Featured, From the Wards, Poetry Thursdays
Leave a comment

The Psych Ward


This was my patient. I sat with her, held her hand, coaxed her to share pieces of her life story from underneath the covers.

I could not stop the voices in her head. The ones that told her to hit herself, to cut herself with a bottle cap, to swallow half of a styrofoam cup picked off piece by piece.

I could not stop the security guard holding her down. I could not stop the nurse storming out of room huffing, “I don’t have time for this,” returning with a needle full of haloperidol.

And I tried. I swear, I tried.

A few days later, she was discharged. She was giggling, spinning, twirling in the lobby excited to go home. She laughed as I started dancing with her for all of the patients and staff to see.

When I think about her, I have a hard time remembering that. I can only seem to remember her pinned helpless to the bed, and me helpless in the corner.

I should have tried harder.

Image credit: “Depression.” (CC BY-NC-ND 2.0) by Mary Lock- Goldilock Photography


Poetry Thursdays is an initiative that highlights poems by medical students. If you are interested in contributing or would like to learn more, please contact our editors.


Natalie David Natalie David (2 Posts)

Contributing Writer

Emory University School of Medicine


Natalie is a medical student at Emory University School of Medicine in Atlanta, Georgia class of 2026. In 2022, she graduated from Muhlenberg College as valedictorian with a Bachelor of Science in Biology and minor in Jewish studies. She enjoys reading fantasy novels and playing with her pet rabbits in her free time. After graduating medical school, Natalie would like to pursue a career in psychiatry.