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 …
“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 …
“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 …
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 …
“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 …
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 …
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.
These are the building blocks of ourjourney to becoming physicians.Centered around moments thatexpanded our knowledge andunderstanding of what it means tocare for patients; and recognizingtraditions and cultural norms, thesestories ask us to consider what isimportant and what is worth bringingwith us as we move ahead. Untitled Amanda Jiang Tiny Hearts Brighton Alvey Coping Worth Keeping …
The leeches are being applied to his flap repair as weenter.We were not able to save his tongueand the partial closure oozes blood from chin to navel.Yet, despite the swelling and the recently re-created lips,we discern a smileand he scrawls on the whiteboard:“Good morning! How are you today?”
Veteran with a bushy white beardDinosaur-feet slippers in his roomA raspy voice, always looking downHis bird, Angel, and unbelievable storiesDiuresisDischargeThe smell of smokePatient looking down, char behind earMischievous grinAn explosive situationENT to the ORMakeover of charred beard, brows and mustacheBack home to Angel
Driver dead on arrivalPassengerC collar in place, fingers tremblingSpeaking on the phoneMother sayingHe didn’t make itPassengerSobbing, squeezing my handSayingIt’s my faultIs he really deadPassenger17 years oldSpine and pelvis brokenWailing, screaming, shiveringI get a warm blanketSayingIt’s not your fault
“How are you today?”Standing. Fidgets with her feeding tube.Stares at nothing.“Um.”Another eternity. Another “um.”Finally: “I don’t need to be here.”But her chart tells another story.Court-ordered lorazepam. ECT.Nightmares inflicted.A success, I hear later.Does she resent her jailors?Does she remembertheir superhuman patience?Her 50-minute showers?
Count backwards from 99struggle to stay awakeRattle and shakeAgainst propofolExcuses for where the missiles fallCareful the slogans you useAnd the patients you chooseTo advocate for.Forget what you swore.Some harm is fineIf they’ve committed the crimeOf being born on the wrong side of the fence.
Our patient is a shy but secretly silly 6 year old girl with ahistory of remarkable PlayDough sculpting skills and alove of turtles, who presented shortly before joining swimteam for the first time. She is accompanied by parentswho are still grieving the loss of another child and rarelyleave her side.
A mother’s fourth babyMy first to help deliverIt’s a successI walk out elatedBeaming While sharing the joyWith a fellow classmateI’m interruptedBy a resident rushingTo be embracedBy another colleaguePushing words through tearsA baby did not make itJust next door to the mother of four
