Contributing Writer
Florida International University Herbert Wertheim College of Medicine
Austin Guerrina is a third-year medical student at Florida International University Herbert Wertheim College of Medicine in the vibrant city of Miami, Florida. Passionate about the field of physical medicine and rehabilitation, Austin envisions a career dedicated to collaborating with patients to enhance their overall health, encompassing physical, mental, and emotional well-being.
On September 29, 2021, my world started to unravel. My first anatomy lab as a medical student had just begun. I stepped foot in the cadaver lab where the pungent odor of formaldehyde clung to the air, and I was overflowing with eagerness.
Within the first week, the excitement I felt at my white coat ceremony quickly faded as I became overwhelmed and fell behind. Even with seemingly endless hours of studying, I was still doing poorly. I was exhausted every day and neglecting my well-being. For the first time in my life, my hard work was not paying off.
…what remains is the removal of the layered white shroud: the only barrier standing between two humans — one dead and the other alive.
As a person still learning to manage grief, I have to remind myself that perfection doesn’t exist in our loved ones either. We are all imperfect beings, but the best we can do is try, believe in ourselves and tell some stupid jokes along the way.
Alone in her chart stands a telehealth appointment from seven weeks ago. June disclosed a positive at-home pregnancy test. She asked about establishing care and family planning options. Just as I notice her three prior cancellations, her name flashes: Arrived.
You were worried the year would be difficult, you didn’t know how to live months on end without seeing or hugging family and didn’t know how you would meet and talk to 230 people in your class (and no, you still haven’t, but at least you might know 70%).
I could feel my right lower leg starting to bend. And bend. And bend for an eternity before I finally hit the turf. Then, my only view through the bars of my helmet were the Friday night lights against the Friday night sky.
As a 17-year-old fresh out of emergency medical technician (EMT) training, I was eager to complete my first ambulance call. The thought of rushing to someone’s rescue excited me. In fact, providing immediate, lifesaving care is what drew me to become an EMT in the first place.
In my second year of medical school, amidst the frequent exams and impending doom of third year rotations, I would often look forward to Tuesday nights. On these nights, students and residents would come together to play pick-up basketball at a local gym, removed from the stresses of medical school.
My decision to return to school to pursue a doctorate degree in medicine came as a shock to many.
I was not happy when I was accepted to medical school, not like I thought I would be. In the hours and days that followed that fateful email, feelings of shock, sadness and nervousness jostled for dominance in my mind as I processed the information.
The instant I activated my phone, it rang. I steadied my microphone and saw 34 callers in the queue. “COVID-19 hotline,” I answered.
Contributing Writer
University of Miami
Marcus Castillo is originally from Miami, FL. He received his BFA from NYU and his MFA from Stony Brook University. He is currently a fourth year medical student at the University of Miami and is interested in emergency medicine.
