Ripped Pants

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

Hospital or Home

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 …

Letter From the Editors

Dear Reader, Within these pages, you’ll find narratives layered with reflection, growth, and the raw reality of our time in medical school.