Hypertension Follow-Up
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” / She keeps repeating herself.
Poetry Thursdays
Poetry Thursdays is our initiative to highlight poetry and prose by medical students, with a new post every Thursday. If you are interested in contributing or would like to learn more, please contact our editors.
Contributing Writer
UNC Chapel Hill School of Medicine
Habiba Ahmed is a medical student at UNC Chapel Hill SOM interested in going into pediatrics! She attended the University of Kentucky for undergrad, where she obtained a B.S. in neuroscience. She is passionate about kiddos, advocacy, equity and inclusion, social justice, narrative medicine, patient-centered care, and a good iced latte. She also loves singing and doing henna tattoos!
Awfully Nice
Tears in her eyes / Puddles in a funnel of wrinkles / She fingers her golden ring
Mirror
It is a snowy day in April / The three of us each sit at our own windows and watch the remainder of our winters, / She says it came out of nowhere. / She means the snow maybe, or the Dementia.
A Subset of Innumerable Thoughts and Observations
I quickly realized, they allow the inner recesses of my soul to connect with my imagination, together spewing forth a wonderful concoction of syllables, metaphors and outright madness on dozens of sticky notes
Heart Failure
he sits on the edge of the bed, forlorn – / eyes squeezed shut, back hunched over. / the veins snaking up his arms seem / translucent as he clenches the bed rail / in a death grip.
Tap, Reflex
Touch, pinch. Move, shift. Tap, reflex.
Musings on Nature and Being
The fault, however, doesn’t lie on me alone. / I’m but a product of the American diet and the capitalistic moan.
On Rounds
Because I could not stop for death, / He kindly asked I pause. / My arms were full of sterile wraps, / Scissors, tape, and gauze.
MD-to-be
With imposter syndrome raging,/ I sit quietly at my desk,/ reflect on goals for my future/ and what it means to do my best.
Worried Well
One step and then another; / the end is near! The end is nearly here! / And yet, it is not. Not yet near. / So, I carry on, though I am weary, / though my telomeres shorten or because my telomeres shorten,
Critical Senses
Do you hear what I hear? / The humming of machines, / which can’t breathe, / but enable artificial ventilation for living beings.
To Grieve Appropriately
What does it mean to “grieve appropriately?” / To silently cry / as to not break the fragility in the air.
Contributing Writer
Mayo Clinic Alix School of Medicine
Jessica is a third year MD/PhD student at Mayo Clinic Alix School of Medicine in Rochester, MN class of 2028 (hopefully). In 2020, she graduated from Rice University with a Bachelor of Science in biochemistry and cell biology with a minor in medical humanities. She enjoys trying new recipes, working out with friends, and exploring the city one restaurant at a time in her free time. After graduating, Jessica would like to pursue a career as a physician-scientist at an academic center.
