Deeper than its captivating shape / lies a greater purpose.
So, one way or another / I keep craning my neck / Looking up.
I’ve thought about this for quite a while: / How much I owe to just a smile.
We all earn our way here / Paid in hours of studying / and minutes of fun lost.
“Eager and enthusiastic” / As I drag myself from bed. / “Positive energy” / Do you have an injury to your head?
I float in an ocean of sterile cerulean. / In this deep of drapery and gowns, / One could swim out and never see the shore.
I am waiting for my coffee when / a middle-aged Turkish man / asks if I am a medical student
When the love of my life started medical school, I knew she would need all of my support to get through it. I knew this because she told me.
5:37 a.m. in hospital scrubs / Just a few minutes with each patient.
And now here she was, in the family lounge at a hospital waiting to speak to her father’s neurologist. Her dad, Ricky, had collapsed at work — or so she had been told. This was the most she had heard of her father’s life since she moved out of the house.
They say you’re at the top of the class / I say I’m barely able to pass
Dr. Goodly saw patients on Thanksgiving every year. Wasn’t that the whole point of the holiday?