Deeper than its captivating shape / lies a greater purpose.
So, one way or another / I keep craning my neck / Looking up.
I’ve thought about this for quite a while: / How much I owe to just a smile.
Good times have never passed as quickly as the three months, ten days and twelve hours
I have spent under Dr. ***’s service.
We all earn our way here / Paid in hours of studying / and minutes of fun lost.
“Eager and enthusiastic” / As I drag myself from bed. / “Positive energy” / Do you have an injury to your head?
I float in an ocean of sterile cerulean. / In this deep of drapery and gowns, / One could swim out and never see the shore.
When the love of my life started medical school, I knew she would need all of my support to get through it. I knew this because she told me.
5:37 a.m. in hospital scrubs / Just a few minutes with each patient.
And now here she was, in the family lounge at a hospital waiting to speak to her father’s neurologist. Her dad, Ricky, had collapsed at work — or so she had been told. This was the most she had heard of her father’s life since she moved out of the house.
Dr. Goodly saw patients on Thanksgiving every year. Wasn’t that the whole point of the holiday?
I know better. / I know nothing, and I am useless. / So don’t throw words at me insinuating that / I am knowledgeable.