Contributing Writer
INOVA Children's Hospital
Dr. Kenneth Lopez is a 1st-year Pediatric Resident at INOVA Children's Hospital in Fairfax who is experienced in multiple fields, including medicine, chemistry, biology, public health, sociology and mathematics. He has trained in multiple industry-standard lab techniques in immunology and microbiology, as well as clinical and epidemiological translational research within multiple disciplines. His diverse experiences, leadership skills and consistent compassionate and curious approach towards tasks, allow him to contribute dynamic ideas to organizations and produce high-quality work within multiple stages of project development and implementation.
I quickly realized, they allow the inner recesses of my soul to connect with my imagination, together spewing forth a wonderful concoction of syllables, metaphors and outright madness on dozens of sticky notes
he sits on the edge of the bed, forlorn – / eyes squeezed shut, back hunched over. / the veins snaking up his arms seem / translucent as he clenches the bed rail / in a death grip.
Touch, pinch. Move, shift. Tap, reflex.
The fault, however, doesn’t lie on me alone. / I’m but a product of the American diet and the capitalistic moan.
Because I could not stop for death, / He kindly asked I pause. / My arms were full of sterile wraps, / Scissors, tape, and gauze.
One step and then another; / the end is near! The end is nearly here! / And yet, it is not. Not yet near. / So, I carry on, though I am weary, / though my telomeres shorten or because my telomeres shorten,
Do you hear what I hear? / The humming of machines, / which can’t breathe, / but enable artificial ventilation for living beings.
What does it mean to “grieve appropriately?” / To silently cry / as to not break the fragility in the air.
My Grandmother never once told me how / she feels about dying.
“I’m sorry, ma’am. I’m just a med student. The rest of the team will be here shortly, they’ll explain everything to you.” We wait in silence.
His diseased lungs / stiff like dry clay / function like gills out of the water.
she is curled on her side like a child / eyes closed, back exposed.
Contributing Writer
University of Pennsylvania School of Medicine
Julia is a third year medical student at the Perelman School of Medicine at the University of Pennsylvania. She graduated from Georgetown University in 2020 with a major in Health Care Policy. She loves curating oddly specific Spotify playlists, going to concerts, and keeping up her NYT crossword puzzle streak. Julia hopes to pursue a career in surgery.
