In halls of sterile light and steel, Where pulses echo, hearts to heal, A quiet truth begins to rise— Care can’t be measured by device. For every chart, each test result, There lies a gap, a hidden fault, Where voices lost, unheard, remain— A silent burden wrapped in pain. From city streets to rural lanes, Health divides in unseen chains, A mother waits, her voice denied, As walls of care grow far and …
Septic shock. Liver failure. Kidney cancer.
This was my patient. I sat with her, held her hand, coaxed her to share pieces of her life story from underneath the covers.
A spoken word piece dedicated to the generous donors and their families of the Donor Body Program at the UCLA David Geffen School of Medicine.
Waiting in the snow for the 43, / Mind focused on the cold. / The bitter wind, the bus kneeling
Murmur. Murmur. A dull, swirling sound that seems a mile away reaches my ears as they roll me through the endless hallway.
My patient sleeps peacefully. / I wake him guiltily. / I don’t want my face to be the first he sees.
I am moving, yet I am going nowhere. I am going nowhere, yet I have come a long way. I do not count how many go by, but each spin demands that I keep moving. With every rotation, I take another step, another leap, one jump on this Earth. These cycles fly by, so much so that I can almost hear them as they whoosh over my head in an instant, making seconds go slow.
A bag full of dreams was all my mind possessed, / To leave my mark on the turbulent sands of time and be respected,
Finally, it’s been three months since // He and I were strangers with bad blood, / breathless in bed, / discussing the acts of giving and / receiving as indulgences, / mulling over our motivations and / the contraindications for / charity.
I start the day like most of us do: stimulating the needy vessels we call bodies with caffeine. As I open up my coffee jar to dispense ground Turkish coffee beans, I am met with a hint of loving bitterness. It carries a comforting brown sugar warmth that often stirs a sense of weakness given my inherent dependency on this substance but also commands secure boldness through notes of molasses and dark chocolate.
this weekend / I went to the sunflower patch / swinging arms with my mom and sister / starry eyed at the fields of bright gold yellow / nestled in the blue of the mountains around us.
Writers-in-Training Intern and Contributing Writer
Lake Erie College of Osteopathic Medicine
Nima is a medical student at Lake Erie College of Osteopathic Medicine in Bradenton, Florida, Class of 2024. In 2019, she graduated from Virginia Polytechnic Institute and State University with a Bachelor of Science in neuroscience and biology, with minors in creative writing and medicine and society. Nima enjoys gardening, cooking, and painting in her free time. After graduating medical school, Nima would like to pursue a career in family medicine with a focus on community health and lifestyle medicine.
