A Letter to Pipo
It will soon be over seven years since the last time I saw you. It feels like yesterday we were singing along to your favorite song as you drove me to my weekly dance class.
Tag: death and dying
Contributing Writer
Florida International University Herbert Wertheim College of Medicine
Natalie Mesa is a medical student at Florida International University Herbert Wertheim College of Medicine in Miami, Florida, Class of 2025. In 2019, she graduated from Florida International University with a Bachelor of Science in biology and natural and applied sciences with a minor in psychology. She graduated from the Honors College and Summa cum laude. She enjoys running, traveling and reading in her free time. After graduating medical school, Natalie would like to pursue a career in General Surgery.
A Sacred Symphony
The once-sterile hospital room had become a sacred space, where the raw emotions of love and loss hung in the air. The young daughter, vibrant in her essence but tethered to life support, teetered on the precipice between existence and the inevitable.
Beneath the Shroud
…what remains is the removal of the layered white shroud: the only barrier standing between two humans — one dead and the other alive.
Passed Tense
I wasn’t expecting the morning report. / I wasn’t expecting to see images, / The death, the blood, the open eyes, / the open hands grasping at someone / long gone. Bullets buried deep.
Deceased Note: Facing Death as a Medical Student
I opened their chart and scrolled to the recent notes section. A new title I had never seen before popped on the screen. There, at the top of the chart, “Deceased Note” was written in bold letters.
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.
I’ll Call Her Tiffany
Pink playdough littered the exam table, sink, counter and floor. In a flash, a thin child, all elbows and knees, jumped athletically from the sink counter to the exam table and then to the floor, stomping over my feet in the process.
Sensing The Emergency Department
“Three, two, one … lift,” the circulating nurse directs as I raise the patient’s feet from the trauma table onto the recovery bed, gushing with the giddiness of getting to use my hands in a medical setting for the first time.
To Grieve Appropriately
What does it mean to “grieve appropriately?” / To silently cry / as to not break the fragility in the air.
Meditations on Mortality
One of the most powerful paradoxes of medical education is that we learn how to heal the living by dissecting the dead. Our cadavers house the beauty and intricacies of human creation, the distinctiveness yet commonality of each human body and the finality of decline.
Air Hunger
His diseased lungs / stiff like dry clay / function like gills out of the water.
Dying Is Not
Dying is not / as romantic as I once thought. / I think you always knew this.
Contributing Writer
Loyola’s Stritch School of Medicine
Anneka Johnston grew up in West Michigan and attended Kenyon College, majoring in English with a special certification in creative writing, and minoring in chemistry. Continuing her lifelong commitment to avoid sunny weather, Anneka moved to Chicago following graduation, and worked in a Suboxone clinic at the height of Chicago’s opioid epidemic. She began searching for the common ground between medicine and the humanities, and became passionate about giving voice to patient experiences through narrative art. She received second place in the 2022 DeBakey Poetry Contest and third place in the 2022 William Carlos William Poetry Competition. She is currently a fourth-year student at Loyola’s Stritch School of Medicine and plans to pursue a career in psychiatry.