Contributing Writer
Florida International University Herbert Wertheim College of Medicine
Merlin is a medical student at Florida International University Herbert Wertheim College of Medicine in Miami, FL class of 2025. In 2020, she graduated from Florida International University with a Bachelor of Science in biology and Bachelor of Science in natural and applied sciences. She enjoys traveling, dancing, spending time with her family, and camping in her free time. After graduating medical school, Merlin would like to pursue a career in anesthesiology.
As the hands of the large clock on the wall turn to 8 a.m, a wandering medical student strolls through the intricate hallways of the pediatric intensive care unit (PICU) at Nicklaus Children’s Hospital. Her eyesight shifted to various places in the unit as she struggled to find the so-called “fishbowl,” an office space where residents station themselves to work. After walking past the various rooms a few times, she was finally able to meet …
On September 29, 2021, my world started to unravel. My first anatomy lab as a medical student had just begun. I stepped foot in the cadaver lab where the pungent odor of formaldehyde clung to the air, and I was overflowing with eagerness.
Throughout the COVID-19 pandemic, I kept myself sane by writing “Notes from the 13th Floor” — a series of moments I wished I could share with the outside world and the kind I never wanted to forget.
As a person still learning to manage grief, I have to remind myself that perfection doesn’t exist in our loved ones either. We are all imperfect beings, but the best we can do is try, believe in ourselves and tell some stupid jokes along the way.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” / She keeps repeating herself.
What does it mean to “grieve appropriately?” / To silently cry / as to not break the fragility in the air.
A classmate of mine committed suicide a few weeks ago. Though I’ve heard the harrowing statistics about physician and trainee suicide rates, to be honest, I never expected to personally encounter such a tragedy. The small classes at my medical school allow for a strong sense of community in which we all know each other, celebrate important life milestones, and happily reconnect when we’re together after clinical rotations scatter us throughout the hospital.
“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.
There is no sound / like that of a heart breaking.
I had felt strange during the week leading up to the last ultrasound. Pregnancy is a roller coaster of sensations, but that week had been off a little. I barely noticed the ultrasound tech rubbing the cold, blue gel on my massive belly. I wanted to hear that sound: that quiet, pulsing sound of my baby racing to be born.
a nightingale knows best. / her call comes forth / as the daylight dwindles, / and, listen… i hear her now.
Today was not sunny, but today James got to go outside. James is seven years old. Today, he was allowed to drink ginger ale. He’s never been allowed to drink what he wants. He hasn’t left the hospital in weeks. Since James was born, he has had an array of complications. He’s suffered numerous heart attacks, a nearly fatal hemorrhage, a stroke, renal failure, and has lived most of his life on dialysis. His doctors have tried heroic measures “to …
Contributing Writer
Eastern Virginia Medical School
I am an MD candidate in the Class of 2017 with an interest in primary care and underserved populations.
