Contributing Writer Emeritus
Loyola University Chicago Stritch School of Medicine
Lisa grew up in Houston, Texas, went to college in the lovely town of Denton, and moved to Chicago to begin medical school in 2010. She is planning on a career in family medicine. Her academic interests include integrative medicine, mindfulness, nutrition and women's health. Her personal interests include poetry, cooking, yoga, and seeking out all the ways these areas of life overlap.
Doing a sub-internship in the ICU is, well, intense. On the first day, I was completely overwhelmed by seeing so many sick patients, most of whom were sedated, ventilated, and on at least one pressor. In just a few weeks, this came to seem perfectly normal. However, what continued to stir me were the extreme emotions I saw patients and their families experiencing. I couldn’t help but feel those emotions myself. The most difficult day—thankfully …
Of all the sounds I expected to hear as I pushed open the thick door of Examination Room 3, the anguished sobs stopped me in my tracks. Wide-eyed and mouth agape, I stared. Agonizingly long seconds passed. “Hello, my name is Jimmy…” My mouth instinctively prattled the standard script I had practiced for the last two years. The woman looked up. Behind a mess of straw-colored hair, her red swollen eyes met mine. Dark streaks …
Sunday, 8 p.m. What started as valiant efforts of creating new recipes turned out to be embarrassing failures in judgment and common sense. Initially, I thought mixing tofu, some greens and pasta would turn out to be an Asian delicacy, maybe something that I could proudly share with friends and family. But, after adding one spice to another, topping sauce over sauce, I realized that it was over. It was time to call it an …
May – Bright-eyed and fresh from the books, I start my first rotation on internal medicine. I stay at the hospital until 11 p.m. to get a good history of my first patient. It is three pages long. I come in on weekends to practice writing notes. I find out that a patient is witness to child abuse and file a mandatory report. I pat myself on the back. My intern pats me on the …
“Is the pain sharp or dull?” I say to the teenaged translator next to me. Rolling her eyes, she quickly mutters something in Spanish to my distressed patient and then relays his response back in English. As she returns to texting on her cell phone, I make the final notes for this patient. Although I have reached the end of an extensive two-page history, I can’t help but feel completely unaccomplished. I’ve been told this …
Into the room I hear him come. Above me, his head appears. Then, with blue plastic hands and a dangling toy, he starts poking at me. He lays his hands on my head, then wipes the goop from my face. He shines a light in my eyes and then in my mouth. He prods my neck, then holds the dangling toy against my chest—first here, then there, and listens. He squishes my belly, flips me on …
As medical students and soon-to-be future physicians, we are taught to be hopeful when it comes to our patients. We smile; we comfort. We tell patients to put their trust in us because we believe we can cure them. We not only heal with our hands, but also with our words—reassuring when there is doubt, bearing a beacon of light when there is darkness. But what happens when that hope fails to illuminate, and our …
To the man with flowers that I met on my way out of the ICU: You came up to me and told me how grateful you were to all of the doctors in this place, for how well they treated you and your wife. You were holding bright red, maybe pink and yellow flowers with gold ribbon in clear wrap. You had grey hair and a kind smile. I said something like, “That’s so wonderful, …
I quickly became acquainted with the practice of orthopedics during my childhood, as various boyish and overly rambunctious pursuits left me with over a dozen broken bones. Each break was relatively innocuous, at most fixed with some pinning; however, I became instantly aware of the gravity of orthopedic injury when my father broke his back on New Year’s Eve 2002. I was 14, and he was driving me to a friend’s house when we were …
My hands were a bit sweaty; my heart was fluttering. As I was driving , questions and doubts surfaced in my mind. “What if my preceptor is mean?” “What if I put my stethoscope the wrong way?” I had shadowed physicians and worked with patients in hospitals, but this was different. This was the first day when I would become a part of the medical health professional team and would utilize the physical diagnosis and …
Here was a 45-year-old Type 1 diabetic who presented to the emergency department in a near coma with diabetic ketoacidosis. The diagnosis seemed clear as day, with some of the classic presenting signs: polyuria, polydipsia, hyperglycemia, high anion gap, low serum bicarbonate and presence of ketones in the urine. She was admitted and treated appropriately. Once she was stabilized, the human interaction and history-taking began, which proved to be far more convoluted. She thoroughly explained …
With my Fisher-Price stethoscope drooping to my knees, I opened up my first practice as a young boy, working out of my family’s kitchen, my hours fluctuating with my nap schedule. I was a dragon-seeker bent on improbable rescues, and as I would fiddle with my tools, I would imagine a future where patients returned to my office full of life and gratitude. What I did not count on as a five-year-old—or even as a …
Contributing Writer Emeritus
Albany Medical College
Hi all. My name is Karan Desai, and I am a Class of 2015 student at Albany Medical College. When I was born, my dad lifted me to the skies at our local community hospital (Simba style from Lion King), and proclaimed "This son will be a doctor." So, I am currently working towards fulfilling that prophecy. I love medicine, and the opportunities I get to help people in their most vulnerable moments. Outside of the hospital, I am also a health policy wonk, with positions within the AMA, NBME and AAMC. My other loves in life include the Philadelphia Eagles, the Northwestern Wildcats, goat cheese and tailgating.
