HPI
good morning, i’m the medical student / i must ask how you are feeling / even though my eyes already sting
good morning, i’m the medical student / i must ask how you are feeling / even though my eyes already sting
This period of healing set Lori on a long road that was paved with pain. She lived in chronic pain from the fistula. While her physicians delicately weighed her safety with pain relief, she learned to balance both patience and uncertainty.
Logan’s healing was in his death. Mine was in a game of Monopoly.
There is a straight line from / ordering an ultrasound to obtaining / clear cylinders of red blood cells.
It is morning outside, the sun barely kissing the horizon. The curtains have been drawn in an attempt to force any lick of light from the room. But one slim shard cuts through the drapes, illuminating John’s face.
Like many medical students, I was vastly underprepared for the emotional turmoil that the nature of the third year of medical school can create.
It was my third day on my home dermatology elective, and I boldly volunteered to see a patient by myself. As a third-year medical student strongly considering dermatology for my future career, I had studied for weeks for this rotation, hoping to make an impression as a confident, knowledgeable and reliable doctor-in-training. Usually, medical students shadow for two weeks before seeing patients on their own, but I was eager to be more independent. This was my chance to demonstrate everything I was working toward.
Three knocks, no answer. “Good morning Mr. Adams!” I call as I peek into his room, flicking the lights on. I am wheeling a small, flailing tablet and it unstably spins left and right, back and forth, until I park it by my patient’s bed.
Mr. Adams had heart; I will give him that. Presenting for ankle pain, altered mental status and shortness of breath, it quickly became apparent that a far more worrisome picture was being painted with each passing day.
During my M3 rotations, I believe I have learned as much about medicine as I have about humanity. I’ve come to appreciate that to perform well in this profession, we must embrace both its scientific and human elements.
Screams. Tears. Despair. / A sense of sadness in the atmosphere.
Blue, white, red, yellow, pink, brown. These are the colors of the ties and strips of fabric around the scrub pants and tops indicating their size. At the start of medical school, I would squeeze into a red top and red pants: these were the larges.