Medical school is a time of transitions - a time of new experiences, of growing, and of learning. Along the way, we make mistakes, we find meaning, we are inspired, and we are humbled. There are some moments of laughter and some of tears. We study, take exams, practice...
I sat in the exam room, holding my breath as the doctor deliberated before delivering a diagnosis. “Well,” he said, “I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you. Your MRI is normal.” He paused momentarily, managing to give me a sympathetic look. “You’re stressed out by medical school. It’s...
I woke up one January morning feeling excited to wear a costume like a kid on Halloween. It was my first shift at UCC, a community health clinic, with my first-ever patient as a medical student. I put on my brand-new black Figs from Christmas and then bundled up...
A Reflection on Anton Chekhov’s Story & Working with Standardized Patients
“Why are you wriggling?”“Your fingers are cold!”“Come, come…it won’t kill you. Don’t twist about.”
This moment from Anton Chekhov’s short story Anyuta has always stood out to me. As a Russian Language & Literature major, Chekhov has always been one...
Note: Names have been changed to respect others’ privacy.
The last text I ever sent to my friend Ellie was three days after she died. I told her I loved her, that I missed her. I thanked her for being my friend.
In the past year, our friendship had grown strong...
An Introduction:“A certain man… fell among thieves, who stripped him of his clothing, wounded him, and departed, leaving him half dead. Now by chance a certain priest came down that road. And when he saw him, he passed by on the other side. Likewise a Levite, when he arrived...
Part I: Subjective
“My daughter! My daughter called me today!”
“I’m so glad to hear that. It must be great to have such wonderful children.”
“Her love is shining through... she… she said she wants me to stay with her...”
* * *
Every presentation is supposed to tell a story, or so my...
I shift in my seat as I peer through the plexiglass. The only thing visible above the computer monitor is her hair slicked tight to her scalp, parted just left of center. Her darkly penciled eyebrows dance above her thick-rimmed purple glasses, waves above the ocean, as her acrylic...
What I know about hubris, I learned from tomatoes.
I love to garden. Since middle school, I have spent the warm seasons tending to various fruits and vegetables with my grandmother. In college, with months of summer vacation time and little to fill it with, I really started to pick...
All names changed for privacy.
Nearly-brand-new clogs thundered off the granite flooring as I crossed beneath the architectural microphone of the lobby of the Hospital of the University of Pennsylvania. I swore I’d heard my name being called.
Standing in just the right position, directly inferior to the apex of the...
While on my solid oncology rotation during clerkship year, I was assigned to work with a 23 year-old patient “John,” who was being admitted for a new diagnosis of a rare sarcoma. John told me that he had assumed his back pain which began a few months ago was...
Source: the Metropolitan Museum of Art. https://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/358129
It’s late on the eve of our MSK exam, and my classmates and I are quizzing each other on muscle groups. As we create mental images of the diagrams in the Netter Atlas, my eyes drift towards the illustrations of muscles and sinews...
“Hope” is the thing with feathers -
That perches in the soul -
And sings the tune without the words -
And never stops - at all
- Emily Dickinson
I scurried to keep up with the team as we weaved through the crowded hallway toward the elevators. We had just finished seeing...
“Find a work of art that you strongly dislike. What does your reaction to it tell you about yourself?”
When I first read this prompt, I thought, “Oh man, this is gonna be so easy! I dislike so many things.” Which is true. I like to think I have a...
My attending figure-skates an instrument through the feathery fascia of the anterior neck. Smooth surgical steel slides easily through wisps of transparent tissue the color of soap bubbles, like blades on ice. He finds purchase and with almost imperceptible movement opens the instrument; it is a wordless command for...
Note: certain details have been omitted to protect patient identity. Try using your imagination?
I made my way through the dimly-lit corridor and, followed closely by , I entered the patient’s room. Dr. greeted us both and motioned silently to . On the bed in front of me lay...
In praise of connections
I love Connections. Four words times four, meanings torn asunder, waiting for an enterprising mind to bake them into a semantic layer cake. The game’s boards are written by Wyna Liu, a seasoned New York Times crossword editor and lattice-inspired sculptural artist. Inspired by the “playfulness...
The moment I stood in the anatomy lab holding a human heart in my hands, I was captivated. Its weight, both physically and symbolically, drew me into the beauty of anatomy. I was at a summer premedical program for high school students at my local medical school, and this...
“It’s better to be lucky than good.”
When I asked my mom about the incident that left me bloody and scarred when I was one year old, she chose to conclude her story with these words. I don’t blame her. When a three-by-four-foot solid glass pane whacks you in the...
On Wednesday, February 15, I received “the most unlikely call of my life.” I was enjoying a morning stroll with my girlfriend, in the Capitol Hill area of Washington, DC (post-Maggie Rogers concert), when I received a call from an unknown 215 area-code number.
My mind raced through the different...
Grant Wahl went above and beyond the requirements of a sports journalist–leaving behind a legacy of advocacy and kindness. We all would be better off if this generation of physicians-in-training did the same.
The arrival of Sports Illustrated each week was its own mini holiday in the Nisbet household. The...
CONTENT WARNING: This piece contains descriptions of police violence, torture, racism.
How much air does it take to talk?How much air does it take to breathe?How much air does it take to live?
Kimberly Bain, a historian and social theorist of race, environmental and medical racism, and the Anthropocene writes:
I can’t...
"There were a lot of poor prognostic features from the start: unknown down time, no initial bystander CPR, initial rhythm was a PEA, 10 rounds of epi in the field."
I stood there during the debrief from the code, feet away from a warm, lifeless body, reckoning with the first...
In January of last year, the coagulation cascade was a source of trepidation. It was tedious to memorize the factors and co-factors, the intrinsic and extrinsic pathways, the PTs and PTTs. I drew the diagram countless times, my pencil connecting Roman numerals with lead-gray arrows, soft lines coalescing into...
“Trauma Alert. Thirty-three year old female, multiple gunshot wounds, vital signs stable. ETA five minutes.”
One of these announcements over the Presby emergency department PA system sets into motion a decisive and consistent protocol that I became familiar with during my clerkship rotation on trauma. I join an assembly of...
When I am years into clinical work, whether in the sleep-deprived drudges of residency or with my training long behind me,
When I have come face to face with the ugly sides of the medical-industrial bureaucracy and our greedy, racist, broken system,
When I have lost count of patients I have...
I scanned over the email’s contents—75 year old female using she/her pronouns, prefers visits in the early afternoon, small dog residing in the home—and jotted down the contact information listed for her daughter and the members of her care team. As a hospice volunteer, I was tasked with providing...
Nostalgia is a word that hails from the Greeks: nostos, meaning “return home,” and “algos,” meaning pain. In fact, the “-algia” in nostalgia likens it to a weird medical symptom much like neuralgia and myalgia (though, I’ve never included ‘patient suffers from nostalgia’ in my one-liner). But, if nostalgia...
Jalah tried to smile. Even though it was her back that was broken and slow to repair, somehow the damage seemed to have seeped into her face. The muscles felt tense, unable to work in concert to form an expression so second nature to her. “Yes, I’ll let them...
From the moment I first walked into the Jordan Medical Education Center that blisteringly hot Monday in August, I knew that I had signed up for a lifetime of learning. Sometimes, however, I find myself wondering if medical school is all that it’s cracked up to be.
Before we reached...