“She reminds me of you”the pre-teen in psych unit 2C And as we formed a bond,I saw myself in this scared, lonely girlof whom I’d become quite fond It wasn’t long ago thatI was similarly distressed What a privilege to be hereand reflecton years of medication, healing, and progress

Pre-rounding, I would examine the tape on hischunky cheeks that held in place a NG and ETtube. The botulism made a swaddleunnecessary, but I still worried if he was coldin the PICU.At home, I remember him as I look at mydaughter’s untapped chunky cheeks, comfy inher swaddle.

“Hi Stinky”That’s how my 8-year-old patient addressedme every morningAdmitted for her third episode of mastoiditisin one yearShe lives in a shelter with her mother and tensiblingsShe is all alone in the hospital“Hi Stinky”I say backWe make slimeWe act goofyWe have fun

I ripped my pants, second patient of the dayFace bright redNow, a jacket tied around my waistMy favorite patient arrives next87 yo female, sweet as can beI’m laughing as I tell the storyShe grabs my handIn it, paper with 10 numbers writtenInvitation for coffee and sewing lessons

A college freshmanGums bleeding, skin peeling, bruised, so tiredTerrified, away from home, on her own for thefirst timeIn the ER, convinced she’s dying, sobbingConvinced she’s being punished for that sip ofalcohol or that first kissRelief in saying “Congrats, you have scurvy”Cut back on pizza, here’s an orange

At the summit of any peak, it is only natural tolook back upon the distance traveled. As wereflect on our time in the wards, ourappreciation grows for the moments, both bigand small, that shaped our experiences andperspectives. In the spirit of celebratingeveryday and monumental victories whilemourning big and little losses, we bring youstories reflecting on …

Continue reading “Reflections – Part IV”

“These fractures are concerning for childabuse.” Mom is frozen in shock. Dad’s mouthopens to provide defense. Baby looks to mewith curious eyes. Instinct beats out stoicism, Igrin back, eyebrows raised. Effervescent babygiggles erupt. We collectively exhale, blowinga puff of air back into the room before life ispermanently changed

Another inappropriate comment I planned toshrug offBut this time, you were in the room You appeared stunnedBut isn’t this just part of the job? You checked in with me“No, this is not something you just need toaccept” And now I won’t,You gave me the words

Region, Setting, Size Signals, connections, games, reputation Competitiveness? Interviews socials vibes Forceps, midwives, volume, population,wellness… And when I needed your help, you had myunwavering trust. Through fear, confidence.Through uncertainty, calm. Through teachers,protectors. When you saved the life of my life, I knewwhat factor I cared about most. Clarity through trust.

The patient glanced up, phone to ear, andsaid, “The doctor’s here. I have to go.” A simplemistake, yet profound. In that moment, Iwasn’t a student—I was trusted, seen ascapable. No doubts, no questions about age orgender, only belief. Her trust became myconfidence: I belonged here. I was enough.

I stay with herIt’s been weeksBut today’s the dayShe knows she’s dyingBut wants to hold on until family comesJust to say goodbyeA rare and rapid progressing diseaseTaking a woman too soonShe’s so scaredI know it’s not my jobBut my attending nodsI stay with her

Throughout these past four years of medicalschool, we learned to navigate the halls ofHSEB to the halls of the wards; wetranscended study habits and ways toefficiently pre-round. Step by step, we becomebetter and better. While the changes in ourschedule were predictable, the evolution ofour self-identity in medicine might not havebeen. We battled imposter syndrome and …

Continue reading “Evolution – Part III”

“No talk about prognosis since before roundone.”Now hospitalized with infection, round threehad not been won. A short conversation later, his goals clearlydefined.“No more cancer treatment,” he said as hedeclined. “Would round three have been endured” Ithought in my mind“if this conversation occurred in three monthsless time?”

2 years old, curly hair, chubby cheeks16 months of her life spent in this hospitalEvery morning, I watch her wiggle in her cribStill unable to sit up by herselfTubes, lines, drains strapping her downI worry her first-word murmurings will be herrecited one-linerThese 4 hospital walls her only home Parents nowhere to be foundA cry: nurses …

Continue reading “Hospital or Home”

The parent looms, angry and rude“I want to talk to an attending,” they bark.I stand there, steady,No authority, just a student with a chart. “I’ll pass it on,” I say,Voice even, eyes unwavering.They scoff, storm past.I exhale, And let it go

I It’s the first day of Benign Gyn Surgery,though Third Year is almost done for me.I’d finished Gen Surg and OB, tooI step into the OR, confident I know what todo.The patient’s prepped, legs in the air,carefully draped in blue and exposed withcare. II The Attending walks in, quickly gowningherself, tooShe asks me, “how far …

Continue reading “A Collection of Short Stories”

“But what can I do about this?” A common emotion in medical school, wemay often feel powerless to fight the injusticesand inadequacies in the healthcare system.However, along the way, we understand theimpact that we can have by questioning ourown responses and practices to thechallenges we face. Preparing us to takeaction and leave legacy behind, these …

Continue reading “Questioning – Part II”

She quietly asked for a piece of paperAnd wrote me a poemOf a waving flag outside her hospital windowAnd left the hospitalAfter three long weeksOnly to pass away three days laterEvery time I walk by a hospital windowAnd see the flag wavingI feel she’s waving hello too

“Humor is healthy coping” I remember in mymindAs the laugh of my attending comes frombehind He shows us a video of a person addicted tosniffing compressed airThe fate my young patient unfortunatelyshares His death almost certain and his parentsweepingMy mind wonders if this is coping worthkeeping

Born with a heart that couldn’t beat,I learned the path of congenital disease,frustrated by the anatomy,the textbooks cold and incomplete.In the NICU, that tiny lifefought for breath until the next daywhen she died a quiet death.The room fell still with the weight of loss.That tiny heart’s anatomy, I’ll never forget,carved in my mind forever, a …

Continue reading “Tiny Hearts”

With each patient, I got a glimpse into theirlives – the young girl who was a burn victimbut aspired to be a professional soccer player,the librarian with a broken foot who took upknitting while she recovered, the artist with afractured clavicle who settled down on a farmin rural Vermont.