Contributing Writer
Albany Medical College
Marc is a fourth-year medical student at Albany Medical College in Albany, New York in the Class of 2023 pursuing a career in internal medicine. In 2019, he graduated from Union College as Salutatorian with a Bachelor of Science in economics and biology. He also holds an MBA in Healthcare Management from Clarkson University. Marc enjoys writing poetry, reading, and exploring local restaurants. In the future, Marc hopes to intertwine his medical training with his business experiences to improve the management of chronic diseases.
The incidence of chronic disease is strongly correlated with aging. According to the Information Theory of Aging, aging results from a progressive loss of genetic material due to gradually worsening cellular repair mechanisms. This cellular erosion leads to a nearly interminable list of diseases, including but certainly not limited to cancer, heart disease and neurodegenerative disease.
Allowing natural death gives the elderly and terminally ill the opportunity to control the end of their life, providing empowerment and a sense of peace during their time of uncertainty. This patient and her family’s forethought allowed us to provide medications to ease her pain and discomfort. When she closed her eyes for the last time, her body relaxed into the sheets, and I pulled the blanket up to her shoulders. Her family said goodbye, and then I began to perform post-mortem care.
They did not want to disclose that I was dying. Out of respect for my family’s wishes, my cultural values and ultimately myself. But they forgot to respect my right to know, my right to choose which way to go, my right to see tomorrow and the fading of the sunset glow.
“There’s a great neuro exam in room 5147,” my resident said as I dropped my bag in the call room. “Why don’t you go check it out?” I clutched my reflex hammer in one hand and googled the components of a neuro exam with the other as I headed towards the stairwell.
Gloves first, then scalpel blades gathered, / instructor books and an atlas. / What yearning and churning my mind feels, / unsure what learning to expect.
A hospital bed rolled in. It was Marvin. His last walk. On rounds we would say, “Twenty-two-year-old with gunshot wound to the head. Waiting for organ donation.”
After hours of struggle, noise, / knife and clamp and lung flapping wetly / like a broken bird wing in an open chest, / there is this part, the dismantling.
“We kept him alive to let his family say goodbye, / and sometimes that’s the biggest victory.”
Telemedicine should never replace in-person care, especially in the patient-centric hospice environment, but when used appropriately it can provide benefits not found in any other care environment.
“Time of death: 12:26 p.m.” Hearing those words on the first day of my Intensive Care Unit (ICU) rotation was surreal when just a few hours ago we were discussing the patient’s status during rounds.
You tell me you’d like to be an engineer one day. You hesitate after the words “one day,” like you’re reconsidering the phrase. I want to tell you not to, but I can’t find the words.
Like an early Sunday morning in New York City or a football stadium the night before a game, it is a hospital on a holiday weekend. This is my first experience of how quickly peace can burst into bedlam in medicine.
Contributing Writer
Wayne State University School of Medicine
Matthew is a third year medical student at Wayne State University School of Medicine. After graduating from the University of Michigan with a Bachelor of Science in Neuroscience in 2016, he spent one year in New York City before enrolling in medical school. He is an avid sports fan and enjoys spending time hiking and camping. If you cannot find him in the hospital, sports stadiums, or outdoors, he is likely at the local ice cream parlor.
