It does not grace your ears, / but you can hear it. / It does not touch your skin, / but you feel its pull. / It can’t be seen or read / but nonetheless, it guides you.
A hospital bed rolled in. It was Marvin. His last walk. On rounds we would say, “Twenty-two-year-old with gunshot wound to the head. Waiting for organ donation.”
I proposed a deal to my fellow student on our surgery rotation. “You can have all the other cases today if I get the laryngectomy.”
Superficial to deep, deep to superficial, / 90 degrees, in and out, / Not too deep, filled with doubt.
A terminology guide to help you become more comfortable and familiar with the operating room. Hopefully this enhances the practical side of your experience!
I had been invited to the general surgery journal club. In the sweltering heat of a southern summer, I dressed as crisply as possible because I had no idea what to expect. While I embraced this opportunity, I had only been invited because another medical student had fallen ill.
In the operating room, a man immediately recognized and greeted me / Even though I wore a surgical mask. / His welcoming expression was familiar to me, but I couldn’t pinpoint how I knew him.
I take a deep breath / to calm myself / before walking into the storm / of OR shadowing.
Blood flakes / fall onto the /blue, sterile field from / crimson-smeared green / light grips.
Perhaps the single most awkward conversation that a third-year medical student can have with an attending physician is the one that begins with the attending asking, “So, what medical specialty are you interested in going into?”
I know that being a third-year medical student is like being a transplanted kidney. One starts the day in one body. School is composed of lecture halls and written exams. However, the world has shifted by the end of the day, and shockingly, one’s old body is not present.
Draped the head and steadied the bed / For the life-saving aneurysm clipping, / I stop thinking of my former life.