Pre-Medical Student Writer
University of Houston
Sudharshini Prasanna is an undergraduate student at the University of Houston in Houston, Texas, Class of 2026. When she is not baking and eating all of her cookies with her dog Mowgli, she spends her time penning experiences into creative stories both real and fantastical. She carefully weaves a unique message in each of her stories in hopes that it reaches a diverse audience. Sudharshini aspires to pursue a career in orthopedics.
I placed the first pill on my tongue, opened my mouth so the nurse could see, closed my mouth, swallowed the pill, and opened my mouth again so the nurse could confirm that I had swallowed it. I had to repeat this for nine more tablets and this drill continued for seven days a week and for seven more months of the treatment.
As we got closer to the ED, the excitement evolved into a feeling of discomfort. It was uncomfortable to feel even briefly excited by another person’s misfortune. I felt a sense of disequilibrium as I realized I had strayed from the delicate balance medical students and physicians continually try to find.
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.
We are given tools to imitate their behavior, in hopes that we ourselves will one day embody that behavior. Mechanical checkboxes on the standardized exam with standardized patients. Cannot forget a single step. But life is not standardized, is it?
Skepticism of health care is widespread throughout some of these communities — rightly so due to historical mistreatment, discrimination and lack of representation along with cultural differences. This distrust may be further strengthened by a patient’s own personal experiences. I respected this wariness, but I had yet to witness it firsthand.
…what remains is the removal of the layered white shroud: the only barrier standing between two humans — one dead and the other alive.
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.
Growing up, I wanted to be an actress. It amazed me how actors could make a story seem so real and how easily I would fall in love with characters I’d known for only 90 minutes. Most of the kids in my neighborhood would play outside together, but I always wanted to stay home and watch my favorite movie, Shutter Island.
I realized that in my approach, she saw echoes of her abuser and an imbalance of power. I made sure to sit down in the chair next to her, eye level, to show her I was here to listen. No longer did I need my stethoscope. I had my most powerful tool of all, my listening skills.
When I followed up our conversation by offering a hug, I felt the full release of her sorrow in our embrace. It was as if recognition of her heartbreak gave her permission to express her devastation and fear in a moment of sudden tragedy.
I expect the attending to leave the room after ripping off her gloves and gown. Instead she grabs a clean towel and gently wipes the patient’s forehead with the soft tenderness of a mother. I decide that this is the kind of doctor I want to be.
My third year had not been going as planned, and most days I was questioning my purpose in life, which I was once so sure of.
Contributing Writer
Florida State University College of Medicine
Salma is a medical student at Florida State University College of Medicine in Sarasota, FL, Class of 2025. In 2020, she graduated from Florida State University with a bachelor of science in interdisciplinary medical sciences. She enjoys reading, hiking, sketching, attending operas as well as writing poetry in her free time. After graduating medical school, Salma would like to pursue a career in internal medicine.
