr. Perkins explained to Elizabeth that she had three options: continue with the pregnancy and parent the child, continue with the pregnancy and pursue adoption, or discontinue the pregnancy and have an abortion.
Off the Shelf is our section for creative works by medical students.
Dr. Perkins explained to Elizabeth that she had three options: continue with the pregnancy and parent the child, continue with the pregnancy and pursue adoption, or discontinue the pregnancy and have an abortion.
There is no sound / like that of a heart breaking.
This house was once full of life / Layers of warmth and affection. / A fireplace, the heart of all
If you come into the hospital room before she arrives, you might miss the telltale signs of her existence. They are subtle — a soft sweater thrown over a chair for those drafty hospital wards or an absurdly expensive vegetable tray from the café downstairs on the patient’s table.
Hearts that beat, / Turn into hearts that don’t.
Medicine is a march, but it’s not like Sherman’s to the sea. You don’t burn what you leave, and the sea is always just beyond the next hill.
A few winters ago, you called me after a ski accident and announced / “I have fractured my tibial plate.”
I had felt strange during the week leading up to the last ultrasound. Pregnancy is a roller coaster of sensations, but that week had been off a little. I barely noticed the ultrasound tech rubbing the cold, blue gel on my massive belly. I wanted to hear that sound: that quiet, pulsing sound of my baby racing to be born.
We work in a hospital / Faithfully / Like the tomato plant / Serving a garden community
Draped the head and steadied the bed / For the life-saving aneurysm clipping, / I stop thinking of my former life.
Your Smile / Wrinkles, / Where my jokes weren’t funny.
Filled with fear and pain but love and hate / To raise it alone since he never agreed