Writer-in-Training
Queen's University School of Medicine
Maggie Hulbert is a third year medical student at Queen's University School of Medicine in Kingston, Canada. In 2015, she graduated from Queen's University with a Bachelor of Science in life sciences. She is an active member of the medical humanities community and spent this past year developing the first Jacalyn Duffin Health and Humanities Conference. Her favorite writers include Danielle Ofri, Roxane Gay, and Samantha Irby. After graduating medical school, Maggie would like to pursue a career in Psychiatry.
If you come into the hospital room before she arrives, you might miss the telltale signs of her existence. They are subtle — a soft sweater thrown over a chair for those drafty hospital wards or an absurdly expensive vegetable tray from the café downstairs on the patient’s table.
One thing bothers me: / Books are most of what we see. / Doctor-patient relationship — / Only mentioned in them, flip by flip.
If a provider cannot understand their patient, they are unable to treat them. Likewise, if a patient cannot understand their provider, how can they possibly adhere to their medical advice? “Getting by” is not enough; patients are entitled to someone who speaks their language, no matter how rare.
A glimpse into today’s media is enough to understand the general attitude of modern medicine and health care. While the majority of the population regards scientific progress as a blessing, a not-so-small minority is fearful of how this will negatively impact their health.
For Dr. Francois Luks, the pen is mightier than the sword. Armed with ink and a blank pad of paper, he begins to draw out a stomach. With a stroke here and some shading there, he deftly sketches the anastomoses of a procedural resection.
She and I experienced such extremes of strangerhood and intimacy in only 72 hours. But what a privilege it was, to be there for her when she had no one else, to advocate for her, to go a little (or a lot) above and beyond on her behalf, to see the inter-workings of this stranger’s life: this is why I chose medicine.
It was a Wednesday morning. The air was crisp. The sun graced us with brilliance. I made my way to the emergency room where I was working for a two-week period on the cardiology consult service.
It’s 1 a.m., everyone’s running on three cups of coffee / When a man stumbles through the entrance / And I could hear whispers of / It’s him, the homeless man, back in the ER again
To physicians, hospice frequently symbolizes defeat. Referring a patient to hospice care can feel like admitting that disease has defeated years of training. In medical school, we are trained that the role of the doctor is to fight the disease and find the cure.
During the team huddle I was assigned to Room 403, Bed 1. “There is a lot you can learn from this patient. You should see him.” I got the one liner and was off.
A pair of Navy socks on pale, scrawny legs — that’s what I remember about him. 0300 hours in the ED and the umpteenth “What brings you in tonight, sir?” and suddenly all the patients start to meld together.
Most of us enter medical school with a desire to affect change for our patients in meaningful and positive ways. Despite being aware of the impossibility of achieving this dream in every case, we hope to provide our patients with definitive diagnoses and successful treatment plans.
Contributing Writer
Wayne State University School of Medicine
Tabitha Moses is a fifth-year MD/PhD Candidate at Wayne State University School of Medicine. She grew up in England and moved to Baltimore to complete her B.A in Cognitive Science and Philosophy and M.S. in Biotechnology at Johns Hopkins University. She is passionate about policy and advocating for her patients. She is currently working on her PhD in Translational Neuroscience focusing on the effects of stress on people with opioid use disorder as well as working to improve addiction medicine education. After graduating medical school, she would like to pursue a career as a physician-scientist in addiction psychiatry.
