Former Editor-in-Chief (2017-2018) and Former Medical Student Editor (2016)
University of Rochester School of Medicine and Dentistry
Ria is a Class of 2018 medical student. She graduated from the University of Rochester with a BS in neuroscience. Her interests include human behavior, social justice work, art, public health, and mnemonics.
The day before I was asked to give this speech, sometime mid-May, I was speaking with a first year student. At the time, I was two weeks shy of completing my third year of medical school — the year of school that you spend the most time in the hospital.
Yellow does not mean sunshine, nor lemons. / Definitely not daffodils, nor sharp, new Number 2’s. / Yellow means sick. Dirty. Dangerous.
The first thing she noticed, / Was her heart fluttering off and on, / The doctor saw her pale, / And iron pills were called upon.
new introduction / my name is… / and i’m a med student
you almost died today. / you almost brought yourself back to life / knowing another heart, too, / makes warmth between your breasts.
his eyes beyond his glasses / dart from me / rest on the corners
This poem is about the real-life suffering of the peoples of Africa.
“It’s time to wake up boss, please open your eyes. / There’s much work to be done and we’re ready to advise.” / Curiosity propelled me to confront my kooky staff. / One flipped through a dictionary, the other spoke on his behalf.
I approached you as a babbling child, needing to learn to speak, / my hope was to gain proficiency, to become fluent in this language. / You, my teacher lay before me covered in plastic, sterile and silent.
My thumb is on the white plunger: first stop / and now the pipette is ready to suck. / My hand is trembling, hovering over / the small plastic tube. I dip it down and in, / release the plunger, and draw it all inside.
You claim that my choice breaks your heart, / as if mine isn’t shattered and cracked. / You think I don’t know how beautiful he’d be, /or wonder how he’d walk, talk and act.
how quickly one turns on oneself inner demons circling overhead like opportunistic infections ready to invade predator and prey so vulnerable unprotected and unarmed. survival of the fittest I wrote this poem just a few weeks ago during a moment of overwhelming emotions that felt all too familiar. I’ve been writing poetry since middle school; it has always been a source of refuge for me, an outlet for my deepest fears and anxieties. Letting my …
Columnist
Michigan State University College of Human Medicine
Hello! I'm Valerie. I'm from the suburbs of Detroit and graduated from Michigan State University in 2009 with my BA in Psychology. I'm currently living in Grand Rapids Michigan with my fiance Adam, where I'm now in my second year of medical school at MSUCHM. I'm the aunt of two little kiddies that I love to death (Asher 3.5 and Shana 1.5) and the proud mama of a silly red-brown dog named Bo. Before starting medical school, I sang in an a cappella group for 3 years, traveled to India, volunteered at a Navajo hospital in New Mexico and many other uninteresting things I won't mention. I still sing as much as I can, love hot vinyasa yoga, hiking, camping and spending time with my family. If I'm not studying, you can probably find me on my couch in sweat pants eating frozen yogurt, watching Modern Family, The Mindy Project or The Goldberg's.
Therapeutic Misadventures
Therapeutic Misadventures catalogs the unanticipated effects of medical school and is meant to provide a sense of the emotional roller coaster that is medical education. It is a peek into what it really feels like to be a medical student and the perpetual challenges that come with that life. Spoiler alert: it's hard.
