Contributing Writer
Florida International University Herbert Wertheim College of Medicine
Richard is a fourth-year medical student at Florida International University Herbert Wertheim College of Medicine in Miami, FL, class of 2024. In 2019, he graduated from Florida International University with a Bachelor of Science in biological sciences and with a Bachelor of Arts in interdisciplinary studies. In 2020, he graduated from Florida State University with a Juris Masters in health care regulation. He enjoys writing poetry, indoor rock climbing, movies and baking in his free time. After graduating medical school in 2024, Richard would like to pursue a career in Neurology.
She asks me if I can speak Spanish, to which I regrettably deny, stating I can understand it well, but my ability to communicate in my mother tongue is lacking. Her eyes catch my sight, this time not projecting annoyance, but now disappointment, with her head shaking and her uttering, “That is an absolute shame. You should know how to speak Spanish. You are Hispanic and do not know Spanish? What a shame.”
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.
I would be lying if I said I remember every single patient that I have seen in the past almost two years of clinical rotations. However, each of my core rotations has become defined by one or two patients that most stood out to me.
It was the first day of my inpatient internal medicine rotation and I felt as excited as ever to be in the hospital, participating in rounds. “How’s your day going?” I asked automatically in a cheery tone as I entered my first patient’s room.
I work with four other medical students at the family medicine clinic. I am the only female medical student — our attending is also male.
His hands were shaking as they gently peeled open a tattered envelope. I leaned forward, attempting to understand what he was trying to show us, then gasped.
Mr. G was a patient I met while on the surgical oncology service. He was in his early 50s, a loving husband and the father of two children. He was the middle sibling with two brothers. He also battled metastatic cancer.
As I step carefully into the sterile field / past the rows of scalpels, forceps and clamps, / I sense a gentle fluttering in my chest.
The instant I activated my phone, it rang. I steadied my microphone and saw 34 callers in the queue. “COVID-19 hotline,” I answered.
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.
A fog of emotions blankets the waiting room / Stress and anxiety, with some impending doom.
Logan’s healing was in his death. Mine was in a game of Monopoly.
Contributing Writer
McGovern Medical School
Elisa is a fourth-year medical student graduating in 2023. In 2019, she graduated from the University of Texas at Austin with a Bachelor of Science and Arts in biochemistry. She is also pursuing a masters in public health. She enjoys playing soccer, jogging, and being with family in her free time. After graduating medical school, Elisa would like to pursue a career in pediatrics.
